#i live and breathe colloquialisms
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most of my writing in the past three-ish years has been either rough drafts of fiction, my own journals, tumblr posts, or bits of other social media (eg organizational discord messages) and i've just had a very rude awakening that uhhhhhhh. formal academic writing brain gets rusty. i have forgotten whether it's gucci to use hypothetical "you"
#also completely forgotten how to MLA cite anything#again#have to relearn that shit twice a year#eng102 saga#adhd studyblr#breadtab writes#''colloquial writing not allowed'' i am slain#i live and breathe colloquialisms#it's not like i don't know five nice hoity toity synonyms for everything it's just#sometimes it lacks that#shit#i have to google the spelling#the fucking je ne sais quoi#you know???#sometimes i just want to say something snappy without having to uncontract the contractions and disambiguate and turn every thought into a#whole paragraph#not that i don't do that anyway but now i have to include quotes from the text#and work in the citations#it's good for me but i'm remembering why i hate *doing* academics
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Glass Onion did many, many things well. But a few of my favorites are:
Gave Helen the LITERAL POWER of the dumb white man's idea of a good idea to BLOW HIS SHIT UP.
Gave Whiskey a moment to deepen her character beyond "dumb men's right bimbo." Do I agree with the way she's doing things? No. Do I respect that she gets the chance to show she is aware of what she's doing? Yes.
Gave Benoit a live-in partner who straight people don't clock at all. Bitch. The butler is not calling Mister Blanc's famous friends to express worry over his bath time. That's the job of a husband (colloquial).
Benoit solving Gillian Flynn's mystery because it's CLEVER but needing help with the ACTUAL mystery because IT'S DUMB. And not because he's TOO SMART but because he's bad at DUMB PUZZLES.
Everyone only willing to throw Miles under the bus after Helen literally blew up any chance he had of saving their asses. Did they learn anything? Fuck no. It's a very clear lesson on understanding who to trust. As Helen puts it: "You'll lie for a lie, but you won't lie for the truth?" They're not lying for the truth at the end. They're lying for the lie that they're not very much like Miles.
I have seen some people noting the Mona Lisa burned like canvas, and I've seen some people noting the Mona Lisa burned like wood, and what's important to remember is that everything you need to know about Miles is that he's got the fucking audacity of the insulated fuckboy to think he's being clever having someone build an un-failesafe button so the Mona Lisa could be safe.
"It's so dumb, it's brilliant!" / "No, it's just dumb!"
"You'd lie for the lie, but you wouldn't lie for the truth?" -- Yeah, I mentioned it already, but my GOD. WHAT A POINT.
"Your name will forever be remembered in the same breath as the Mona Lisa." -- STAB HIM AGAIN.
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I love your young wizards books! There’s an article in the NYTs about “plumes of steam” floating up from the belly of Manhattan and thanks to YW, I know it’s just dragons. ❤️
Thank you!
...And yeah, dragons, absolutely. :) (...Well, these guys, anyway.)
Via the Errantry Concordance: the Fireworm (Lanthanodrax speleotraxis)1
(Also the occasionally occuring “sport” or hypotrophic subspecies, L. speleotraxis ignigastris.) The colloquial name is identical with that used for the marine bristleworm Hermodice carunculata, but the two species otherwise have nothing to do with one another.
The wizardly fireworm is a serious competitor for the title of “North American fauna species that has had its evolution most seriously interfered with by wizardry.”
The original species — just another small reptile, to start with, a member of the suborder Lacertilla and a distant relative of the geckos — was repeatedly mutated by the wizards caught up in the events surrounding the final fate of Afallonë. The most comprehensive change to their structure happened as a side effect of the great aphthonic intervention, the wizardry intended to save as much as possible of the unique Atlantean flora and fauna from the impending destruction of the First Continent. The rafting wizardry which was meant to simply transport a number of species to the newer continents went wrong during the final crisis in many important ways, and rampant wizardry leakage contaminated and disrupted the genetic structures of many of the creatures involved. The fireworm, already susceptible to such disruption because of previous genetic manipulation, suffered far more of it during the transport to the early versions of North America and Europe than any other creature involved in the ancient rafting project.
In Europe and Asia, the fireworm had fewer natural enemies, and grew and changed in ways which would otherwise have been impossible. Further mutations due to the accumulation of wizardly overlays in the more populated parts of Europe led to the rise of the offshoot species Draco, the “true dragons” which became famous in Europe’s medieval period for being killed by knights. (It should be made clear that most of these casualties were members of the species Draco ectenis, the lindworm or wingless dragon, an omnivore by habit and cave-dweller by preference. Even the most heavily armored knights had a terrible batting average against Draco draco europaeis, the cliff-dwelling, strictly carnivorous winged dragon, which regarded knights merely as a somewhat-seasonal comestible delicacy with a crunchy outside and a yummy inside.)
But in North America, where many “rafted” species with wizardly components survived for the next few millennia after the fall of Atlantis, the fireworm kept for some time its original Atlantean form — that of a small carnivorous reptile with a tendency to burp flammable gas as a defense mechanism when frightened or upset. (No carbon-based dragon, true or false, breathes fire: but even the smallest ones can ignite it on exhalation in one of a number of ways, usually involving chemical or enzymatic reactions.)
However, unfortunately for the fireworm, its main Atlantean natural enemy the “king-weasel” (Macrogulo gulo, long extinct and survived only by its far less assertive “family” relative Gulo gulo, the wolverine) succeeded in establishing itself in North America as it had not been able to do in Europe because of the presence of the great crested cockatrice (Cerastus baseliensis) or northern cockatrice (Cerastus scotodasos). The king-weasel nearly succeeded in exterminating the fireworm. Only the smallest members of the family survived by changing their normal above-ground habitats for an underground lifestyle into which the king-weasels would not follow them.
After some millennia spent living and rebuilding their gene pools in the natural caves of the East, the fireworms moved into the manufactured caves and underground spaces of the great East Coast and Midwest cities. (No fireworm species live west of the Rockies. Possibly due to uncomfortable genetic memories secondary to the fall of Afallonë, they will not stay in earthquake-active zones.) Regardless of what ConEd tells you, fireworms are the proximate cause of the steam New Yorkers see coming up from under the streets in all weathers — the more steam, the larger the fireworm.
They are some of the most exothermic of all Earth-based life forms, when well-fed, and the very biggest ones can prosper down in the tunnels in even the coldest weather. When exposed to further wizardry leakage, as sometimes happens in the neighborhood of worldgate complexes, the oldest and most experienced fireworms can over time acquire some telepathic and empathic abilities.2 This enables them to force the smaller fireworms, and even members of some other species, to do their will — shepherding food into their ambit, or otherwise serving their needs. For this reason, smart wizards stay out of places where the older and larger fireworms can be found, unless the needs of errantry drive them there.
Fireworms are also the ultimate source of all the stories about “alligators in the sewers.” There is a certain ironic humor to this, as wizards know there wouldn’t be nearly so many stories if the things in the sewers were only alligators.
(See also: Eldest, the: Twelve, Song of the.) (SYWTBAW)
1The taxonomy of the western European fireworm is somewhat confused. The Bestiarium Ignotum classified the fireworm as Lanthanotrops micrognotus, but this did not take into account the internal differences between the Lanthanotrops and Lanthanodrax families — possibly understandable, since Linnaeus was unable to find a dead specimen to dissect, and trapping a live one was at that point out of the question. The Acta Parabiologica‘s revised classification group places the fireworm among the various members of family Hemerothalcus, with the “true dragons” of the Draco species.
2 Because of the already-fragile state of their DNA, such exposure over prolonged periods can also result in memory loss and other neurological problems, as seems to have been the case with the Eldest in SYWTBAW.
#Young Wizards meta#fireworms#Lanthanodrax speleotraxis#Young Wizards#So You Want To be A Wizard#unnatural history
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Linguistic Divide
Zhongli sometimes has a bit of trouble understanding your way of speech.
★彡basically when a modern-day person like you now lives in teyvat, colloquialisms are bound to confound. poor zhongli. (he still loves you)
“Gosh, Zhongli,” you breathe, eyeing your husband as he gets ready for the day, “you really are the drippiest man in all of Teyvat.”
At this, Zhongli wipes his upper lip, confused. “My nose doesn’t appear to be dripping, darling.”
You giggle, shaking your head and adjusting his tie. “Ah, you. You’re so adorable.”
“I should be saying that about you,” he responds with a smile, taking one of your hands and kissing it tenderly. “Will you be heading out soon for your commissions?”
“Mm, not quite, I got a rather interesting letter from one of my clients at the Guild. He decided my assistance yesterday wasn’t up to par, even though it’s thanks to me that he got out of it alive, and now I’m living rent-free in his head.”
It never occurred to Zhongli that people had to pay rent to be able to harbor thoughts about others, but he supposed there were still many things about humanity he had yet to discover. “I see. And what does his letter say, my love?”
“Nothing but him being salty as hell. It’s literally all salt.”
“Oh, what an unagreeable man,” Zhongli mutters with a frown, scorning this person for putting plain salt in an envelope.
Shrugging, you add with a snort, “It’s fine, his response is sending me.”
“Oh!” Zhongli, instead of laughing along with you, merely softens his gaze sadly. “Sending you where, my love?”
“Sorry?” You tilt your head, frowning.
Pulling you closer, your poor unsuspecting husband hugs you tightly. “Why did you not inform me of this earlier? Where is this man sending you? Not too far, I hope? You will be back soon, yes? And how much is he paying?”
Giggling, you shake your head. “Oh, my silly man. I meant that his response was very entertaining!”
Zhongli’s lips part in realisation. “Ah...yes, another one of your colloquialisms, I take it?”
“Yes sir.” You kiss him and sit down. “Anyway, I’ll have to come up with a suitable clapback,” you say, starting to pen a response. Your poor husband stands around and watches, wondering how exactly applause is meant to serve as a good rebuttal. But if that man had put salt in the letter, then anything was possible, he thinks. He watches as you scribble a response letter to the client, standing up when it’s finished. “I’ll send this out later today. Chances are I could also run into him at the Guild, and shit could hit the fan.”
“I pray that no feces make contact with anything, darling,” Zhongli offers helpfully, as he gathers his work-things and smoothens his outfit. “As for me, I must be off now - do take care, my dear, and if you run into any trouble, come see me at once.” He stands near the door and holds his arms out to you.
You hug your husband tight, and kiss him on the cheek. “Bye bye, I love you! By the time you get back, I’ll probably have lots of tea to spill!”
“Oh dear!” After Zhongli kisses you back and heads out to work, he makes a mental reminder to buy a new mop to clean up all the soon-to-be spilled tea with.
#sini writes#zhongli#genshin impact#zhongli x reader#genshin#genshin x reader#zhongli x you#fluff#drabble
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Lore: Common Phrases & Words
Accuracy Disclaimer & The Other Stuff
[tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]
Abeir-Toril
Why it's called the "Forgotten" Realms
History | Time & Festivals | Lexicon [1] [2]| Languages | Living in Faerûn [1] [?] | Notable Organisations | Magic | Baldurs Gate | Waterdeep | The Underdark | Geography and Human Cultures
--- WIP
Translating some earth phrases and words into their Faerûnian equivalents, plus some words specific to Faerûn; Here's how make friends and insult people in Faerûn. Also they have coffee, guitars and health insurance.
Also included a handful of Waterdhavian phrases and words.
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Phrases and curses:
"Before all the gods..." - "I swear to god..."
"Well met" - default greeting; hello
"Well again" - greeting between acquaintances, business partners and friends.
"Well enough" - agreement; "ok", "that's fine with me"
“Never undress in a room with a window, a Harper may be near!” – "Be careful what you say, you don't know who's listening.
an interesting warning courtesy of Waterdhavian noble matrons.
"Haularake!" - The polite way to say "gods fucking damn it!" while in front of small children.
"Hrast!" - Damn it!
"Hrasted [thing]!" - Damned [thing]!
"[Deity]'s Blood" - eg "Cyric's Blood" Religious oath, rather like jesus christ. Contracted version of Blood of [deity]
I swear that I have seen "Umberlee's Teats" and "Cyric's Balls" said somewhere...
"Being an ox-haunch" - "Being an asshole"
"a breath" - a moment, a second; "wait a breath"
"A breath or two" - A moment/second; eg, "give me a breath or two to finish this."
"A goodly breath or three" - a minute. (Waiting for a notable amount of time, maybe ten minutes, but not that long.)
-- The dwarven variant is "but a little while"
-- Halflings call it a "long song"
"Counting like a halfling" - Being contrary just to be difficult
Most of the Realms counts on their fingers starting with the thumb, halflings do it the other way around.
"Naeth!", "Naed!" - Shit!
"Sabruin" - Fuck you, Fuck off.
"Lay down [good] coin" - "pay [a lot] for something"
“Resourceful as a bard”
"Life's better when you're not a frog." - "Avoid wizards."
“Sweet water and light laughter until next we meet” - A goodbye said between nobles. Technically an elven farewell, but human nobility decided it made them look cultured or something.
"Gone to Daggerford" - Waterdhavian phrase meaning to hide from the law by lying low outside the city
"Black as a black opal" - used to describe people who seem evil, but aren't really. (Especially if they'd dislike you saying so)
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Faerûnian Lexicon:
Scorchkettle - a Karen.
Dining-house - a Restaurant
Glim - Eye-catching, beautiful, flashy
Kaeth - Coffee
~Fireswallow - a colloquial term for Coffee.
Yarting - acoustic guitar
Short scroll - Newspaper
Nandra - mediocre, meh.
Dael, daelin - a year, years
Saer - a term to address nobility when you don't know the proper title, or when they're children
Lackwit - Idiot
Roundskull - a prejudiced idiot who doesn't use their brain;
"often applied to local folk who sit drinking in their tavern displaying prejudices and repeating the words of their parents and grandparents, rather than making their own judgements about changing conditions around them, and new concepts, items, and customs."
Handfast - an engagement (to be married)
Handfasted - engaged
Goldnose, Goldnosed - Haughty. aka. "Has a stick up their ass."
Highnose - as above
Lackcoin - a derogatory term for those living in poverty.
Darkmorning - the early morning hours between midnight and sunrise
Highsun - Midday
the Eavestrough - the Gutter
a Bell - an Hour
a Candle - an Hour
Festhall - a type of establishment found in the Realms. A kind of fusion between an inn, laundromat, spa, night club, brothel and casino.
I'll explain these in another post. Suffice to day that BG3 is the most accurate portrayal of how damn horny this setting is that I've seen in a CRPG so far.
Blesséd - an elven loanword referring to immediate family.
Harhand - a labourer (minimum wage employee)
Healthshield - Health insurance, also known as a "healing-bond"
Fire-bond - Fire insurance
Rivvim - horny
Dawnfry - colloquial term for breakfast
A common breakfast, especially for travellers at camp, is to quickly fry the leftovers from last night's meal.
Highbite - colloquial term for lunch
Long variant is "Highsunfest."
Latebite, Evenfest - Dinner
Abbreviation of "Eveningfeast."
the Art - Magic
Lackspell - a weak, or novice wizard
Aloft - Upstairs; "she went aloft/upstairs."
High-coin - Expensive; or referring to a high paying job
Low-coin - Cheap; or paying minimum wage
Finework - intricate and valuable metalwork. Silverware and jewellery, for example
Finesmith - a smith who works with precious metals.
Hiresword - Mercenary
Stareyed - naïve
Shraehouse - a type of very small tavern
Fastmud - Cement
a Swords out - a brawl or violent argument
a Smur - a light, misty rain
Beast-men - common word for ogres
Big Folk - Term used by gnomes and halflings to refer to the other races
Longears - term for an elf
Little man - insult aimed at dwarves
a Blackstick - something like a grease pencil. A writing utility made of a stick of thorden (juniper) wood that can be sharpened on one end, which is then slightly charred and used to write with.
a Blandreth - a three legged cooking pot
a Boot - a Traveller
Dadacky - Rotten, Decayed
Heartstop - a Heart attack
Coin - Money; "I've got no coin until I get paid next week."
a Broad Cry - Headline of a newspaper/broadsheet
Holy hand - a temple guard
Tenday - equivalent of a week (10 days instead of 7)
Other, less commonly used terms include; an "eve," "hyrar", "ride" or a "domen".
the Elf day - the Weekend.
The tenth day of a tenday, sometimes a day of rest.
House storming - a burglary; home invasion
the Realms Below - the Underdark
a Black Robe - a magistrate [Waterdhavian dialect]
a Sun - a platinum coin [Waterdhavian]
a Dragon - a gold coin [Waterdhavian]
a Shard - a silver coin [Waterdhavian]
a Nib - a copper coin [Waterdhavian]
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DAY 5763
Jalsa, Mumbai Nov 27, 2023 Mon 11:14 PM
peace tranquility calm and the strength of pious divinity ..
🚩
Babuji .. his birth, his presence , his guidance his learnings and his spirit .. each moment vivid and alive ..
I stand in front of his portrait where he breathed his last .. a small prayer for his strength and presence for all .. that is it .. he would never have wanted any more .. if you did it, he would not object, but left to himself would be his wont ..
my colleague from KBC sends his wishes :
बाबूजी की जन्मतिथि पर सादर नमन 🙏🏽
उनकी एक रचना …
“ अब समाप्त हो गया मेरा काम,
करना है बस आराम ही आराम,
अब न खुरपी न हँसिया,
न पुरवट न लढ़िया,
न रखरखाव, न हर न हेंगा,
मेरी मिट्टी में जो कुछ निहित था,
उसे मैंने जोत बो,
अश्रु स्वेद रक्त से सींच, निकाला,
काटा,
खलिहान का खलिहान पाटा,
अब मौत क्या ले जाएगी मेरी मिट्टी से,
ठेंगा … । “
सचमुच मौत ठेंगा ही ले जा पाई, वो आज भी जीवित हैं और हमेशा रहेंगे, अपनी अमर कृतियों में …
नमन
🙏🏽💐🙏🏽
the translation shall ruin the thought and shall never be able to express the depth of what he wrote .. yes the depth .. that was what all his works portrayed and spelt out ..
BUT .. let me attempt an attempt ..
my work has ended , now I have to just take rest ; I need no utensils that are used for plowing the earth the fields .. whatever had been contained in this earth, I did sow and nurture and plough .. with my blood sweat and tears .. field upon fields did I farm and cut the growth from the earth during the harvesting ...
what shall death take away from this earth of mine .. ठेंगा !!!
ठेंगा is a word that defies explanation in any form or language .. it is usually done with sound and act .. an act of pushing out your thumb while you say the word ..
in the English language the thumb is a symbol of being right or correct ..
in Hindi it is the exact opposite .. it's a colloquial mode , for to put it mildly and crudely , and do pardon the tongue .. its you
get f..all !!!
so yes , really what will death take away from his earth .. ठेंगा, thénga .. nothing , f..all .. for his work shall live ever even when he has left this World ..or rather left this Earth ..
Amitabh Bachchan
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We’d all like the rest of your butterfly facts, please.
I have SO MANY; I'm not even sure how to share them all.
Butterflies and moths are not taxonomic or cladistic groups; they're colloquial terms to refer to lepidoptera (the taxonomic order butterflies and moths belong to) that have different characteristics and behaviors. That said:
Moths tend to be nocturnal
Moths tend to have fuzzy bodies, butterflies are sleek
Moths tend to have fuzzy antennae, butterflies just have straight plain ones
The additional fuzz on months allows them to sense what's around them, which is helpful because they're not seeing as much because they're nocturnal
Moths tend to build chrysalises with silk but also leaves and mud, etc. These are known as cocoons. Butterflies only use silk and don't have cocoons (either are known as chrysalis)
The Atlas Moth has the biggest wingspan of any lepidoptera
The Atlas Moth usually emerges from its cocoon without a mouth. It can only breed and die
The Atlas Moth caterpillar lives for months. It's generally in the cocoon for months! But it only lives as an adult moth for a few days (because it can't even eat!)
Inside their chrysalises, caterpillars don't just grow wings and longer legs. They liquify completely and reform.
Caterpillars have six legs called "true legs" that mirror the six legs butterflies have. Then they have additional nubs farther down their bodies that help them move around.
Butterflies taste with their feet. If they land on you, they're tasting you!
Butterflies can only eat liquid. They primarily eat nectar and juice from fruit. Rotten fruit is easier for them because rotten fruit is juicy.
The butterfly mouth is called a proboscis. It curls up when not in use and uncurls when the butterfly eats. It's like a straw.
The word "proboscis" can sometimes refer (as a joke!) to nose, but butterflies can't smell with their proboscis. They smell with their antennae!
Like many insects, butterflies have faceted eyes. But unlike the movies, they probably don't see the same image over and over, because their vision isn't refined enough for that. What faceted eyes allow them to see are big patches of color, which is useful considering they eat fruit and flowers. If you want a butterfly to land on you, wear something colorful.
Butterflies don't have lungs. Like most insects, they breathe through holes in their bodies called spiracles.
Incidentally, this is why insects are so small. If they were giant, these holes would have to be bigger or there would have to be many more of them, and that would mean their exoskeleton was not stable!
Oh, yeah, butterflies do not have bones. Like all insects, they have an exoskeleton.
Butterflies do not have blood. Like all insects, they had a fluid that moves most nutrients through their bodies. It's called hemalymph. It carries hormones, nutrients, and waste. It's blue!
Male butterflies tend to be smaller and more colorful than female butterflies. This is the same style of sexual dimorphism present in most insects. Also in birds!
Male monarch butterflies have distinctive dark spots on the lower wings that female monarch butterflies don't have. The spots are scent glands that help them attract mates.
Most butterflies migrate. Like birds.
Monarch butterflies in North America east of the Rocky Mountains have one of the most impressive migration patterns of any animal. They may travel up to 3,000 miles from Canada to Mexico, but what is most spectacular about it is that almost all of them end up in just a few spots relatively close together on some mountain peaks in Central Mexico. The monarchs are so dense that you can't see the trees.
Butterflies are great for studying evolutionary adaptations in coloration and appearance because they are so striking. Camouflage is the adaptation present when an animal blends in with its surroundings. Mimicry is the adaptation that makes an animal look like a different animal.
The owl butterfly is a great example of mimicry because it has two big owl eyes on its wings. The Atlas moth wing tips look like snake heads.
"Batesian mimicry" is named after Henry Walter Bates, who studied mimicry in butterflies. Batesian mimicry means that one species who is harmless looks like another species that is not harmless. Mullerian mimicry is when several species that are harmful all look like each other, so the warning to predators is stronger. Butterflies have great examples of both types of mimicry.
Monarch butterflies and viceroy butterflies were once thought to exhibit Batesian mimicry, because it was thought that vicroys weren't toxic, but it turns out both butterflies are poisonous and so the species have evolved to mimic each other in an example of Mullerian mimicry.
Monarch butterflies are poisonous because the milkweed caterpillars eat is poisonous
The best way to attract butterflies is to grow native plants.
#butterflies#i actually have lots more facts about how butterfly houses work#i also have a lot of random science knowledge that is accessible and interesting to the public!!!!#ask about these subjects#whales in general#whale evolution#naked mole rats#the physics of sound#microorganisms#tide pools#stars#nutrition#ocean acidification#planets#liquid nitrogen#bubbles#blowing things up#snakes#volcanoes#dinosaurs#climate change#long post
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Genya Shinazugawa: The Main Character Who Wasn't
Okay, so the context isn't crazy necessary, but this post basically sums up some of my past thoughts on demon slayer's issues. I'd like to expand on a point I make at the very end there, about adding Genya to the main character squad from the start and why it's such a mindblowingly genius writing choice that the fact that Demon Slayer fails to do so is the single greatest criticism I can levy against it.
Allow me to explain.
You see, Genya Shinazugawa is the single most competently written and interesting character in the entire series. He is introduced even earlier in the story than Zenitsu or Inosuke, and the fact that he is not made part of the central squad from the get go only becomes more of a sin against good writing the more screentime he gets. See, unlike the other handful of Actually Pretty Damn Good characters Demon Slayer has, Genya isn't just a good character in a vacuum - he's very specifically the perfect narrative foil to Tanjiro.
To explain why this is so absolutely critical, we have to explain a bit about Tanjiro, and the context in which a character like him does and does not work. Tanjiro Kamado, as a protagonist. Is a very simple character. He has a very straightforward, cliche backstory. He has a pretty simple personality. Now, that's not necesarily a bad thing! but the way that you make a character like Tanjiro interesting is via contrast. Contrast his innate kindness and positivity with the harsh world he exists in, and with his own even harsher past. Contrast his personality with the personalities and pasts of those around him. Contrast his personality and outlook with those who have lived similar stories - and Tanjiro's story is, outside of a few key details, common in the corps indeed. Contrast Tanjiro, who should be the next in a long line of slayers who join up to avenge their families, with the status quo and the paradigm shift he and Nezuko represent to it. Making a character like Tanjiro interesting relies on having him exist as a point of comparison to the people around him. He's not amazingly interesting in a vaccum, but he can be interesting if put in the right groups and situations. And the story does, to an extent, understand this. It does not, however, understand that the best way to do this is to make Genya a main character.
See, remember what I said about Tanjiro's backstory being common within the corps, give or take a few details? Yeah, okay, so Genya is another case of that, with his backstory differing from Tanjiro's in just the right places to spark some amazing contrast between the two. Not to mention, the end result of that backstory is that Genya's brother becomes a Hashira, which not only adds depth to his motives and personality, but gives him an inbuilt connection to the organization that's central to the story, one that must inevitably be addressed during the course of the main plot. This is what we call narrative efficiency, or colloquially, actually good writing. Not so mention the fact that Genya’s backstory is, in fact, extemely compelling and serves to inform his personality and motives in a believable way.
It's not just on a backstory level that Genya works as a foil to Tanjiro - He contrasts Tanjiro on a personality level, fitting right in as a Lancer archetype. While both are innately selfless, brave, and heroic, Tanjiro is outwardly kind and friendly, wheras Genya is bitter and angry. He's not a bad person, or even a worse person, as when it comes down to it he's just as much of a hero as Tanjiro, but he's a lot more abrasive, hardened by his hard life in a way that Tanjiro seemingly wasn't despite similar circumstances.
Things get even better when you compare them on a fighting style level. See, Tanjiro uses Hinokami Kagura, which was derived from the original breathing style of the first demon slayer. His fighting style is the origin, the secret hidden power of the past, passed down via tradition. In a way, his is the most traditional demon slayer fighting style. Meanwhile, Genya can't use breathing styles at all - and oh boy does that help his inferiority complex when his brother is a damn Hashira - which forces him to use a workaround. Genya abandons all standard slayer tactics, and uses the iconic demon slaying weapon of the modern age - a motherfucking sawed off shotgun. He then proceedes to steal his enemies own powers by eating them, which is both hardcore as hell, and is the exact sort of thing you would expect to see out of a shounen party of unconventional misfits. The most traditional demon slayer, made to contrast with the most unconventional. Both uniquely skilled in ways no other slayers are.
So not only is Genya just…a phenomenally well conceived and awesome character overall, he also is the perfect foil to Tanjiro, who we’ve already established, is a character who relies on narrative foils to be interesting.
So why is this man a side character? Why is your foil-reliant main character paired up with the three worst-written characters in the entire story? Just…why, in general?
TL;DR: Genya Shinazugawa deserves better. He deserves main character status.
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Russian necrovocabulary
@chupachai for you personally, dear 🖤
умерший (m, single), умершая (f, single) – deceased, dead
покойный, покойная – deceased [derived from покой (peace)]
покойник, покойница – deceased [derived from покой (peace)]
усопший, усопшая – deceased [derived from church-old Russian «to fall asleep»]
почивший, почившая – deceased [pretty outdated, derived from old Russian «to fall asleep»]
преставившийся, преставившаяся – deceased [church-old Russian, from an old Russian verb with meaning “to transit, to transfer”]
погибший, погибшая – perished, a person who died an unnatural violent death
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мертвый, мертвая – dead
мертвец – dead
труп - corpse
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умереть – to die
погибнуть – to die an unnatural violent death, to perish [this is important; we will not say умерший, умереть about a person who was stabbed with a knife or hit by a car or died in an accident or killed in the war; we will not say погибший, погибнуть about a person who died of old age or illness]
скончаться – to pass away
уйти из жизни – to pass away
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These verbs are often used in relation to animals, in relation to people it sounds very rude or vernacular
околеть – to die
издохнуть – to die
сдохнуть, подохнуть – to die
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Some expressions with the meaning «to die», many of them are pretty sublime:
почить – to die [perfect form of the obsolete verb "почить", to fall asleep]
уснуть вечным сном, уснуть навеки - to sleep an eternal sleep, to fall asleep forever
приказать долго жить – to order to live long
отправиться к праотцам - to go to the forefathers
отдать Богу душу - to give God a soul
отправиться на тот свет - to go to that world
отойти от мира сего - to depart from this world
отойти в лучший мир - to depart to a better world
отойти в мир иной - to depart to another world
испустить последний вздох - to breathe a last breath
испустить дух - to give up the spirit
сойти в гроб - to descend into the coffin
сойти в могилу - to descend into the tomb
лечь в сырую землю - to lie down in the damp earth
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почить в бозе - to rest in god [an outdated ecclesiastical expression, can be used by very religious people or in an ironic, mocking way]
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Colloquial, slightly rude expressions:
протянуть ноги – to stretch legs [pretty vernacular]
сыграть в ящик – to play box
надеть деревянный тулуп - put on a wooden sheepskin coat
надеть деревянный макинтош - put on a wooden mackintosh
отдать концы - give up the ends
дать дуба – to give oak
помереть - to die
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Colloquial, vulgar or criminal expressions:
отбросить копыта – to drop the hooves
отбросить коньки – to drop the skates
склеить ласты - glue the fins [criminal]
окочуриться - I believe that this verb has the meaning of "harden", a reference to rigor mortis
скопытиться - to be knocked off the hooves
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стать героем – to become a hero ))))) [internet slang]
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Because of your blog, I’ve read over 500 Sterek fics since April 😂 I have a problem. But! Do you have any super long fics that are your go-to favorites?
That is awesome!!! ❤️ I don't have the attention span for really long fics so there is only one CRAZY long fic here, the rest are around 100K.
This was meant to be a shorter list but they are ALL so amazing!!
Actions Speak Louder than Words by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) | 434.6K | Explicit
“I apologize.” The cop finally looked back up at his face, seeming thrilled. “It’s just—it’s been so long. And we finally have you.”
That was a bad word. Not found.
Have.
Stiles wrenched his hand free and took a step back, but before he could even think up a gameplan, he felt a prick in his neck and jerked away, reaching up to slap one hand against it and twisting in the same moment.
One of the others had come up behind him while he hadn’t been paying attention, and his vision began to swim even as his eyes caught sight of the half-empty syringe the guy was holding.
a mountain to climb by grimm | 126.4K | Explicit | wayback
“Don’t do it,” he mutters. “Don’t do it, please, don’t do it.”
But there it is, a soft pink line appearing right next to the control. Stiles’ legs give out from under him; he sinks to the bathroom floor, hands shaking, his entire body shaking. It’s hard to breathe, his vision blurring around the edges. There’s a knock on the door behind him and then it opens and Scott sits down next to him.
“I’m fucked,” Stiles gasps, tears prickling at his eyes. “I’m fucked!”
Don’t Savage The Messenger by exclamation | 172.3K | Explicit
There is an uneasy truce between the werewolves in the woods and the humans who live in Beacon Hills, protected by a magical boundary that gives warning any time a werewolf crosses it. Then the sheriff is taken by the werewolves and his son offers himself in exchange.
Stiles promises to serve the werewolf pack, not knowing what horrible use they might have for him. But it turns out his most useful skill is the ability to cross the boundary line between humans and werewolves. Life with the werewolves is nothing like he feared and the werewolves themselves are nothing like the hunters’ stories would have him believe.
The Circus at the End of the World by mikkimouse | 91K | Explicit
Three hundred years ago, the world ended not with a bang or a whimper, but with magic.
Since then, magic has been outlawed, and the world has clawed its way back to some kind of stability, with people and shifters alike divided between living within the walled safety of the Havens, or the small, less protected outposts dotting the frontier.
Derek Hale and his sisters, Laura and Cora, are the proprietors of Hale’s Circus of Magic, Monsters, and Mystical Wonders, known colloquially as the Circus at the End of the World. They and their ragtag pack ride the rails between the outposts and the Havens, performing for those who can pay (and some who can’t). Their circus is a small haven in and of itself, a place of safety for those who have nowhere else to go.
It’s a quiet life…until Stiles Stilinski joins the crew.
Where the Real Beasts Are by kaistrex (weishen) | 109K | Explicit
Crown Prince Stiles is gifted a direwolf on his eighteenth birthday by King Gerard I of Venatia. The only instruction? Never remove the collar.
Stiles never has been one to do as he’s told.
Enemy Lines by qhuinn (tekla) | 149.1K | Explicit
This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.
Years later when Derek returns to Beacon Hills, he does it as Alpha of a military pack on a mission to capture those responsible for the region’s resistance. With his main objective, Sheriff Stilinski, out of sight, he settles for the next best thing: his son, Stiles.
Neither of them suspects they’ll need to trust each other if they want to make it out this alive.
Divided We Stand by KouriArashi | 156.7K | Mature
Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn’t expect and aren’t sure they approve of….
Pack Wars by miss_aphelion | 158.6K | Mature
Scott liked to call it the Great Pack Divide of 2012.
Derek liked to call Scott an idiot.
(Or the one where Derek kidnaps Stiles to teach Scott a lesson, and ends up learning a few things himself)
between the click of the light and the start of the dream by thepsychicclam | 105.1K | Explicit
It’s Stiles’ senior year, and he’s trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he’s being haunted by a hag. Great.
The Hollow Moon by thepsychicclam | 180K | Explicit
It’s the summer after Stiles’ first year of college, and he’s working a crappy job and dealing with nightmares and anxiety - but he’s okay, he swears. He makes it through most days without too much trouble. Then, a certain werewolf comes back into town. Which Stiles doesn’t care about, nope, not at all.
After two and a half years, Derek returns to Beacon Hills with his small Pack. Though he tried to move on, something just kept drawing him back to Beacon Hills, he’s just not sure what. Now, he figures he can start building something like a life - but he keeps getting distracted by Stiles Stilinski of all people.
Fire, Fury, and Flame by IAmAVeronica | 124.5K | Explicit
Stiles Stilinski was never going to be the omega who got knocked up right after high school, and then he’s accidentally artificially inseminated with a stranger’s sperm.Awesome.And the father of Stiles’s baby just so happens to be Derek Hale. Half-feral, quite possibly a murderer, and pursued by a gleefully sadistic band of hunters who are only too eager to use Stiles and his baby to hit Derek right where it hurts.Joy.
Golden Boy by trilliath | 127.7K | Explicit
Apparently it still amuses his uncle to buy sex slaves for him, no matter how steadfastly he refuses to use them. Derek ducks into his tent with a resigned sigh, prepared to dress and reassign whatever new beauty Peter has bought him. They do make for loyal servants, so he can’t really complain about Peter’s ‘gifts’. But it is annoying to deal with, to have to spend his evening sorting out a slave instead of being able to go right to bed. It’s just something he has to learn to accept as a byproduct of serving alongside his uncle.
But when he lays eyes on the boy laying amid his furs, he finds his breath catching in his throat. His skin is golden with the candle-light glimmering against the sheen of oil that has been slathered on his bared body. His lips are parted, and they work over inaudible words or sounds. His skin is flushed, nipples peaked and pierced with simple but unexpected golden rings. He’s spectacularly beautiful in the candlelight. The many glowing candles that have been added to his usual lighting cast glittering edges and shadows, imbuing an almost unearthly golden color to his skin.
It’s enough that Derek hesitates.
A Desperate Arrangement by mikkimouse | 115.5K | Explicit
“I’m sorry, I believe there’s something wrong with my hearing,” Stiles said. “Because I could have sworn you just told me you set up a betrothal agreement with the Hales. A betrothal agreement involving me. Me.”
Scott smiled his easygoing smile and nodded, which told Stiles no, he hadn’t misheard a damn thing.
After seven years of lengthy negotiations, the treaty between the Hales and the Argents has fallen apart and the two countries fell into war.
Months later, there’s an uneasy truce, thanks to the intervention of King Scott McCall, but it won’t last. In a desperate attempt to maintain the peace, the Hales sign a treaty with the McCalls to marry Prince Derek to Prince Stiles Stilinski, King Scott’s brother.
In the history of the world, there have been many better ideas.
Home by TheTypewriterGirl | 167.1K | Explicit
January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death.
The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was.
So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?
Stiles’s Story Time by trilliath | 125.8K | Explicit
Where Stiles is a librarian who is in charge of the kids’ reading hour and such. And Derek is 6-year-old Scott’s adoptive dad. And Stiles has his own take on Stories and Scott loves wolves and Derek tries not to admit that he likes the way Stiles’s face looks in those glasses.
Or something like that.
Do Not Go Gentle by MojoFlower | 195.8K | Explicit
Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha and Dom, wakes up in a dark cell already housing another captive – a mute, traumatized sub with a cruel collar around his neck. His only goal is to get them both free of their brutal circumstances; but even as he tries to get his young companion home, a bond between them grows. Nothing comes easily: danger and harrowing echoes of their ordeal shadow every step they take.
Chosen by exclamation | 99K | Explicit
By tradition, when the Hale heir comes of age, the alpha can choose one boy to serve as the heir’s slave for a month. When Peter Hale chooses Stiles, Stiles expects to spend a month being used and abused. But it seems Derek Hale doesn’t want a sex slave any more than Stiles wants to be one.
Unfortunately, they’re stuck with each other. They have to make it through the next month without killing each other, and without getting Peter Hale to order Stiles’ death.
Meanwhile, Stiles wants to know why exactly Peter picked him.
The Skies Above Are Blue by Trelkez | 95.2K | Explicit
Derek is a wedding DJ. Stiles just happens to go to a lot of weddings.
Kindred Spirits by Stoney | 104.7K | Explicit
Stiles is the adopted son of the Sheriff, brought to Beacon Hills to hopefully stay for good. A family, a best friend, school, Jackson as Josie Pye (because who else could he be?) and the mystery of a dark haired, green-eyed boy which leads Stiles to discovering a secret within himself.
Versus by secondstar | 94.5K | Explicit
At age nineteen, Stiles Stilinski was the next big thing, according to The Guardian. It was surreal, not being able to turn on Sky Sports without hearing his name mentioned along with the names of players he grew up idolizing. Stiles couldn’t believe that this was his life.
Honourable Mention - 61K
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Im so sorry if this is like really random but is there any tips you can give me for writing black readers? I’m writing something for my friend and I rlly don’t wanna mess it up :(
of course!!! ty for doing due diligence and asking!!
there’s a lot that goes into writing for a group that isn’t one you belong to, and first thing is language. how you would usually write and describe things can change at the drop of a hat. in the same breath, it’s very easy to get lost in the colloquialisms and slang and it can border on lowkey racist if you go overboard 😭, so i suggest write like you’re writing for a blank canvas and then add details.
when describing skin (if you do) try and stay away from the whole “her dark chocolate coconut brown edible skin” schtick please 🙏🏾 and for hair, depending on your friends hair type, the descriptive language can change! looser hair is curly, tighter hair is coily. and there’s always protective styles as well.
setting can sometimes play a part, like for example if you’re doing a shower scene, is reader washing her hair? is her hair tied up? is someone washing her hair for her? all important details when choosing verbiage for your story.
i would leave any mentions of ethnic background (if you choose to put any) to an absolute minimum because i personally feel as if something like that is hard to capture within writing unless you live it.
i think i covered all bases, but my messages are always open if you need help with anything else! the most important thing i recommend is doing your research before you put anything on paper. if you’re nervous, having someone black beta read your story can help iron out some cultural and racial inconsistencies if there’s any!
to my black girl readers, feel free to leave comments of tips you suggest as well for nonnie if u have any <3
thank you for asking this question my love, i hope that helps!
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Trafalgar Law X CisFem Reader
2
You finally caught your breath and stopped sobbing, but remained shaking in your fiancé's lap. He stayed quiet watching you quiver as your muscles continued to contract and relax, your brain too scrambled to gain full control. Law's left hand brushed over your cheeks attempting to clear your tears.
It was...unsettling to watch you so out of control.
He knew how much physical pain you were in and how much more you would be in tomorrow.
"F/N-ya," he called softly, fingers pushing through your hairline, "it'll feel better if you sit in the bath."
You shook your head not confident in your ability to stand much less sit in a tub of water.
"It wasn't really a question." The light of the TV illuminated his dark features, "I'll stay with you so you don't drown."
You snorted voice still too weak to properly respond.
A smug simper twisted his lips, "I'll take that as a 'yes'. Up we go."
Already being folded against him made it easier to scoop you up. Ignoring your feeble protest Law rose and strode into your room placing you in a seated position on the bed.
"Strip." He ordered turning to exit.
"What?" You croaked watching him enter the adjoining bathroom to turn on the faucet.
"If you want to sit in the tub in your clothes that's fine by me." Law called emerging only to head for the door to the common space.
Despite your burning muscles you began tugging your leggings down, kicking them off at the foot of the bed. Your fiancé passed back through carrying a small white bag.
"Epsom salt." He muttered before you could ask.
You forced yourself up on shaky legs pulling a thin towel from your dresser to cover yourself once completely undressed. Tucking the corner of the towel between your breasts, you tied your hair up in a loose bun and waddled into the bathroom where Law had just cut off the water.
His eyes trailed over your exposed skin as you quietly stepped into the tub and pulled the curtain almost all the way closed. Your hand jutted out of the opening offering him the balled up towel. Law took it and sat on the covered toilet while you shifted and laid down in the tub opposite him.
The water was heated perfectly almost instantaneously loosening your coiled up muscles. A content sigh pushing passed your lips as your head lulled against the white tiled wall.
Law watched you relax through the small opening in the curtain a bit of concern tugging at him.
"F/N." He called softly, it was the first time since you met that he dropped his colloquial.
You hummed keeping your eyes closed knowing his stormy gaze was locked on your face.
"How often does this happen?"
"Not terribly often." You replied coolly.
"What's that, once a month? Once a week?" He pressed.
Sighing again you opened your eyes meeting his stern glare.
"Anxiety attacks aren't to be taken lightly, F/N."
"Sometimes once a week, sometimes three." You averted your gaze to the floral pattern on the shower curtain.
Law's brows raised taken back by your rather alarming confession. He couldn't believe you were just living this way. From the moment you met he knew you were stubborn, but to just allow yourself to be so stressed and anxious that you spent multiple nights a week curled into yourself struggling to breathe?
It made him angry.
"Don't look at me like that." You muttered keeping your eyes on anything but him.
"You should have told me."
"I don't want to talk about this anymore." You pulled the curtain flush with the wall hiding yourself.
Law huffed settling back against the tank of the commode. Arguing with you wasn't going to help so he decided to save the conversation for another time. You felt your guts twist. It was enough that you were feeling guilty and a little ashamed of your infidelity, but it was also against the law and you didn't want him to know in case you were to somehow get caught. It only happened once and three months had passed without having anyone contact or threaten you. Thank the gods the pregnancy test was negative. All of this stress was probably unnecessary.
A few moments of tense silence passed before Law pulled his phone out to check the time : 1:23AM. He sighed crossing his legs and dropping his hands into his lap.
"Hey." You called in unison.
"I'm sorry I missed dinner," he continued, "I had a patient come in for a stent that turned into a triple bypass."
"Oh, I hope they're ok." You brushed the curtain back to see the void expression on his face.
It made your chest hurt.
His eyes settled on your face as a frown bent his lips, "He had a stroke in the middle of the procedure and we couldn't revive him."
You couldn't imagine the weight that that put on his shoulders; not being able to save a life entrusted to you.
And here you were troubling him with your anxiety attacks.
Stupid.
"I'm so sorry." Was all you could manage.
"It happens unfortunately. I have to go in for a counseling session tomorrow."
"Counseling?"
"Yes, they like to follow up when you lose a patient and also prepare you for the possibility of a malpractice suit. Pretty standard." His gaze fell to his lap.
"Is this your first time?" You asked rubbing your now pruney fingers together.
"No, sadly." He stood unfurling your towel, "Come on, the water can't be warm anymore."
You unplugged the tub and rose taking the towel as he offered it.
"Unless you need help, I'll head to my room."
"I'm ok now, thanks."
He exited as you pulled the curtain back.
After dressing for the night you flopped down on top of you comforter and stretched. Your arms were still a bit sore but the bath had certainly helped you recover. Silence weighed you to the bed while guilty thoughts swam around in your mind. You kept thinking about that vacant expression on his face, it stung. Tossing and turning for nearly an hour got you nowhere. You were exhausted but wide awake trying to stifle the urge to leave your room.
Bare feet padded against the faux wood paneled flooring. You tapped lightly on the door before softly calling his name. It opened almost immediately as if he'd already been standing there. You studied his tired face before gathering the confidence to speak.
"I-I'm ... that is..."
"Afraid to sleep alone?" a smug smirk pulled at his lips.
"Shut up." you sighed.
"Be my guest." he opened the door all the way gesturing you inside.
Quietly you crawled into his bed and settled back to back.
"Law?" you whispered rolling over to face him.
"F/N-ya?" he remained with his back to you.
"I'm sorry for being a burden after you had such an awful day."
Your fiancé shifted to meet your gaze, "Stop putting some much guilt on yourself. We are going to have to learn how to rely on each other a bit more."
You nodded and closed your eyes letting his words sink in. Eventually you both gave into your exhaustion.
The morning sun filtering through the blinds brought you out of your slumber. It had been a while since you slept passed sunrise. The room was empty; you figured Law had headed in for his counseling session.
Unlocking your phone you saw you had a few unread texts.
Usopp : hey boss. It's slow again today you shouldn't worry about coming in.
Law : be back around noon.
The third was a number you didn't have saved but knew by heart.
206-555-4524 : I need to see you.
#trafalgar d law x reader#trafalgar law#closure#x reader#fem reader#marco the phoenix#mdni#18+ mdni#slow burn#lyndsyh24#one piece
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Shadow Knight, and Magic Girls XI
AO3 Link
Chapter 11
Ruby was not having a good time.
"Oh, look how cute she is!" A pair of big motherly arms swooped her up, and swung her around.
Ok, maybe, she was having a little bit of a good time.
Pyrrha looked wide eyed at the magnificent specimen of a woman, known colloquially as Mama Arc.
Broad-shouldered. Wide Hips. Slightly taller than Pyrrha herself, putting her just under her son and husbands height. She was beautiful in a aged wine sense, in that while she an older woman, she wasn't worse off for it.
White-streaked blonde hair in neat-bun, Pyrrha noticed Jaune had inherited his mothers eyes in color, but his father's shape. His mother had much softer and more watery eyes.
Her chest was also enormous, and Pyrrha couldn't be sure it was all natural and from being such a large woman, or from having so many children.
As Pyrrha peered into the home of the Arc Clan, where besides the already met twins, were 3 more young ladies of the same origin, if developed differently. On, the wall she spotted a photo of a young Jaune, and seven girls, so, she correctly assumed them to be his sisters.
She looked back at Mama Arc's chest. It was a mystery, poor Ruby looked like she was about to expire.
"Oh!" Pyrrha saw a shadow loom over her. "I also didn't see you! Aren't you just precious!" Pyrrha had a moment, and she saw her doom, then was too pulled into the Mama Arc's embrace.
While she and Ruby fought for they're lives, they realized, that Jaune had gotten his physical ability not just from his father!
----
Jaune watched Pyrrha and Ruby go through the normal initiation to being brought into the Arc House.
Then he turned his attention to the backyard, his father pressing a bow into his hand.
"It's been a while since we've had a chance to shoot together."
Papa Arc made his living on his bow string, having gotten good enough as a teen to be picked up a major team as a trainee, before going pro and making enough to retire early from sponsorships, then a few wise investments later, he had start up his own online store for custom bows, meant for sports, hunting, or just luxury.
Jaune held the bow in his hand, flipping it around, early in his career as a monster hunter he had considered using a bow, his father had taught him how to hunt with one, even if his aim needed work, but he had dismissed the idea.
A gun was just more practical, didn't need a quiver either, or as much back strength, and easily concealable.
Still..
Jaune let a arrow flew, hitting the edge of the target.
It wouldn't hurt to knock the rust off the skill.
"Wow. That sucked." His father snickered.
Then fired five arrows in rapid succession, forming a L in the target.
"Want to try again?." Papa Arc said playfully.
Jaune rolled his eyes, drew his string back, and shot a bit closer to the center. "Hey! I'm still warming up!"
"Yeah, that's what they all say," His father did a trick shot, shooting three at once, hitting at the end of the L in a line, to make it into a U. "U need to practice more, is what I say." His father drawled.
Jaune notched another arrow and fire, hitting the yellow rim of the target. "I think I'm doing fine."
Papa Arc smirked. "For a novice. Though, keep it up, and one day you'll be good like your old man."
Jaune shook his head, and patted his father on the back, sending man stumbling. "I don't know about that,"
His father coughed, the breath knocked out of him. "Geez, son! What you've been eating? It felt like you hit me in the back with a brick!" His father coughed again, but he looked proud. "Well, you might look half-dead, but at least you're zombie strong!"
"Thanks?"
"Zombies are strong, son. They're always crawling out of the earth, you know how hard that is? Bursting out of a coffin that's hard. Well, I wouldn't know, but it's still difficult, I think."
Jaune did not want to find out, he wasn't claustrophobic, but he appreciated being out in the open more than he did inside a box.
"Guess, you're right."
"As I always am." His father looked at his mother, and smiled. "We should go save your girlfriends, before your mother suffocates them. You know your sisters aren't going to help!"
"And, when have they ever been helpful? Also, not dating them, they're not interested in me."
Papa Arc laughed. "Yeah, you're mom and I had them to sit around and look pretty." He paused. "You included."
"Hey!"
----
Dinner was not a quiet affair in the Arc home. Ruby practically burrowed into the seat of her chair, trying to avoid eye-contact with any of the big blonde beasts that inhabited the Arc houses. Her best efforts were met with failure, as her Besties sisters descent upon her like a ... big scary thing.
The jerk didn't even help her! Pyrrha was too busy being mobbed to help either, well at least she did not suffer by herself. She'd make sure to bring the rest of the test with her next time as sacrifices ... Backup, she meant backup.... Sacrifices.
Eventually, she and Pyrrha migrated around to either side of Jaune, looking to him for protection from the rest, but that was when she realized, that he was just as much a victim as the rest of them.
"I can't believe Mr. Moody decided to grace us with his presences!" Rouge, one of the older sisters, her hair tied back into a messy pony tail, she shamelessly dressed in bright-red sports-bra and shorts, she lacked the full-body of her older sisters and mother, but made up for it toned muscle and tan skin. "I almost forgot what you looked like. Eh, 5/10, too much blonde, needs a tan."
Jaune twirled his fork quietly before eating, but Ruby noticed that he had a sinister smirk. "Good to see you, Rouge. I see you didn't shower yet." He crinkled his nose. "I smelt you a block away!"
"Oh! You want to go, little man!? I can put you in a headlock just like I used too!"
"You couldn't wrap both arms around my arm, much less my neck, you numbskull."
Ruby thought for a second that she was about to throw herself over the table at Jaune.
But, instead they launched into a back and forth the likes she thought only happened in her home, but soon realized that her sibling conflict was mundane compared to the level of spite the Arc siblings had towards one another, not hate, but rage and annoyance.
The Arc home was big, but you could only pack so many people in so much space before they start fighting, and family was no exception.
"Cut it out, you two, we have guests." Rose Arc was the one most resembled Mama Arc physically and so far the closest in age to the parents, but with a much more calm and subdued atmosphere. But, instead of a hair-bun, her hair went down to her shoulders neatly, wearing a nice pink dress, that Ruby was in no way biased towards with it's awesome rose in the middle. "If you want to play wait till later."
The two huffed, and look ready to argue, but a single glance from her silanced them.
"Sorry," A quiet voice from next to Ruby got her attention, Noire Arc, young than the twins, and one of Jaune's younger sisters, and the only one with glasses, and a bob cut. She was dressed moodily, wearing black eye-shadow and lipstick, but dressed conservatively, looking like a mini-goth librarian. "They're like this all the time, or used to be." She paused. "Get out while you still can."
Ruby giggled. "I wish, but I'm that lugs best friend!"
Noire looked at her curiously. "Why? You can do better."
Ruby frowned. "What's that supposed to mean? Jaune's great!"
She looked at her plate. "He's an Arc."
"And?"
Noire cocked her head at Ruby. "You don't read much history, do you?"
Ruby laughed awkwardly, she was only barely passing history with Weiss and Blakes help, even though they kept giving her conflicting answers on the reasons behind certain events in history, even if both were technically correct.
"I do." Pyrrha said. "I'm Jaune's friend too, what makes him unworthy to be our friend?" Did Pyrrha say that word weirdly? Ruby asked herself, and then turned back to the youngest Arc.
"Yeah? What's up?"
Noire sighs. "Fertility. Most Arc men have they're first child at fifteen, at least historically speaking, Dad got Mom pregnant at 14, though, and she was only 19 herself. They get going young. They're all man-whores."
Noire ate some more. "So, don't get your hopes up. He'll break your hearts," She shrugged. "Odds are he's already done it at least once, especially with how often he's not home, and given he's already talking about moving out, well, it's not hard to put two and two together."
Ruby dropped her fork. "Uh ..." She looked to Pyrrha for help, but she had her normal smile on. "What's that have to do with anything? He's our friend."
Noire looked at her like she was dense. "It's not uncommon, historically, our dad's a exception, though, for Arcs to have bastards. Get away, before he sinks his claws in you." She paused in thought. "It's not entirely his fault though, Arc's have been in war after war for as long as they can remember, it's a short bloody life, and fighting for one's life stimulates the urges." She took another bite, as though she was talking about the weather. "No chance of us dying out at least."
"So, hypothetically speaking, if Jaune was readily involved ..."
"Well, if he doesn't have as much self control as father, statistically, then yes, just by sheer records of the natural-born recorded in the family tree."
"... How grand."
Ruby shrank closer to Jaune, feeling the need to protect him, as Pyrrha's smile was creeping her out.
Jaune didn't seem to notice still bickering with Rouge, but with much less energy behind it. Eventually, dinner wound down, and Papa and Mama Arc stood up.
"Jaune." Papa Arc. "I just want to let you know, that were proud of you taking your first steps into adulthood, and getting a job, even if you still need to work on your grades."
"Most of us." Rouge said.
Mama Arc shushed her.
"And, seeing as we have you hear, we wanted to tell you that a couple things," Papa Arc put a arm around his wife.
Jaune leaned forward curiously.
"You're sister Blanche is coming home from Mantle in a couple weeks, and so, is my Dad! So, we wanted to let you know ahead of time, so that you could make time to talk with them."
Jaune looked shocked. "Blanche is coming home?"
"Yes, son."
"And, Grandpa?"
"Yes, son."
"Oh." Jaune said flatly, he looked at Ruby and Pyrrha. "We should be going, I need to escort them home."
They're was chorus of interest around the table.
"Also, we're having another baby." Mama Arc said suddenly.
"What!?" Jaune looked like his eyes were about to leap out of socket.
"Just kidding, just wanted to give you a scare." Mama Arc said teasingly.
Jaune shook his head. "Thanks for dinner."
Then he escorted Pyrrha and Ruby out.
Ruby looked at Jaune confused. "Buddy? Why don't you look happy about your grandpa and big sis coming home?"
"Yes, you look alarmed." Pyrrha added.
Jaune said nothing for a good minute, organizing his thoughts. "Blanche hasn't been my sister in a long time." That was saying the least about her, ever since her incident in high-school, she has been different, not the sister he knew as a child.
When she moved to Mantle for her health issues, he had been relieved, it was finally chance for her to get better. That hope had been dashed, when he got his first letter from her.
"Oh. I'm sorry." Ruby added. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No. I really, really don't want to." Jaune added, repressing a shutter. "She's not my sister anymore."
"What about your grandpa?"
"He's distant, I never really known him that well." Jaune said, having to think on what he should say about the man, other than he was older than dirt. "He's practically a stranger, my older sisters know him better though," Not by much, though.
Jaune stopped, as he felt his hands suddenly grasped, squeezed with surprising strength by two soft, small hands.
"Jaune," Ruby started. "You got us."
Pyrrha stared him dead-on. "You can rely on us, you're troubles are our troubles. Don't forget that."
Jaune looked away, he couldn't deal with kindness. "I should be the one telling you too that." They were too good for him.
"You can, but don't forget it, that no matter what happens, you'll have us."
"Forever and ever, onto eternity."
Jaune looked at his feet, but looked internally for a source of strength inside him. He found it and looked back at them, a genuine smile on his lips. "I'll take you up on that, if you let me pay you back in kind."
"Of course!" Ruby said, putting her fist to her chest.
Pyrrha smiled gracefully. "I would not have it any other way."
Away, just inside the doorway, Noire watched with a sigh, and looking at the current family tree, and added two names with question marks, then marked them off as lost causes to warning.
"Poor little birdies don't even know they're already in his web." Then turned around inside.
----
"Strip." Amber marched to Jaune and demanded, jabbing her pointer finger into his chest, with a unyielding look. "Now."
Jaune looked at the Twin and Vernal for help, but they looked at him with amusement.
"We need to check your status before we let you go out to night, as you're personal physician, I have the final say in your late night activity. If you're not well, I'm not giving my approval to you, and I will tell Big Bear that you're going out risking your life." She paused thinking on her statement. "Beyond the normally approved amount." She jabbed her finger harder into Jaune. "Today please, get those clothes off!"
Vernal whistled, and Jaune noticed that Militades was recording him, while Melanie was smirking, holding a stack of Lien, ready to make it 'rain'.
Jaune knew he was beat, and took his top off.
Amber went around with a clinical and detached expression, poking him, writing down her finding, and over all being a menace to Jaune's sense of personal space.
Eventually, she relented.
Shink.
Then stabbed him with a needle.
Jaune bit his lip, looking at Amber with surprise and horror. "Why?" He asked.
"It's diluted Water Dust." She added as if he should understand.
"Ok, but why?"
"It'll accelerate your healing rate, and energy levels."
Jaune looked down, his wounds looked the same. Maybe, a little less red and angry looking?
"No, not like that. It'll heal you faster than naturally, but it'll still take a couple hours, and as the Water Dust breaks down in your body, you'll also need less hydration than normal, so less risk of you overheating, or getting dehydrated, and making poor choices." She add with a sharp look.
Then she touched his arm, feeling around. Jaune resisted the urge to squirm around. "Stop it." She ordered. "I you're full of knots all over! How do you even move in this state, it must be excruciating."
"You get used to it." Jaune muttered.
"That's stupid." She wrote something on the clipboard. "I'm adding a stupid point to you're record."
"What, and why?"
"Because, I can, and it will make you think twice." She started working his into his shoulders, forcing him to lie down on a table. "Do you even stretch?"
Jaune was silent.
"Jaune, do you stretch?"
Jaune did not answer.
She dug her elbow into his back.
"When I remember, alright?!" Jaune yelped.
"You can't be doing that! You're going to start doing cool downs stretches, from now on, Mister! Understood?!"
"Yes!" Jaune yelped as she popped something in his spine, pain was one thing, but sudden discomfort was another thing.
"Good." Amber added sweetly. "I'd hate for this hunk of sweet meat to get broken."
"What was that?"
Amber blushed. "Nothing." Then got up and sat down, facing burning. "You're good."
The twins escorted him off, it was time to get him suited up for another night out, and show him his new outfit.
Vernal sat down next to Amber, smirking. "Hunk of sweet meat, huh? Not what I'd call him, but close enough."
"Shut up, I hate you." Amber muttered.
"Love you, too." Vernal planted a kiss on her cheek, Amber pushing her away in annoyance.
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Taking Care of Business (Chapter Thirty-Three)
Summary: The notorious mechanic of Mos Eisley sells the trio a replacement droid and on Mandalore, the Clan of Three faces more than one challenging obstacle as they search for the Living Waters.
Pairing: Din Djarin X Fem!Reader
Word Count: 6k
Warnings/Disclaimers: None
A/N: It’s time to finally visit our favorite mechanic and then we’re off to Mandalore! Thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy!
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Mines of Mandalore
(Previous Chapter)
“Whoo-hoo! You hear that? She’s purring like a nuzzle shrew!”
(Y/N) grinned at Peli’s colloquial turn of phrase as she switched the starfighter’s engines off. “No complaints so far, but she’s still a little faster than I know what to do with.”
“Well, I’ll tune her up just the same,” The mechanic gave them a wide smile, showing off the gap in her teeth caused during the skirmish between Boba Fett and the Pyke Syndicate not too long ago. “So, uh, where’s my guy?” Before either (Y/N) or Din could reply, Grogu popped up from his seat on her lap and Peli clapped her hands in delight. “There he is!” The child expertly leapt out of the cockpit and into Peli’s open arms. “Now, who taught you how to leap like a Lurmen, huh?”
Din leapt down from the starfighter and extended a hand up to help (Y/N) down, lowering his modulated voice as the mechanic continued fawning over the babbling child. “You know she’s gonna try and rip us off again, right?”
“Her and every other kriffing mechanic in the galaxy, but at least she’s got a nice sense of humor,” (Y/N) shrugged and allowed him to give her a Keldabe Kiss before turning her attention back to Peli. “It’s good to see you again, Peli. How’ve you been?”
“Always so polite! You sure snagged yourself a real lady, Mando; there’s not too many of us out there in the galaxy…” Peli winked at him and (Y/N) hid her smile as he mutely stared back. “Well, it’s Boonta Week and I’ve been making a pretty good killing here, so no complaints. Are you three here for Boonta Eve?”
Din shook his head. “No, we’re here on business.”
“Oh, are the Hutts back? Are you takin’ out Boba Fett?”
“We need a droid part.”
Peli’s excited expression fell and she rolled her eyes. “Urgh, boring!” She turned to the pit droids working on a blue and silver speeder in the hangar’s corner. “Hey, get the Jawas back in here before they hit the cantina.” The pit droids chattered amongst themselves as they followed the mechanic’s order. “You know how Mos Eisley gets during Boonta week…” She held an invisible glass and mimed guzzling down a drink, much to Grogu’s amusement and Din’s exasperation.
“The Anzellans on Nevarro weren’t able to help us, but we were hoping that you’d be able to,” Din explained as Peli led them further into the hangar. “We’re looking for a replacement IG memory circuit.”
The mechanic scoffed. “Oh hey, grandpa. They haven’t made those for a while.” The pit droids led three irritated Jawas into the hangar and Peli addressed them in Jawaese, but the Jawas soon shook their hooded heads and scampered away. “Sorry, pal, no chance cubes.”
“They can’t find the part?”
“Nope.”
“We need our droid fixed now.”
(Y/N) rested a soothing hand on her husband’s beskar chestplate and gave him a gentle smile. “In the meantime, I’m sure that there’s something that Peli can do for us. We’re a couple of her favorite clients, after all.”
“Right as usual! Which is why I think you should buy this beauty here.” Peli stood beside a red and white astromech droid and patted its top, ignoring the puff of smoke and the panel popping off its center.
Din looked between the mechanic and the droid in incredulity. “We can’t use an astromech; we need a droid that’s rated for spelunking.”
“Spelunking? What are you spelunking?”
“We’re going to Mandalore,” Din explained and (Y/N) nodded. “We need a droid that can explore ahead of us and test the atmosphere, make sure it’s safe to breathe.”
Peli sighed. “Okay, well…” The frightened astromech droid started to roll backwards but was quickly spotted by the mechanic. “Uh-uh-uh-uh, get right back here! Right back here, scaredy droid! Come on, now, you gotta shine.” She chuckled and patted the droid’s top again. “This R5 astromech is built for adventure-” The astromech interrupted her with a series of timid beeps, but she only rolled her eyes. “What? Of course you are! You’re supposed to be piloting starfighters across the galaxy and fighting tyranny!”
(Y/N) looked over at Din beside her and watched as he shook his helmeted head in irritation. “It’s falling apart and besides, we’ve got no room for it on the N-1.”
“Nonsense, R5-D4 is as good as the day it came back from serving in the Rebellion! And I’ll reinstall your droid port so this little baby here can even co-pilot.” The droid shuddered and Peli fixed it with a hard glare. “Hey, if you don’t settle your bolts, I’ll sell you back to the Jawas.” She turned back to them with a toothy smile. “And because it’s Boonta, what I’m gonna do is I’m gonna give you this for half the price and throw in a free oil bath.”
Turning to face Din, (Y/N) lowered her voice and pointed out, “We don’t know how long it’ll take to track down that memory circuit or if we’ll even be able to, and an astromech could still really come in handy on Mandalore.”
Din heaved a deep sigh before looking over her shoulder at Peli. “Fine, we’ll take it.”
“I knew you’d make the smart business decision, Mando! Hey, pit droids!” Peli shouted, setting Grogu down and marching across the hangar towards their starfighter. “Bring me my tool chest and prep the oil tank, and be quick about it!”
While the mechanic barked out orders and started working on the starfighter, (Y/N) knelt in front of the timid astromech and smiled. “Hi, R5. It’s always nice to meet a fellow veteran of the Rebellion; I was a captain in the Alliance Fleet, but I never had the honor of flying with an astromech.” She picked up the panel that had popped off and carefully fixed it back on. “There you go, all fixed.” The R5 unit beeped and whistled, and she grinned at his binary message of thanks. “You’re welcome. Enjoy your oil bath!” She got to her feet and brushed the sand off her trousers as the astromech rolled away, but she stopped when she noticed Din staring at her. “What?”
“I thought you weren’t a fan of astromechs.”
“I’m usually not, but he’s a Rebellion veteran,” (Y/N) shrugged. “He might be a droid, but he chose to help us fight the Empire and his service deserves to be as appreciated as any other being’s would be.”
The Mandalorian rested a gloved hand on her waist and lowered his forehead to rest against hers. “Ner cyar’ika alor’ad. Every day since the day I met you, I’ve admired that kind heart of yours.”
(Y/N) felt her face warm at her husband’s words but before she could reply, Peli shouted across the hangar, “Hey, lovebirds! I’ll knock a couple of credits off your bill if you can tear yourselves away from one another and give us a hand over here!”
Chuckling, (Y/N) pressed a fleeting kiss onto the beskar covering Din’s mouth and scooped Grogu up into her arms. “C’mon, you two, let’s go help Peli so we can leave Tatooine before the Boonta Eve festivities get too out of hand…”
The three of them spent the afternoon reinstalling the starfighter’s droid port and tuning the engines and by the time they finished, night had fallen over Mos Eisley and its citizens had begun lighting fireworks to celebrate Boonta Eve. After a quick meal of bantha jerky and biscuits, (Y/N) and Din climbed up into the starfighter’s cockpit and as Grogu jumped up onto (Y/N)’s lap, Peli helped R5 settle into the starfighter’s new droid port.
“Oh, come on, now, don’t be a coward. You’re an astromech, act like one!” Peli scolded before fixing (Y/N) and Din with a knowing look. “I wouldn’t rely too much on this one. Its circuitry’s a little fragile.”
“I thought you said it was built for adventu-?”
The mechanic suddenly slammed the windshield shut and shouted over the engines and the fireworks exploding overhead. “What? Sorry, I can’t hear you!”
Biting her lip to keep from smiling while Din grumbled under his breath, (Y/N) steered the starfighter upwards and remarked, “Peli really is one of a kind, isn’t she?”
While her husband mumbled something in Mando’a, Peli waved alongside her pit droids and called out, “May the Force be with you!”
(Y/N) flew the starfighter over the streets of Mos Eisley and her heart warmed when she noticed Grogu watching the colorful fireworks illuminating the sky in silent awe; Din noticed too, lifting a gloved hand from her waist to stabilize the child as he sat on (Y/N)’s shoulder and pressed his little clawed hands against the windshield. “All right, kid. You ready for an adventure?”
Grogu squealed in delight and R5 anxiously beeped away in the droid port as the starfighter made its way through Tatooine’s upper atmosphere and shot off into hyperspace, charting a course to Mandalore and to Din’s imminent redemption.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Several hours later, (Y/N) was nervously biting her lip and trying her hardest to think positive thoughts as the starfighter came out of hyperspace. “I knew that the Empire did a number on Mandalore, but this…?”
The planet’s surface had been completely destroyed in the Purge and from what little they could make out through the intense weather patterns sweeping through its atmosphere, it was indeed crystalized and barren of the usual signs of life. It was a sight that (Y/N) had seen time and time again throughout the Rebellion, but knowing that the planet before them was near and dear to her husband and his religion made her blood run cold and led to her silently cursing the Empire for what they’d done.
Grogu whimpered in fright but Din was quick to console him. “It looks scary, I know. But it was once green and beautiful, back when the songs were written. It’s Mandalore, the homeworld of our people; every Mandalorian can trace their roots back to this planet, and the beskar mines deep within. And you know what? I’ve never been there, either.” Din pointed to one of the planet’s distant moons. “I grew up there, on that moon. Concordia.”
“And that’s Kalevala, where we visited Bo-Katan,” (Y/N) added and gestured towards a dot on the starfighter’s scope. “It’s in the same system.”
Grogu cooed and wrapped his hand around one of Din’s fingers as the Mandalorian continued, “A Mandalorian has to understand maps and know their way around. That way, you’ll never be lost.”
Tightening her grip on the controls, (Y/N) surveyed Mandalore’s upper atmosphere with cautious eyes and nodded. “I think I can get us through all that, but it’ll be a bumpy ride.” She leaned down to press a kiss onto Grogu’s wrinkled head. “Hold on tight, little guy.” With a sharp twist of the controls, she piloted the starfighter down through the planet’s storm-filled sky, looking past the sleet and rain pummeling the windshield to avoid the sporadic lightning strikes that lit up the darkened clouds. After several tense moments, they emerged from the storm and flew across the clear skies of Mandalore’s capital city. “See? I told you I could get us through all that,” (Y/N) chuckled after breathing a sigh of relief.
“We never doubted you once, alor’ad. Did we, kid?”
Grogu cuddled up against (Y/N)’s chest and she gave his head a quick pat before smacking the starfighter’s blinking console. “Looks like the fusion bombs from the Purge disrupted the magnetic field around the planet. From the surface, we won’t be able to communicate with anyone out of atmosphere, so we have to be careful.”
She could feel Din nod behind her. “Down here, we’re completely cut off from the rest of the galaxy.”
Spotting a flat patch of crystalized earth, (Y/N) landed the starfighter down onto it and switched off the engines before addressing the astromech through the comms. “Okay, R5, we’re gonna need you to scout ahead and analyze the atmosphere.”
R5’s beeps and whistles were interrupted by an impatient Din. “That wasn’t a question.” He reached past (Y/N) and unceremoniously released the astromech from his droid port, ignoring the pointed look that (Y/N) gave him as he pointed towards a cluster of green-colored crystals nearby. “Go over to that split in the rock, and take an air sample of the ruins below.”
The three of them watched the astromech reluctantly wheel itself towards the rocks and (Y/N) stroked one of Grogu’s ears to soothe his anxious whimpers. “R5 will be fine, little guy, we just need him to take some readings to make sure it’s safe for us.”
The astromech stopped and turned his top to look back at the ship and beep. “Don’t be a baby. Just get the samples we need, and hurry up.”
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to be just a little nicer to the poor droid. I think he’s intimidated by you…” (Y/N) pointed out but before her husband could reply, R5 disappeared from view and Grogu let out a fearful wail. “Here, Grogu, look. You can watch him on the scope.” The child watched the red dot that represented R5 move farther and farther away, and (Y/N)’s brow shot up in surprise when the dot vanished from the scope altogether. “…Dank farrik.”
“R5, come in. Do you read me?” There was only static coming through the comms. “It’s probably just interference.”
Grogu stared up at Din with eyes wide in fear and even (Y/N) was beginning to feel that something was wrong. “Sweetheart, I’ve got a bad feeling about this and so does Grogu. R5 could be in some serious trouble right now.”
Her husband looked between the both of them before sighing and giving them a nod. “Fine, I’ll go get him. Normally, this is droid work; I was hoping to avoid going out there.”
“Wait, I’m going with you-”
“Alor’ad, someone has to watch Grogu and the ship in case the droid’s disappearance is some sort of diversion.” Din lifted the edge of his helmet so he could kiss her furrowed brow. “I’ll be okay, I promise.” He waited for her to nod before reaching into one of the side compartments and pulling out a portable oxygen mask. “I’ll pressurize my helmet, but you’ll need to wear this while I open the top and Grogu, you’ll need to seal yourself in your pod.”
Grogu closed his pram and (Y/N) fastened the oxygen pack onto her blaster belt. “Be careful, Din.”
“I’ll be right back.” Din waited for her to secure the mask over her mouth and nose before opening the starfighter’s windshield and climbing down; as soon as it slid back into place, she pulled the mask off and the child emerged from his pram, his large ears drooping at the sight of the Mandalorian walking off towards the rocks in the distance.
“It’s okay, little guy, he’ll be right back,” (Y/N) reassured him, but the ominous feeling remained festering in the pit of her stomach and judging by the way Grogu was looking at her, she suspected that he felt the same way. “I don’t like this. I’m gonna go and help him, all right?” Grogu cooed and patted her hand before closing himself up in his pram again, and she took a deep breath, slipping her oxygen mask back on and climbing down from the cockpit. With a small wave to Grogu anxiously watching her, (Y/N) drew her blaster and slowly crossed the clearing to the jagged crevice in the rock. She entered the dimly-lit tunnel with the intent of quietly reconnoitering, but the sounds of battle ahead urged her forward into a run.
When she turned another corner, she was met with the terrifying sight of Din fighting off three snarling humanoid creatures; he held the Darksaber in his hand and as she watched, he cut one of the creatures along its torso and let it roll off the nearby cliff overlooking a massive cavern housing the ruins of a sprawling city. He sidestepped the second’s attack and shoved it hard over the cliff, but the third creature slammed its club against his back; before it could strike him again, (Y/N) shot it in its torso and bought Din enough time to counter its strikes and stab it through the chest with the Darksaber. He retracted the illuminated blade and pushed the corpse over the cliff as (Y/N) hurried over to him.
“I told you I didn’t have a good feeling about all this,” She joked and handed him his dropped blaster. “Are you okay?”
Din nodded, holstering his weapons and giving her hand a squeeze before gesturing to the opposite side of the tunnel. “I’m fine, and I think the droid is too.” R5 beeped and whistled in indignation as he laid on a pile of crystalized earth, and the both of them exchanged a look before striding over to him. They both righted the weighty astromech and while (Y/N) brushed off his sides, Din gave his domed top a pat. “Okay, you’re all right. Now come on, let’s get you back to the ship.”
They followed R5 out of the tunnels and crossed the clearing to the starfighter; Grogu’s face brightened in relief when they came into view and he tapped an impatient hand against the windshield as they stopped beside the ship. “Hang on, little guy. Not until we check the toxicity.”
“You got an analysis on the atmosphere yet?” Din asked the astromech. R5 replied in binary and projected a graph into the space before them, and both Din and (Y/N) exchanged a look of surprise. “The charts were wrong; the atmosphere is breathable.”
“Which means that Bo-Katan was right,” (Y/N) breathed in realization, slipping off her oxygen mask and opening the starfighter’s windshield. “Mandalore’s not cursed. It was all a lie spread by the Empire to keep the Mandalorians in exile.”
After situating Grogu in his pram and helping R5 back into the starfighter’s droid port, they drew their blasters and cautiously navigated the tunnels, their senses on high alert after Din’s ambush. They found themselves standing on the same cliff overlooking the ruined city, and they both holstered their blasters. “That’s the Civic Center; this is where Bo-Katan said to go.” He wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s waist. “Hold on tight.”
(Y/N) flung both arms around Din’s neck just as he jumped off the cliff and activated his jetpack, pressing her face against his chestplate to avoid looking down and watching their slow descent. When their feet finally touched the ground, she leaned back far enough to meet the visor of Din’s helmet and sighed. “I still can’t help but think this would be less terrifying if I had my own jetpack.”
“You’re perfectly safe with me, alor’ad.” Her husband suddenly scooped her up so that one arm supported her back while the other curled under the crook of her knees, and she could hear the smile in his voice as she clung tighter to him. “Besides, I wouldn’t be able to hold you like this if you had your own jetpack.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and glanced around, realizing that they were standing on a crumbling walkway only halfway down the chasm. “The mines should be further down. I guess we’re on our own from here.”
Grogu babbled in agreement from his pram and Din jumped down from the walkway, the gentle hum of the jetpack echoing off the walls and structures they passed on their way down. When they reached the bottom, Din gently set her down and she drew her blaster as he switched on his helmet’s flashlight; she studied the massive pipes that they walked past and looked down at the water dripping from the walls. “Well, I think it’s safe to assume that these waters lead down to the mines and the Living Waters. We follow the water and we’ll find the mines in no time.”
Din nudged her arm and nodded towards an opening on their left. “Look, that passage heads down.”
They climbed down the slight slope and walked through the opening, silently examining the debris littering the ground. Spotting the familiar t-shaped visor of a Mandalorian helmet poking out of the dirt, Din knelt down and (Y/N) followed as he carefully tugged the sculpted beskar loose; Grogu cooed sadly and (Y/N) rested a comforting hand on her husband’s pauldron, but before either of them could say anything, the earth around them exploded and they were tightly encased in metal brackets. The trap flipped over, pressing Din’s body into (Y/N)’s and her back against the brackets, and two needles stabbed themselves into their necks, causing (Y/N)’s vision to darken and eventually turn black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“…wake up. C’mon, alor’ad, open your eyes for me…please, (Y/N), you’ve gotta open your eyes…”
Groaning in pain, (Y/N) struggled to open her heavy eyes and when she finally succeeded, she was met with the sight of Din’s helmet directly in front of her. “D-Din? What happened?”
“Thank the Maker,” He breathed a sigh of relief. “We were caught in some sort of cyborg’s trap. I saw some beskar helmets when it brought us in here; I think it harvests Mandalorians.”
She was unable to move her head much but she could tell that their bracketed trap was suspended above the ground in a dimly-lit chamber. Before she could ask about Grogu, the cyborg approached their trap and reached a mechanized hand through the brackets to remove Din’s blaster and the Darksaber. It tossed the weapons onto the ground and chattered to itself as it crawled across the chamber; when she could no longer hear it, she shakily released the breath she’d been holding and whispered, “My blaster’s wedged between my back and the brackets, but I can’t move my arms.”
“Neither can I…” Din shifted above her and grunted in annoyance. “I don’t know what that thing injected us with, but my head feels like it’s been trampled by a bantha.”
A quiet shuffling nearby drew his attention and (Y/N)’s brow furrowed at his small gasp. “What is it, Din?”
“Grogu.” They both craned their necks to look at the child, who was standing near the trap and holding a clawed hand out towards them; he closed his eyes and after a moment’s pause, the trap began to shake but it loudly clanged against its control panel, drawing the cyborg’s attention and spurring Din into calling out, “Get to Bo-Katan!”
Grogu jumped out of the way of the electrical blast that the cyborg fired from its staff, leapt into his pram and sped out of the chamber. The cyborg disappeared into a separate area of the chamber, and (Y/N)’s eyes prickled with unshed tears. “He’s gonna be okay. He’s gonna find Bo-Katan, and we’ll be out of this mess in no time.”
“Of course we will,” Din agreed, trying his hardest to keep his voice even and calm. “We’re gonna be fine, alor’ad, I promise.”
(Y/N) wasn’t sure how long it took for her to realize that she was taking shallow breaths or that her limbs were beginning to grow numb but when she did, she couldn’t help but wheeze out a breathless chuckle. “Usually, I’m quite fond of having you on top of me but I think I prefer it without all the beskar.”
Her husband didn’t laugh or make another quip, instead trying to lift some of his weight off of her chest but to no avail. “You need to take slower breaths…regulate your breathing…do that for me, alor’ad?”
Din’s voice was cutting in and out and after (Y/N) blinked hard in an attempt to clear her eyes, she noticed the black dots starting to litter her vision. “D-Din? I can’t…can’t breathe…”
“I know, ner cyar’ika alor’ad, I know, but you’ve…eyes open for me, okay? Don’t fall asleep…”
Everything around her began to fade away, from her husband’s panicked voice and the distant creaking of the cyborg to the pain encasing her entire body, and the last thing she did was thank whatever deity that was watching over them that her end was painless.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dreams of Naboo and a woman’s mournful yet beautiful singing abruptly ended when (Y/N) gasped for air, her eyes flying open and her hand reaching for her blaster when memories of their capture filled her foggy mind.
“Easy, Captain,” Bo-Katan soothed and held her hands out in a peaceful gesture; the Nite Owl was seated by a small fire beside Grogu, who squealed in delight when he saw that (Y/N) was conscious, and it appeared as though they were back on the cliff that overlooked the ruined Civic Center. “You were out for a while – lack of oxygen mixed with a bad reaction to whatever that thing injected you with – but you’re safe now.”
(Y/N) lowered her blaster and smiled a little when the child hurried over to her and crawled into her lap. “I knew you’d be able to find Bo-Katan. Good job, my little hero.” Hugging Grogu to her chest, she glanced up at Bo-Katan with a grateful nod. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The Nite Owl’s lips curved into a smile and she gestured to the cups she was heating over the fire. “I’m making pog soup; trust me, it’ll make you feel better in no time.”
Grogu cooed in interest and returned to his spot by the fire while (Y/N) looked over at the unconscious Mandalorian lying beside her; his beskar-covered chest was slowly rising and falling and when she realized that he didn’t have any visible injuries, she breathed a quiet sigh of relief before scooting closer to lean over him. “Din?” She placed a hand on the beskar covering his cheek and caressed her thumb along the metal. “Sweetheart, it’s me.”
A moment passed and Din slowly began to stir. “(Y/N)?” His gloved hand moved to hold her waist and gently tug her down into his embrace. “Maker, I thought that you’d…you wouldn’t wake up, and I thought…” He choked up, unable to finish his sentence; his free hand cupped her cheek as she rested her forehead against his in a Keldabe Kiss. “I think I’d prefer having you on top of me from now on, alor’ad.”
(Y/N) let out a watery laugh at that. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad,” Din murmured and took hold of her hand, slipping it beneath the edge of his helmet and pressing his lips against her fingertips.
“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika riduur.”
With a final smile, (Y/N) sat up and helped the Mandalorian sit next to her, and he finally looked over at where Bo-Katan was preparing the soup by the fire. “What happened?”
The Nite Owl shrugged. “I saved your lives.”
“How did you find us?”
“Your kid.” Bo-Katan smiled and nodded towards Grogu. “He’s tougher than he looks, and he’s quite the navigator.”
Din sat up straighter with (Y/N)’s help. “Thank you for rescuing us.” She nodded again but remained silent as she worked. “You were right: Mandalore is not cursed.”
“Was I?” Bo-Katan asked jadedly. “Look around, there’s nothing left. A great society is now a memory. I once ruled here for a brief time…now, it’s destroyed.” She sighed and stood, handing one cup of soup to (Y/N) and another to Din. “Nothing to cling to but ashes.”
(Y/N) drank her soup and smiled to herself when warmth returned to her limbs, but Din’s helmeted head tilted to the side in confusion as he studied the cup in his hand. “What is this?”
“You’ve never eaten pog soup?”
“…No.”
Bo-Katan chuckled and turned to pack her rations away while Din lifted his helmet up to take a drink; when he had his fill, he gave the rest to Grogu, who downed the soup in record time. “Can you appreciate the irony? Any Mandalorian worth their armor was raised on this since they were his size.” Din slowly got to his feet and (Y/N) followed, picking the child up and placing him in his pram while Din retrieved his weapons. “You should rest. I’ll get you all back to my ship soon enough.”
“I’m not going with you.”
The Nite Owl frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I must continue to the Mines of Mandalore so that I may be redeemed.”
“We must continue,” (Y/N) corrected and met the visor of his helmet with a firm stare. “We’re not letting you go back down there by yourself.”
Din sighed but nodded in agreement as an exasperated Bo-Katan rolled her eyes. “I honestly think it’s adorable that you actually believe these children’s stories, but there is nothing magic about the waters.”
“Without the Creed, what are we? What do we stand for?” The Mandalorian demanded, reattaching his jetpack while (Y/N) patted Grogu’s wrinkled head. “Our people are scattered like stars in the galaxy; the Creed is how we survived. You rescued my wife and myself and I’ll always be in your debt, but I can’t – we can’t – go with you until I fulfill my obligation.”
Bo-Katan took a deep breath. “I will take you.”
(Y/N) arched a brow in surprise. “To the Living Waters?”
“Yes. You’ll never find them on your own…not in all this wreckage.”
Din exchanged a brief look with (Y/N) before giving the Nite Owl a nod. “Thank you.”
She smiled humorlessly. “Don’t thank me until you see them.”
They stomped out the fire and once Din scooped (Y/N) into his arms, they stepped off the cliff and flew down to the bottom of the chasm. Hopefully we won’t stumble across any more surprises, she thought to herself as she drew her blaster and walked between the two Mandalorians down a pathway.
“It’s hard to believe that this all was once filled with our kind…”
“It wasn’t that long ago,” Bo-Katan replied, her gloved fingers tightening around the helmet she carried against her hip. “You’d never know it, looking at all this destruction.”
(Y/N) nodded in agreement. “It looks like it’s been centuries. While I was in the Rebellion, I saw many of the cities and planets destroyed by the Empire, but none of them looked quite like this.”
“The Empire set out to punish us Mandalorians, to wipe away our memory.”
With her heart filling with sympathy for the Nite Owl walking beside her, (Y/N) quietly remarked, “It must pain you to see it like this after witnessing its beauty.”
Bo-Katan spared her a brief glance. “What pains me is seeing our own kind fight one another time and time again. Killing each other for reasons too confusion to explain. It made us weak; we had no hope to resist being smashed by the fist of the Empire.” Din shifted uncomfortably, no doubt reminded that the Children of the Watch had broken away first and were not there in Mandalore’s time of need, and (Y/N) gave his hand a comforting squeeze as Bo-Katan pointed at a crevice in the rock ahead. “There. The entrance to the Mines of Mandalore.”
They followed the Nite Owl into the crevice and after (Y/N)’s eyes adjusted when she tossed a hovering light sphere into the air above them, she glanced around the space in interest. “This area looks much older.”
“The mines have been here for thousands of years,” Bo-Katan replied. “The Living Waters are in the chambers below.”
It was then that Din finally spoke up. “Have you been there?”
“Yes, when I was a child.”
“Really?”
A small smile began to play across Bo-Katan’s face. “I was part of the royal family. I took the Creed and was showered with gifts, but the rituals were all just theatre for our subjects. They loved watching the princess recite the Mandalorian tenets as her father looked on proudly.” She snorted in amusement. “Such a heartwarming spectacle.”
“Maybe he was proud,” Din speculated, and (Y/N) knew it was more for Bo-Katan’s sake than his own.
“I know he was. I didn’t embarrass him in front of everyone.”
The tunnel was silent for a moment before Din spoke again. “Your father sounds like an interesting man. I would’ve liked to have known him.”
“He was a great man.” Bo-Katan swallowed thickly and kept her gaze trained ahead. “He died defending Mandalore.”
Din stopped in his tracks, leading (Y/N) and the Nite Owl to stop walking and Grogu’s pram to hover in the air nearby, and he bowed his head in respect. “This is the Way.”
They continued down the tunnel, the silence amongst their small group accompanied only by the steady dripping of water. As they walked, (Y/N) thought about Bo-Katan’s glowing praise of her father and felt a familiar pang in her chest; she’d never known her own father – not even his name – and all her mother told her was that it was because of his choice that he wasn’t in their lives. When she was a child, she often wondered what her father was like and grew envious of the other children in her town who had two parents, and when she was a teenager and already suffered her mother’s untimely death, that childlike curiosity soured and turned to anger. Now that she was grown, the fiery anger was gone and had been replaced by an empty feeling, not quite sadness but a little like grief. Grief for the little girl who was forced to fend for herself after the only person in the galaxy who loved her passed away, grief for the young woman who spent years alone with only her pain and fury for company, and grief for the woman who would never have the chance to introduce her honorable husband and adoptive son to a father filled with pride for his daughter.
“Alor’ad? Everything okay?”
(Y/N) blinked and gave Din a brief smile. “Yep, just lost in thought.”
The Mandalorian’s gloved hand tightened around hers, keeping her grounded in the present and focused on the end of tunnel as it widened to reveal a massive chamber filled with inky-black water that was smooth as glass. “Here you go: The Living Waters. I want you two to get the full tour.” Bo-Katan chuckled and walked over to a tarnished plaque on the wall. “‘These mines date back to the age of the first Mandalore. According to ancient folklore, the mines were once a Mythosaur lair; Mandalore the Great is said to have tamed the mythical beast. It is from these legends that the skull signet was adopted and became the symbol of our planet.’”
While Bo-Katan teasingly read from the plaque, Din and (Y/N) stood by the steps that led down into the waters; she looked over at her husband and although she couldn’t see his face, she could tell from the way he stared out at the waters that he was overcome with emotion. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”
Din silently nodded and went about removing his cowl, weapons and jetpack, setting them down on the stone floor and turning back to (Y/N); he leaned down and gave her a lingering Keldabe Kiss before slowly descending the steps into the waters. “I swear on my name and the names of the Ancestors…” (Y/N) anxiously bit her lip and both Bo-Katan and Grogu moved closer as the water quickly covered Din’s boots. “That I shall walk the Way of the Mand’alor…” The water soon encased his torso. “And the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.”
Just as Din finished reciting the Mandalorian Creed and (Y/N)’s shoulders relaxed, he dropped down into the waters and entirely disappeared from view. “Din!” Bo-Katan quickly put her helmet on and jumped into the waters after him while Grogu wailed in alarm. “It’s okay, little guy, your dad’s gonna be okay…” She scooped the child into her arms and held him close, worry filling her heart as she stared down at the inky-black waters that were meant to redeem her husband, not condemn him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mando’a Translations:
Ner cyar’ika alor’ad-My darling captain
Alor’ad-Captain
Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad-I love you, my darling captain
Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika riduur-I love you, my darling husband
A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! Oh, and I’ve created a Spotify playlist of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars, so if you’re interested in checking it out the link is down below!
Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd
Chapter Thirty-Four
Taking Care of Business Masterlist
Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95 @welcometothepedroverse @sarahjkl82-blog @elinedjarin @itsnottilly @crowleysqueenofhell @goldielocks2004 @wondergal2001 @groovy-lady @impala1967666 @fluffy-canada-pancakes @icee228
#taking care of business#din djarin x reader#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin#the mandalorian#grogu#the child#baby yoda#peli motto#r5d4#bo katan kryze#star wars#din djarin x f!reader
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Chyler allowing herself to make a mistake in front of Tom from the vulnerability prompts? I feel like she's a big time perfectionist.
Also just gonna throw this out there, but "begging them to stay" sounds like it has great potential for some angsty injury feels with a Spartan pairing like John/Cortana or Fred/Kelly.
From these prompts.
Well this took me forever and ever to finish. And that was just the first prompt.
I had a more serious response for this, but I wanted to write something for this mini-AU ❤️
xxxxxx
“Tom? You—hold on.”
Tom sat with a bemused smile as the video feed in front of him shook and jumped to the soundtrack of a small child’s squawking. He’d finally managed to secure a real-time video call to his family on Luna, and for the first time in months he could watch the chaos unfold without a time delay.
“OK.” Chyler set her device on the counter. “You there?” She leaned down into the shot.
“I am.” Tom raised the volume on his headset and made sure the noise canceling function was on. Even so, it was hard to block out the constant drone of Flying Fortress’s engines and the other conversations going on around him in the room colloquially dubbed “the phone booth.” “Should I ask how things are going on the home front?”
“It’s—Kate! What is that? Oh, just Teddy. OK. Yeah, we’re good.” Chyler answered.
“Sounds it,” Tom observed dryly.
“Kate! Honey!” Chyler picked up the tablet and started walking across the tiny apartment. “Want to say hi to Dada?”
The camera display flipped around and Tom saw his daughter sitting on the floor playing with a brown teddy bear. “Princess Kate!” He greeted.
“It’s Dada!” Chyler said.
“Dada!” The two-and-a-half-year-old dropped the toy crawled toward the screen. Her dark curls flopped over her eyes.
Tom ducked his face out of view. “Now, where’s that adorable Kate?” He sat up and feigned surprise. “Kate!” He placed his hand in front of the camera. “No Kate!” He moved his hand away. “Kate!” He covered the lens again. “No Kate!”
The little girl giggled and squealed at the familiar game. Well, familiar to Tom. He wondered if Kate even remembered the last time they’d played.
She’s so much bigger than she was then.
She looks so much like her mom.
“You’re not causing any trouble for Mumma, are you?” Tom asked, trying to take his mind off the gnawing sensation in his chest.
“Not for me, but the teachers at Launch Pad tell me she’s a little escape artist,” Chyler reported as Kate reached out to the screen. “You know I went to pick her up yesterday and found her running up and down the hall?”
Tom’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“She must have slipped out while they were changing shifts,” Chyler jerked the tablet away. “Kate, stop.”
“I hope you had words with them.” Tom frowned.
“Tom, she’s fine.” The feed jumped as Chyler stood. “They have those tags for a reason. If she’d managed to get out of the building somehow it would have tripped the alarm.”
“Why doesn’t that make me feel better?” Tom sighed.
“Because you’re paranoid.”
Tom scowled. “Daddy instinct, all right?”
Kate stood up and batted the display again.
“Kate, don’t—don’t hit the End button!” Chyler jerked the tablet away.
“Dada!” Kate called.
“Hi, baby,” Tom chuckled as Chyler held the screen out of Kate’s reach. “Dada loves you.”
“Say ‘I love you’?” Chyler prompted.
“Ah ya yoo!” Kate responded, her tiny arms wrapping around her mother’s legs.
“Oh, I love you, Katie Bug.” Tom bit his tongue. He missed her so much. “Dada’s gonna see you next week, OK?”
“I can’t wait for you to get back,” Chyler said wearily.
“I can’t wait to be back.” Tom watched Kate toddle back to her toys. “Kate probably thinks her dad lives in a computer screen.”
“She does not,” Chyler assured.
“And I’m starting to get claustrophobic in this tin can,” Tom added. “I’m ready to breathe air that isn’t recycled. And not have metal dust all over me. And see a color besides gray.”
“The last couple weeks is always the worst.” Chyler turned the camera to face herself and sat on the couch. “We’ve both been down this road.”
“I know, I know.” Tom rested his chin on his hand and took in his wife’s face. “I ever tell you you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen?”
“That’s your deployment goggles talking,” Chyler said with a poorly concealed smile.
“Learn to take a compliment, hon.”
“I—oh!” A crash interrupted whatever Chyler was going to say.
“Chyler?!” Tom sat up straighter in alarm as the tablet clattered to the floor.
“Shit!” Chyler exclaimed. “Kate!”
“Chyler!” Tom called loudly enough to draw some glances from the phone booth’s other occupants.
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” Chyler made a grunt of frustration. “You didn’t hear that, Kate.” Chyler picked up the tablet and pushed her hair off her face. “She knocked over that toy kitchen from your mum. I was afraid—”
“Shit!”
Tom’s jaw dropped. Chyler’s gaze shifted past the tablet.
“Shit!” Kate repeated the word with a toddler’s pride.
“Kate, remember, you didn’t hear Mumma say that,” Chyler said without looking at her husband.
Tom’s “Looks like she did” rebuttal got lost in laughter.
“Tom, stop laughing,” Chyler ordered.
Tom just shook his head. He was surely drawing even more attention to himself now.
“This isn’t funny,” Chyler continued.
“Yes, it is,” Tom managed to wheeze.
“Shit!” Kate hollered again.
“Kate, stop it,” Chyler admonished uselessly.
“Don’t give an order—” Tom had to stop and gather himself. “Don’t give an order you know won’t be obeyed.”
“What’s up with Lasky?” Tom heard someone ask behind him.
Tom wiped his eyes. “And you were always afraid she’d hear it from me.”
Chyler glared into the camera. “You’d better not tell any of your buddies about this.”
“There’s—” Tom looked around the room. “Eight other people in here! It’s too late!”
“You know what? You can stay in that tin can,” Chyler said. “And I hope you choke on metal dust.”
If he choked on metal dust now, at least he’d go happy. “Love you!” Tom grinned and waved at his bride.
Chyler ended the call, but not before Kate got the last four-letter word.
xxxxxx
Flying Fortress is a reference to the B-17. I thought it was a good name for a carrier.
The daycare story is based on Mr finding Bum Bum escaped from his Sunday School room one day.
#halo#married with a supercarrier au#Kate lasky#thomas lasky x chyler silva#halo fanfic by atbnl#Fanfic by atbnl
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Species in the Respawn series
A collection of write-ups about the different kinds of people in the Respawn series from the Bunkshelf lore wiki. I need to go through and expand these in the future, but they work as synopses.
Humans
Humans are amongst the oldest and most common of the sapient creatures, made to fill the world and understand it. Their culture changes and diverges so violently, often by conflict, that they loose their grasp on their history. In the modern age, humans are known to be somewhat reclusive.
Humans are one of the few people capable of magic. While most humans will never manifest the ability, those who show promise can train as mages. Unlike most other magic-capable species, humans aren't limited to only one or two pools of magic.
Fae Folk
The Fae Folk, though they just call themselves the aes (from Aes sídhe), and are colloquially just called the Folk by others. A family of species with great magical power. Typically manifesting as humanoids of adult proportions but shorter, often with insectoid wings though sometimes without, little is known about them. They are ancient, as old as the first humans, loathe change (were friends with the earliest humans) and live apart from the other species in and around woodlands, with a particular fondness of hawthorn trees. They are highly spiritual, with a strong connection with the dead. Among their magical abilities are their penchant for unpleasant debuffs, though they can't do damage directly and are poorly built for physical conflict.
Aes sídhe, pronounced eyz-shee. When shortened to aes it is sometimes pronounced as ieez, though this can be considered incorrect. See this pronunciation key for help.
Dragons
Solitary, territorial creatures, enamoured by shiny things. Dragons come in many forms, including six-limbed fire-breathing dragons and the more rare serpentine longer dragons. One of the few sapient creatures with no qualms about eating other sapients. Very long-lived, and as a result hibernate for long stretches of time. Intelligent, but mainly wise from age, they are mostly ignorant of common society, and mostly don't care; dragons are typically emotion-driven and unsceptical. There are a few subspecies of Lesser Dragons such as the wyverns, but the oldest of the Great Dragon races are nearing extinction. Dragons are sometimes capable of magic, though if a dragon is proficient they generally can only control only one school of magic.
Felis
They are functionally similar to the concept of nekos; a felis is humanoid in shape, albeit with the addition of cat features, such as ears, eyes and a tail, and noticeably sharper canine teeth. They are on average shorter in stature that humans, possessing comparatively greater agility and reflexes, at a cost of lesser endurance and strength. Felis adventurers make for competent rogues.
'Felis' is a more formal name for the species. Typically they refer to themselves simply as 'cats', instead referring to the smaller, non-humanoid felines as 'house cats' or 'domestic cats' to distinguish. They generally don't have a good relationship with lycans.
As they were not amongst the earliest of species the exist on the Place, the felis people arose later, though not be speciation. They are a comparatively younger species, only having existed for the past millennia. They were created by one of the Developers without the knowledge of the others Devs. Originally born as a human, the same Dev then took the form of a felis.
Felis have two ears.
Qoatla
Related to the humans and ediacrids. Qoatla are a species of sapient people that exists on the Plane, the world of the Respawn series. Rhamphor, one of the main characters in the series, is a qoatla. Qoatla are humanoid, with great avian wings, and retractable blades within the forearms. With large enough backpacks they can often pass as human, though many qoatla have unusual eye colours. They don’t mingle in human societies as often as others like the felis.
Golems / Mechanoids
Creatures made of animate clay, rock, metal or other material, with a core made partially of activated argentiferous galena. They were created by the Developers originally to perform simple tasks. A knowledgeable enough being could animate their own golem using spells (changes a data value to assign an AI to the Entity if it matches the criteria). The earliest golems were simple turtles, but over time their intelligence has increased collectively to the degree that all newer-constructed golems have become self-aware. This is an oversight by the Devs, but out of compassion for this accidental species, this has not been fixed. Golems don't have a standard form due to being built rather than born and so can take many forms, but a heart and a mind are necessary, requiring galena.
Ediacrids
Bipedal reptilliomorphs with a carnivore’s teeth and sharp claws, though despite their appearance they are relatively civilised. Their scales can be olive green, a stony brown or a fired clay-red, as well as some other variations. They typically wear loose-fitting clothes to account for their crocodilian tails, and sleeveless shirts due to the feathers that grow along their outer arms along the elbow. Feathers less commonly grow along the back of the neck. On the brow is a coloured crest.
Ediacrids are amongst the oldest races, though were designed by the Developers rather than the Creator and are not as old as the humans, dragons and Fae Folk. Typically reasonably friendly if not too outgoing with regards to other races, ediacrids are stigmatised somewhat by the other races due to their monstrous appearance, and so mostly keep to themselves. Almost exclusively carnivorous, though they can digest most food types like omnivores. They tend not to use melee weapons, as they don't really need them, but do sometimes use bows and crossbows. Insensitively referred to as lizards.
Lycans
Similar to felis, they are predominantly humanoid with wolf ears and tails, with greater strength than the average human. Unlike felis, they are also able to change forms between mostly-human and fully wolf. As a result of the dual-life, lycans typically live amongst themselves away from the other races in groups away from society. Lycans are not like tales of werewolves; the trait is not transferred by bite, it is inherent. The transformation ability can be performed at will, but each switch becomes substantially more trying when attempted in quick succession, to a limit of two or three times per day. Moonlight reduces this cooldown period, and during full moon the cooldown is only a few minutes. Lycans have the ability to get along with just about any other people, but won't necessarily. Their relationship with felis is very mixed. Lycans are an older species, steeped in folklore due to their rarity and little-known history.
Selkies
Aquatic humanoid mammals with more flexible limbs due to slightly thinner bones, webbed digits, and somewhat longer flipper-like feet. They are very resistant to cold, and are natural swimmers. They can’t breathe underwater, despite common belief. Instead they have positively charged oxygen-binding proteins, called myoglobin, in their muscles. This essentially allows they to carry more oxygen for longer, allowing for dives of up to two or three hours. They shift blood flow away from extremities and toward the brain and organs to prioritise oxygen during a dive. However, the extra myoglobin can lead to selkies being generally more absent-minded than with humans of similar age, as well as a slightly greater rate of developing blood sugar problems. They can walk bipedally, but due to their oddly-shaped feet they can be a little ungainly, and so greatly prefer bodies of water for travel, or otherwise can use custom geta-style sandals with ankle straps for walking. Selkies have a penchant for electric and ice magic.
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