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saintobio · 2 months

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LONG LIVE THE VILLAINESS !

amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.

♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader

♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au

♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), misogyny, violence, war, rebellion, suggestive, smut, gore, double life, explicit language, more to be added

♱ notes. this fic draws heavy inspirations from the webnovel ‘sister, i am the queen in this life’ and manhwa of the same name. it’s basically a fanfic of that series bc i am obsessed with it :’D

♱ status. on-going (slow updates)

♱ THIS SERIES WILL SERVE AS THE THE SECOND TIMELINE -> READ HERE FOR THE FIRST TIMELINE (ORIGINAL STORY) ♱

PROLOGUE.

ACT I. THE LADY

ACT II. THE CROWN PRINCE

ACT III. THE KNIGHT

ACT IV. THE STAR CROSSED LOVERS

ACT V. THE BLESSED

ACT VI. THE SIN

ACT VII. THE REVELATION

ACT VIII. THE ENEMY

ACT IX. THE LOVER

ACT X. THE EMPRESS

EPILOGUE.

PROLOGUE

Like plunging beneath the surface of water and then, abruptly, breaking through to the air above—your body jolted as if awakening in a new world altogether. You drew in a long breath, your eyes fluttering open to reveal the ceiling, both familiar yet unfamiliar in its greeting. Swiftly, you surveyed your surroundings, noting with growing recognition the confines of your old room within the De Roma estate. The estate!

You were not in the palace of Caelum, but in the estate of House De Roma. A surge of realization flooded through you as you dashed towards the nearest mirror, confronting your reflection with wide, startled eyes.

No... could it be... that you have returned to your body, ten years prior?!

In the mirror, the reflection staring back at you was not that of the notorious wife of the tyrant Emperor Satoru, but of a 20-year-old maiden, the eldest daughter of Duke de Roma, with fuller cheeks and a more youthful appearance. You could not shake the feeling of disbelief, wondering if this was all just a dream, so you reached out to touch your arms and felt the flesh beneath your fingers, trying to convince yourself that this was an unexpected reality.

Oh, you were back. You found yourself returned to your former self, a decade younger, but now armed with the knowledge of your past life's actions and their consequences. Alongside this newfound understanding, the gift of clairvoyance had also been bestowed upon you.

And for what? Why had the heavens above returned you to your body? Was it for revenge, a second chance, or perhaps punishment?

Suddenly, a loud, deafening sound pierced your ears, and a blinding white light enveloped your vision. Your body became as still as a statue, and it felt as though your soul was transported to a fourth dimension where divine intervention seemed a lot more plausible to exist.

As your soul hovered in the liminal space between life and death, you found yourself standing before a figure cloaked in billowing robes, her presence commanding and her gaze piercing. This figure was Fortuna, the ancient Caelan goddess of fortune and fate, her visage austere and unforgiving.

“Are you aware of the sins that stain your soul?”

“Have you felt the weight of your transgressions, the consequences of your actions that have wrought suffering upon your people and brought ruin to your empire?”

Her voice echoed through the realm with the divine judgment that weighed upon your conscience, while her gaze penetrated to the core of your being and demanded honesty and accountability in the face of your past misdeeds.

“Will you atone for your sins?”

“Will you seize this opportunity for redemption, or will you squander it in self-pity and remorse?”

As you stood in the presence of the ancient goddess, grappling with the heaviness of your sins and the daunting task ahead, a brilliant light had all of a sudden illuminated the space around you. From the heart of this radiant glow emerged the figure of Archangel Raphael, his presence heralded by a chorus of angelical voices and the stirring of celestial winds.

Clad in robes that seemed to shimmer with the intensity of celestial light, Archangel Raphael's presence commanded attention, his wings unfurled behind him in a display of resolute authority. If Goddess Fortuna was intimidating, the archangel was fearsome all the more. His gaze, intense and penetrating, swept over you with a gravity that left no room for evasion or deceit.

“Empress of Caelum,” he spoke, his tone firm and unyielding, and his voice carrying a billion years of heavenly existence, “You stand accused of grievous sins, crimes that have shaken the very foundations of your empire and brought suffering upon your people.”

There was no trace of softness in Archangel Raphael's demeanor, no room for mercy in the face of wrongdoing. His presence was a testament to the uncompromising nature of divine justice, his strictness a reflection of the solemn duty entrusted to him as an Archangel of the Almighty. This, no doubt, was the face of a true and formidable executor of justice.

And you, the subject, had angered the divine beings that guarded the Caelan Empire, so much so that God himself sent the goddess of the land and one of his archangels to mitigate your rightful punishment.

“By the decree of the Almighty, you are granted a second chance to amend your sins and redeem your soul. You shall return to the mortal realm, to live your life anew and correct the sins that have stained your soul.”

“Should you fail to rectify your past transgressions, should you stray from the path of righteousness and succumb once more to the temptations of darkness, know that the consequences shall be severe and eternal.”

“For those who squander the gift of divine mercy shall be cast into the deepest depths of hell, where they shall endure a punishment of unending torment and suffering.”

In the presence of Archangel Raphael and Goddess Fortuna’s equally stern gazes, you were keenly aware of the magnitude of your transgressions and the severity of the judgment that awaited you. But even as you trembled beneath the weight of their scrutiny, you knew that their presence also offered you the opportunity for redemption, with your only task to prove yourself worthy of divine mercy.

Indeed, it was by your very hands that hundreds and thousands of Christian souls shed their blood. Innocent lives, both young and old, were cruelly taken at your command. The citizens of Caelum who fell sick from the spread of the plague. The esteemed Caelan advisors of your husband’s primogenitors, skinned alive and speared in pikes by the Tiber River. The wrongly accused maid who suffered the indignity of serving your husband, paraded unclothed through the streets and subjected to the brutality of the pear of anguish. The gallant and dignified knight, tortured mentally and physically in the atrocious dungeon. Now, you find yourself thrust back into the horrors of your former life ten years hence. A life of a noble lady who ought not to be blinded by her destructive love for the empire’s crown prince.

Yet, could you truly navigate this life without ascending to the position as his empress?

As you tried to commune with the divine beings afore you, a haze in your vision transported you away from the heavenly space, realizing that you were already drawn back into the reality of your chamber, inhabiting the youthful frame of a twenty-year-old daughter of a duke. You found yourself too astonished to move, too shaken to speak, and too afraid to take any action in this new lease of life blessed upon you. At that very moment, your state of reverie was disrupted at the arrival of your maid, who entered your chamber in a humble servant garb.

Milena. The maid whose life was cut short by your hand in your past existence due to petty thievery. “My lady,” she spoke with a hint of respect and urgency, unaware of the ill-fate you had given her in your past life, “A visitor has arrived at the gates and requests an audience with you. Shall I show them in?”

Too soon? Need it truly be so soon to engage with the people from your past life immediately after awakening to your old, yet younger body? Gazing upon your maid through the mirror, you asked, “Who is that intruder you speak of?”

She bowed her head, her stance shifting into one of apologetic deference. The way she firmly stood by your door was a message to you that the intruder was not someone you could easily reject the presence of.

“The visitor is His Highness, Crown Prince Satoru.”

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

#series: lltv #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk royal au #slow updates bc sy is prio #i will not write this in archaic english anymore ITS HARD AF #but i had to put this out there so i can remind myself to write it *sobs*#might just write this on the side

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dolcettamagica · 1 month

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𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬, 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

virgin!sukuna x virgin!reader, modern delinquent au

request: can you write modern au!sukuna and fem reader taking each others virginity with a established relationship tags: fluff, fingering, penetration, petnames (princess, baby, babygirl), sukuna is a delinquent; @mangiswig notes: minors dni, sukuna is lowkey ooc wc: 2.0k

Despite spending a significant portion of his formative years behind bars, the weight of consequence failed to curb the rebellious spirit of Sukuna. Emerging from the confines of incarceration with a hardened demeanor and a penchant for defiance, he returned to the streets that had once ensnared him with a renewed sense of determination. To Sukuna, the rules of society were nothing more than shackles, constraining him from the freedom he craved and the life he believed he deserved.

Fuelled by a potent cocktail of resentment and bravado, Sukuna navigated the urban landscape with the swagger of someone who had stared into the abyss and refused to blink. From petty theft to brazen acts of vandalism, he left a trail of chaos in his wake, a testament to the indelible mark of his troubled past. For Sukuna, the cycle of delinquency was a familiar refrain, a symphony of defiance that echoed through the corridors of his consciousness, a reminder of the streets that had shaped him and the choices that had defined him.

Yet Sukuna found an unexpected beacon of light in the form of you, a college student whose innocence and sweetness stood in stark contrast to his own turbulent world. Your love was a fragile bloom in the midst of concrete, delicate yet resilient, defying the odds with each passing day. Drawn to your gentle spirit and unwavering kindness,Sukuna found himself navigating unfamiliar territory, his rough edges softened by the warmth of your affection.

For almost a year now, you have been the anchor in Sukuna's stormy sea, a steady presence amidst the chaos of his life. With your unwavering belief in his capacity for change and your steadfast support, you became his guiding star, illuminating the darkest corners of his soul with the light of your love. Despite the whispers of doubt that lingered in the recesses of his mind, Sukuna couldn't deny the profound impact you had on his life, your presence a balm to his weary heart.

Your love for Sukuna knew no bounds, transcending the boundaries of societal norms and expectations. Despite the whispers of caution that echoed through the halls of your mind, you refused to turn away from the tumultuous storm that raged within him. To you, Sukuna was more than just the sum of his mistakes; he was a complex tapestry of darkness and light, a flawed masterpiece in need of redemption.

While others cowered in fear at the mere mention of his name, you stood unwavering by his side, your love a shield against the slings and arrows of judgment. You understood the depths of his anger, the ferocity of his defiance, yet you chose to love him all the same. For you, love was not about changing someone into who they should be, but rather embracing them for who they were, scars and all.

The decision weighed heavily on your heart, a tender offering you longed to bestow upon Sukuna, a symbol of your unwavering commitment to your love. With trembling hands and a courage born of devotion, you found yourself standing before him, your heart laid bare in the flickering light of your shared intimacy. “I want you to take my virginity tonight, Sukuna. I’m yours, fully.”

As your words pierced the air, a surge of conflicting emotions washed over Sukuna. His heart quickened with excitement, the prospect of possessing you in such an intimate way igniting a primal fire within him. Yet, beneath the surface, a flicker of nervousness danced in the depths of his eyes, betraying the weight of responsibility he felt in this moment. There was something he never told you. Sukuna, the known and feared criminal, was a virgin himself. He didn’t have the chance to lose it since most of his teen years were spent in jail and he met you shortly after his release. Yet, Sukuna was sure that he would manage to not have to confess to his virginity.

Yet his dominant nature surged forth, a primal instinct asserting its dominance over his senses. With a predatory gleam in his eyes, Sukunas demeanor shifted, his posture becoming more assertive, more commanding. He saw this as an opportunity to claim you, to mark you as his own in the most intimate way possible. “Get on the bed, baby”, and you followed his command.

With a magnetic pull, Sukuna led you to his bed, your eyes locked in a heated exchange of desire and anticipation. The air was charged with electricity, every touch igniting a wildfire of longing between you. As you sank into the soft embrace of the mattress, a primal hunger consumed you, driving you to explore each other with an urgency born of passion.

With a possessive grip, Sukuna claimed your lips in a searing kiss, his dominance asserting itself with every fervent movement. His hands traced the curves of your body with a possessive intensity, his touch igniting a feverish need within you. You yielded to him willingly, your own desire mingling with his in a potent cocktail of longing and surrender.

“You’re so pretty, baby. I love you so much.”

Your clothes became mere obstacles, discarded in a frenzy of desire as you bared yourselves to each other without reservation. With each caress, each whispered promise, you delved deeper into the depths of your desire, your bodies becoming one in a dance of carnal pleasure and primal need.

“You belong to me, baby. All of you. Only to me. I’ll be your first and your last.”

As your passion reached its zenith, you lost yourselves in each other, your moans of ecstasy filling the air as you surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm of your desire. In that moment, on Sukuna's bed, you were consumed by the flames of your passion, your love, a blazing inferno that burned brighter with every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise of forever.

With a possessive hunger burning in his eyes, Sukuna trailed his fingers along your trembling form, tracing the contours of your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. As he settled between your parted thighs, he felt your pulse quicken beneath his touch, your breath hitching in anticipation of the ecstasy to come.

“You’re already soaked, princess. Been waiting for this, huh?”

With a predatory grace, he teased you with feather-light caresses, his fingers dancing over your skin in a tantalizing rhythm. Your soft gasps filled the room as he explored your most intimate depths, his touch sending shivers of pleasure cascading through your body.

With each stroke, he felt you surrendering to him, your barriers crumbling in the face of his relentless desire. He relished in the power he held over you, reveling in the way you arched into his touch, your cries of pleasure music to his ears, the way your wet pussy clenched and pulsated around his slender fingers. With a primal hunger driving him forward, Sukuna delved deeper into you, his fingers becoming an extension of his own desire as he brought you to the brink of ecstasy again and again.

“Don’t cum yet, babygirl. You wanted something else inside you, remember? Do you still want it?”

“Y–yes…ahh…f–fuck, yes, please, Sukuna.”

As Sukuna's touch grew bolder, you surrendered completely to the sensations coursing through your body. With each deliberate stroke of his fingers, you melted further into submission, your moans filling the air as you abandoned yourself to the overwhelming pleasure he bestowed upon you.

Your body quivered with every skilled movement, each sensation amplified by the electric tension that crackled between you. Your breath hitched with every caress, your heart racing as you surrendered to the blissful torment of his dominance.

With a possessive hunger burning in his eyes, Sukuna reveled in the sight of you laid bare before him, your submissive surrender stoking the flames of his desire to new heights. Your moans of pure lust were like a siren's song, drawing him deeper into the abyss of his own primal urges.

Driven by an insatiable hunger, Sukuna's touch grew more demanding, more possessive, his own arousal building with each intoxicating sound that escaped your lips. With each whimper of pleasure, he felt the intoxicating rush of power surging through his veins, his dominance asserting itself with an almost feral intensity.

“I think you’re ready, baby.”

Sukuna positioned himself above you, your submissive form trembling with anticipation beneath him. With a possessive grip, he guided himself to your entrance, the throbbing heat of his arousal pressing against your quivering flesh. As he poised himself at the threshold of your innocence, a fierce determination coursed through him, driving him forward with an urgency born of primal desire. With a forceful thrust, he pushed himself inside your pussy, the sensation of your tight warmth enveloping him like a velvet vice.

“Oh– Fuck…fuck, it’s tight. You feel so fucking good, baby.”

You gasped at the intrusion, your body tensing with a mixture of pleasure and pain. With each powerful thrust, Sukuna claimed you as his own, his dominant nature asserting itself with every primal movement. As you moved together in a primal dance of passion and possession, Sukuna felt a surge of ecstasy and lust coursing through him. You felt so good stretching around him, he could feel your heartbeat through your wet, tight cunt.

As your bodies intertwined in the fervor of your passion, Sukuna's arousal reached a crescendo, the intensity of the moment threatening to overwhelm him entirely. With each hard, deep thrust, he felt himself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, his primal instincts driving him ever closer to the brink. He pounded into you like a wild animal, feeling the undying urge to not only claim your soul as his but also your body.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck no.”

But then, in a sudden and unexpected rush, Sukuna's control slipped away, his body betraying him in the most primal of ways. With a gasp of disbelief, he felt his release wash over him, his climax crashing over him with a force that left him trembling in its wake.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Sukuna grappled with the intensity of his own pleasure, his body pulsing with the aftershocks of his release. And as he collapsed against you, his breath coming in ragged gasps, he realized with a sinking feeling that he had cum far sooner than he had anticipated.

“…’kuna?”, your eyes shot wide, feeling him release his hot cum inside you. Usually it takes you far longer to get him to finish with your mouth.

In the hazy aftermath of their passion, Sukuna's heart raced with a mixture of embarrassment and shame, his mind reeling with the realization that he had revealed his virginity in the most humiliating of ways. And as he looked into your eyes, he saw the confusion and concern reflected in your gaze, knowing that he would have to find a way to explain himself, even as his own insecurities threatened to consume him. Slowly he pulled out and grabbed the box of tissues next to his bed to clean you up.

With a heavy heart, he knew that he couldn't keep his secret any longer, not from you, not from the woman he loved more than life itself.

Summoning every ounce of courage he possessed, Sukuna steeled himself for the confession that weighed heavily upon his soul. With slightly trembling hands and a voice thick with emotion, he reached out to you, his eyes searching yours for understanding and acceptance.

"Baby," he began, his words coming out in a rush as he struggled to find the right ones. "I need to tell you something...something I should have told you before."

As he spoke, Sukuna felt the weight of his secret lifting from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of vulnerability unlike anything he had ever known. With each word, he bared his soul to you, revealing the truth of his inexperience, his virginity laid bare for you to see.

To his surprise, your reaction was not one of judgment or scorn, but of compassion and understanding. With a gentle touch, you reached out to him, your eyes filled with love and acceptance.

"Sukuna," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "It doesn't matter to me. What matters is us, and the love we share. I’m yours and you’re mine."

#𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sukuna #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna jjk #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #request

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oblonger · 13 days

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Chapter 3 of TPiaG: Body Swap Au

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@sincerely-sofie This time it's Twig's POV :)

Twig is on her nightly stroll.

(Twig was silently telling Kip that she had his back, and that no matter what happened, she would be there for him.)

Funny how poorly that aged.

(As soon as she took a step past the entrance to Dark Crater, an intense feeling of vertigo and sleepiness fell onto her, and she feel backwards. Unable to resist the call to sleep.

And then she woke up, in a room she'd never seen before. Surrounded by magma. She reached her hand to hold her head, but she felt incredibly light. Like picking up a cup that you expected to be full of water, but was empty.

Then she saw that her hand wasn't hers anymore.

It was Darkrai's.

A panic attack instantly took hold of her. Several minutes of flailing about, trying to get this extremely light body under control ensued.

She didn't know why. But now she was in Darkrai's body.

It was overwhelming. The feeling of power that surged through her made her feel sick. She could 'feel' where Cresselia was at all times...

Cresselia!

She should be able to help.

It took a long time, but Twig managed to find her way to the hallway that Cresselia was near. It was really hard. Running into walls and whatnot. She had to grapple onto several walls and stalagmites to keep herself from floating away like gravity had been turned off.

And then...)

Twig clenched her hand.

She trusted her with her life. Heck, she trusted Twig with her life.

Twig couldn't understand what Kip saw in Darkrai. She agreed with Cresselia. He wasn't capable of redemption, nor deserving of mercy.

But the fact that Cresselia had said that to Kip, in a blatant attempt at getting to kill Darkrai!?

It made Twig livid.

She didn't want to take Darkrai home with her, but she did anyway. Out of spite.

She hated even looking at him. That flame made her heart skip a beat for a reason she didn't know.

She hated looking at herself. A perfect reflection of the person who tormented her and her friends for several years.

And now she was him.

Twig looked down at the pendant she wore. The lunar feather stuffed inside.

She so badly wanted to rip it off and burn it.

But she couldn't.

It was a constant reminder that her very existence brought harm to people around her.

Not that she had any trouble remembering when her body was that of the most evil person ever.

Twig lifted her eyes off the ground. The moonlight giving the forest trail a gentle illumination.

It was pretty much the only thing she could do now. Walks in the forest after night fell. If anyone from treasure Town found her, they would probably try to kill her. or worse, they would think that Kip had been mind controlled or something and kill him.

She couldn't care less if Darkrai died, but even if she knew what Cresselia had said was a lie, she still feared that there was a kernel of truth hidden in there somewhere.

As much as she hated him, she needed to protect him. Even if she was only protecting him from herself.

Twig was snapped out if her pondering when she suddenly hear someone crying for help.

Instinct took over and Twig rushed towards the voice.

She entered a small clearing, right outside the entrance to Drenched Bluff. Standing outside was a Beedrill that had been battered and bruised.

Twig barely managed to stop herself from barreling into the poor woman, before asking what's wrong.

"Oh thank goodness!" She shouted, crying out through tears. "My son wandered into the mystery dungeon and I tried to find him, but I was attacked by the monsters! He- He's so young! He can't-" she couldn't finish. Getting chocked on her tears.

Twig steeled her expression.

"Don't worry Miss. I'll-..."

Twig hesitated.

Thankfully she didn't recognize Twig's body or voice.

But what would happen if she told someone from Treasure Town about her?

They would recognize the description and start searching.

Then they would find her and Darkrai...

And then Kip would be...

Twig pulled back from Beedrill.

If she did this, then she would be putting Kip in danger.

If she did this, the entire world might end.

Beedrill cried out. "Wh- Where are you going!?"

Twig stopped. She didnt even know she was leaving. "I-... I'm going to go get help. I'm not strong enough." She forced the words past the lump in her throat. something inside Twig shriveled and rotted as she said that.

Beedrill hyperventilated. "There's no time!" She shouted. "By the time they'd get here he'd-"

Beedrill broke down into sobbing.

Twig's fists clenched as she muttered a curse word in English, before spinning around and bolting past Beedrill into the mystery dungeon.

Even if Twig didn't know any moves, the absurd strength that this body afforded her allowed her to tear through the monsters with ease.

Under any other circumstance, she would be enjoying this.

Eventually she found a Kricketot crying in the corner of one of the small rooms. Jumping in shock when she approached.

She comforted him, telling him that she was here to help. She reached for her Explorer badge to warp him out and...

Oh... Right.

Twig gave a deep sigh. "Okayyy, plan B."

She picked up the poor Kricketot and held him close as she traveled through the rest of the dungeon.

The poor kid slowly went from shaking with terror to looking at her with awe. He probably hadn't seen anyone speed through a dungeon this quickly before.

Twig entered into the empty, final room of the dungeon before turning around. At the end of a long hallway, was the entrance.

She didnt know how that worked, but neither did anyone else.

The teary reunion between the Beedrill and her kid honestly made Twig nostalgic. It reminded her of Azumarill and Marill.

"Oh thank you so much!" Beedrill shouted while hugging her son. "How can I ever repay you?"

Twig flinched before rubbing her hands together.

"Uh... you can repay me by... Keeping this a secret."

Beedrill tilted her head. "What? Why? You saved my son's life! Everyone should know just how much of a hero-"

"JUST-." Twig snapped, angrier than she had meant. Beedrill looked stunned. Twig took a deep breath. "Just, don't tell anyone about me. Please."

Beedrill looked at her with a motherly concern before nodding. "I promise."

Twig thanked her as she flew off into the forest, hugging her child while scolding him in an angry, yet affectionate manner.

Twig waited until she couldn't hear her anymore before sitting on the ground and leaning against a tree.

"I'm going to go get help. I'm not strong enough."

Twig curled up and clenched the back of her head as that lie repeated over and over.

What a wretched, selfish thing she is.

#fanfic of a fanfic #pmd eos #the present is a gift au #writing #pmd #fanfic #body swap au

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roses-and-hedgehogs · 4 months

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time to scream about my epilogue au into the void because i keep thinking about it. one of my favourite parts about is that surge is just chilling with the heroes now because she's in a relationship with amy. and that relationship suddenly manages to last 30 years or so. there was no real proper redemption arc or anything, the ONLY reason surge is playing nice is because of amy - because she fucking loves amy. if amy suddenly disappeared from her life - she'd go straight back to murder. the only thing keeping her from murder is amy. and if amy ever has a bad interaction with someone... and then they suddenly disappear off the face of the planet, and amy asks surge what happened to them - surge just replies with a "don't even worry about it :)"

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic epilogue au #surgamy #amy rose #surge the tenrec

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koreyeet · 10 months

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finally made my future au version of them

Gonna go on another rant on my au don’t look

something something criminals that have a chance at redemption or can be seen as helpful (who aren’t going to turn on them) just work a job that suits them at the restoration as a sort of parole or they just get thrown in Everhold

Surge ended up at the mechanic area and that Grease dude just ended up adopting her I guess (let her have this) probably can throw some angst in there, her ability so not die when stuff is dropped on her and electricity helped a lot and lowkey she wanted something in common to do with Kit to bond genuinely that doesn’t involve there trauma or violence or bullying , also she got good at it and it distracts her from everything (minimal conversations with people she tried to kill and in general, idk uhhh she gets to gnaw on metal scraps she finds)

-mentally/physically 16 forever

-aromantic lesbian

-still hates Sonic but tolerates him because his wife is hot and she doesn’t want to loose what she’s got

-she is one of the only ones that doesn’t keep a secret from him so he tends to vent to her much to her demise

-passive aggressively counting down the years until she degrades (174 or 5 left baby)

-✨therapy✨

-still is troubled but is working on it

-her first day a car fell on top her and she just got out like “I’m good”

-that leaf thing in her mouth is just something she chews on (I saw it in her concept art and just took it)

-she needs a shower

-refuses to wear safety gear

Kit just ended up as Jewel’s assistant cause if he went with Surge shit will go down badly, even though he’s capable of it he’d keep nagging and being drawn to Surge every minute so best to keep them separate with assurance from all sides (especially Surge saying) this is fine.

-physically/ mentally 10

-aro/ace

-remember that time he thought Surge was dead and did whatever someone told him to do, rn it’s similar to that

-✨double therapy✨

-he’s still a kid so not much is pressured on him

-tbh at the slightest conflict he still will try to murder

-has a messenger bag but it came without the strap so he’s been carrying it around like a book and is too shy to ask someone to add one

-probably has a collection of funko pops or something

Let them be happy

#sonic au #surge the tenrec #kitsunami the fennec #kit the fennec

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sweetcloverheart · 1 year

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Clover Rants Miraculously

I think I’ve complained about this before, but MLB has a terrible habit of telling you to hate a characters instead of simply letting the dislike form naturally.

Like, take Chloe for example - it was easy to hate her in season 1 because she was being the stereotypical bully and causing Marinette (and the rest of the class and city) problems while acting in a way that earned negativity from the audience. There was no need for the show to go out of the way and make her hateable because she did that well enough on her own while making her an interesting and dynamic character. Then the season 3 finale happened, and it, along with season 4′s portrayal of her, her previous arc as a temp hero, and Thomas’s responses to (genuine and bad faith) questions about it on twitter saw a surge of Chloe defense because hell if Thomas and the writing crew were not determined to shout from the rooftops about how Chloe was the spawn of Satan with a pitchblack soul of coal and you had to think this too or else you likely ate puppies. Every scene she was in was basically the audience constantly being berated with “Hate Chloe Bourgeois or else!” signs while trying to enjoy the episode that just caused them to roll their eyes because really? The dumb blonde girl who’s entire modus operandus is “Threaten to call daddy mayor” is supposed to be seen as an utter monster who’s within the same ranks as the man who, in an alt-timeline, beat his son and then tried to brainwash him into being his magic servant to hurt his girlfriend (“Chat Blanc”)? I mean, outside of the near traincrash she caused as Queen Bee (Which they had her show remorse for, even if they didn’t handle the aftermath all that well) and her actions as Miracle Queen, Chloe is just an entitled bully with a superiority complex. Just get the girl some therapy and cut access to her credit cards and problem solved.

Felix’s entire intro episode is about how he’s such an awful conniving little brat in comparison to our beloved blonde angel Adrien - which he was, and we all loved him for it! and the fact that Thomas and co. didn’t want this just made everyone love him more out of spite. Probably helped that he absolutely seemed to revile Gabemoth and helped move along the Agreste side of the plotline by uncovering important secrets/lore Which should have been happening for our Deutagonist seeing as how this involves his father and mother but you know what let’s move on as well as him being based off the PV!Felix whom Thomas openly hated - so that just meant the fandom should definitely love him more and create thousands of AUs where he gets the Black Cat (or Butterfly) miraculous instead. (Of course, now that he’s on his way to redemption, he’s definitely going to head straight into base-breaking territory, though I feel the writers are just going to sour him on everyone if they play this the same way they did his intro)

Lila was fun to dislike and theorize about after her debut in Volpina - like, the amount of recurring villain Volpina, antihero!Lila, and Butterfly!Lila fanart I saw back then was immense. That’s how much of a splash she made. Then Thomas shuffled her off into the void and left her there for a majority of the show until “Heroes Day/Catalyst”, and when she finally got another focus episode (“Chameleon”), the entire thing spent so much time harping about what an awful and terrible liar she was and how “evil” it was to deceive everyone that people started hating her less for that and began hating the class and Bustier more for being stupid enough to fall for such obvious fibs (though in their defense, that’s more fault of the plot twisting itself into pretzel shapes so that Lila schemes can work when they really shouldn’t), and it worsened with “Ladybug” because everyone was so quick to turn on Marinette in it (and that the school apparently doesn’t have security cameras or bothered to call Lila’s mom considering her daughter was apparently assaulted on school grounds) that it just worsened the class salt the previously mentioned “Chameleon” brought upon. The final nail in the “Hate Lila or else” coffin ended up being the bible spoilers, which just made almost everyone stan her out of spite because when you have the show creators claim a lying teenage girl is more capable of greater evil than the magical emotionally manipulative terrorist, that tells me a lot of things except what you’re trying to claim.

Even Su Han, who isn’t a villain, is victim to this - he’s basically supposed to be representative of the fandom criticism of the show and Fu, who’s only purpose is to yell at Ladybug for “not doing guardianing right” before either being proven wrong (“Furious Fu” and “Ephemeral”) or admitting he’s the actual screw up (“Evolution”). Naturally, fandom responded by either making him the replacement mentor for Fu in their fics/AU that actually helps Maribug and Adrichat and proves a competent ally, or actually make him a decent opposing force.

Meanwhile, the characters they want the fandom to like are immediately hated because they’re just put off by how obvious they are about it - Poor Zoe was hyped to heaven and back, ultimately causing her to be immediately reviled by a lot of the fandom (mostly by those who were still bitter about losing out on Ally!Chloe) in her debut, and disliked even more when her temp hero episode had every character and their mother praising her on how nice she was and how she was so much better than icky Chloe. The constantly being told about how “good and pure” Emilie was despite being given nothing on her life before the Peacock miraculous and Gabriel has caused a number of people to create Evil!Emilie aus where she’s just as much of a self-centered megalomaniac as old Gabemoth. And Gabriel himself is basically the #1 hated villain not just because he’s, as stated, a magical emotionally manipulative terrorist, but also because the show is trying so hard to make him out to be this “sympathetic grey character” who “just loves his family” when he’s done nothing to show this (Hell, his actions the past 4-5 seasons basically showed the exact opposite), not to mention how inconsistent he seems to be with his goals and the lack of competence he’s shown despite apparently being so “smart and sophisticated” (Like my man, you had a time traveling miraculous and have one that can give you any superpower you want - Emilie should have been out of that magical cryocoffin and tap dancing right now)

tldr; Don’t “tell” your audience to hate a character. They can do it fine on their own.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Clover Rants Miraculously #ML Salt

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unhinged-summer-fun · 2 years

Text

waiting for the sun

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

Civilian!Din Djarin x Mandalorian!F!Reader

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

Word Count: 6594

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

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

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

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

[full danktober list here]

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

This is the Way, after all.

Or at least… It had been.

Before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alone.

Injured.

Betrayed once more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not going to a clinic."

"But you're—"

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

"I said, I can take care of myself.”

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

The man was still talking, for the love of—

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

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

It was suspicious. “What do you want.”

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

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

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

Bastard.

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

Symbol.

You looked closer at his chest.

“You're not even a healer, are you?”

He went red as his robes.

“No...”

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

“Rude.”

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

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

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

Oh boy.

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

To the kid.

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

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

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

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

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

Now, if you could escape from this situation…

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

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

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

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

"Nothing!" you barked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your parents forget the rest of your name?”

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

“Mando.”

"Last name?"

"Lorian."

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

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

Coupl'a jokes, we are.

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

“Yipee.”

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

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

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

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

He gave a withering stare to your query.

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

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

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

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

Same storm nebula, different starships.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sure she does."

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

"Got it."

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

He'd been excited about frogs like that before.

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

You froze.

The pram was empty.

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

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

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

"Why? Wh—is this your child?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your blood ran cold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Her and the other mothers of the village."

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

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

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

"You couldn't contact her?"

He shook his head, lips pursed.

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

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

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

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

"It, being… family?"

"Suppose so."

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

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

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

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

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

"Looks like it."

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

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

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

Rough hands. Blue dust on a cheek. Warmth.

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

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

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

Here, take her, I'll hold them back—

They're not going to stop until—

I know. I heard the bulletin. Now go!

Daddy!

I love you, don't forget I love you…

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

The Watch had made certain of that.

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

You could find other Mandalorians, you could…

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

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

No.

It was a Creed.

It wasn't even the Creed.

And it certainly wasn't yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, buddy."

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

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

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

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

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

"I'd say," you scoffed.

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

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

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

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

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

"I'd like that."

Thanks for reading!!

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