#I don’t even like the ship pairs of any of the child characters with any of the adult characters set in the far future

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Familiar & Unfamiliar

din djarin x female!reader

warning: attempted sexual assault (not by our boy mando, and i don’t describe it in depth the furthest it goes is non-consensual kissing), light smut, angst then comfort, then fluff fluff fluff, identity theft, mentions of slave trade, canon violence, dom!din trying hard to be sub!din for you, he doesn’t succeed for long

word count: 4,174

Summary: You travel the galaxy with a Mandalorian who is much softer than his impenetrable beskar would lead others to believe. He leaves you with his son to search for a Quarry, but it’s not the Mando you’ve come to know and love who returns to you.

“It shouldn’t take long.” Mando hummed as he collected his gear from his weapon’s storage. You sat cross legged on the Razor Crest’s floor with the child in your lap. His small green hand played with the small, metal ball he seemed to always find. Your hand stroked his ears only stopping to push the ball away from his mouth when he began to try and chew on it. Mando turned around to stare down at you. “Will you be alright here?”

After traveling with the Mandalorian for the last two months, babysitting and completing repairs on the ship, you had finally grown accustomed to the silver beskar covered man. Initially it had been difficult for you to even look at the man for longer than a second⏤ too intimidated by the black t-shape visor that stared back at you. However, joining him had been your only option at the time, an act of self preservation, so you had to push your fear aside. Luckily, you had quickly learned that though the metal he was covered in was impossible to penetrate, the man underneath was as soft as they come.

You learned that the solemn, silent, and dangerous facade Mando wore was more or less an interpretation of what people saw. Yes, he was dangerous. You had seen him wrestle quarries three time his size and come out unscathed, but you had also seen him humming a song under his breath while giving the child a bath. You had seen Mando go out of his way to purchase you a new pair of boots in the market simply because he noticed your discomfort with your current pair. The brief times you felt his touch, a brush against your arm or a hand on your back, it was soft and comforting. His eyes were impossible to see behind his helmet, but you could feel the care in his gaze. Having Mando’s attention on you felt like safety.

Mando called out your name and you blinked in surprise. “Oh, um, yeah! We’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“I shouldn’t be gone long. Days at most.” He reassured before you could even ask. You stood up and Mando drifted closer⏤ his gloved hand reached out brush the child’s head. Mando chuckled when his son cooed and giggled in response. You heard a long time ago that the best judge of a person’s character was how they treated animals and children. Mando passed that test with flying colors. “You remember the rules?”

“Hmm, no running with scissors?” You joked. Mando tilted his head and you chuckled. “Don’t open the Razor Crest’s ramp for anyone but you, and if I do have to leave for some emergency, get to a crowded spot with plenty of witnesses and talk to no one. Not until you come for us.”

Mando nodded in approval. He gave the child’s head one last pet along the ears and as his hand pulled away you felt his leather covered fingers drag down the length of your bare arm. Heat crept up the back of your neck and you prayed to any deity that was listening that Mando hadn’t heard the hitch in your breath. You were not attracted to your metal armored Mandalorian employer and friend. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

Without another word, Mando made his way to the back of the cargo hold. He opened the ramp before heading down and you called out for him to be careful. Mando glanced over his shoulder, at you and the child, and you waved. You stood at the cargo hold’s edge as Mando pressed a button on his gauntlet and the ramp began to rise. As the metal door rose, you stared at the mandalorian’s back until the ramp cut him off from sight.

Din was more distracted than usual and he told himself it wasn’t because of the newest addition to the Razor Crest. It obviously wasn’t because of you. No, he was just busy with all the bounties he was juggling and the stress of trying to find the child’s people. Then the added dilemma of his current quarry. Already he had been on the flesh trader’s trail for three days. Three full days. That was nothing in comparison to past hunts that would take him weeks on end, but Din found his patience wearing very, very thin.

“Are you ready yet, mate?” A voice asked through the closed door. 

Din had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. His only lead came from a mercenary who was hunting an Inner Rim politician that had come all the way out here to participate in the slave trade. It was the only access Din would have to get into the market to find his quarry and it came at a cost. Din glanced down at the helmet held in his hands. It was an oddly shaped red thing from Kaleesh culture. His new mercenary partner made it very clear that if he walked in as a Mandalorian everything would be lost. On any normal bounty Din would’ve risked it anyways. There was very little in the galaxy that could coax him out of his armor, leave him bare to the world, but a child in danger did it. 

A mother had come to him after he searched for a lead in the local cantina on his first night. She had fallen to her knees in front of him and begged for his help⏤ she offered everything she owned and more in return. Her only child, an eleven year old little girl, had been stolen away from her. Dragged to the flesh market to be sold. Din swore to her that he’d bring her back. On his word as a Mandalorian, she would be reunited with her daughter. He just wasn’t allowed to do it looking like a Mandalorian.

“Seriously, mate, we’re going to be late!” Trigg, the mercenary, barked once more.

Din settled the helmet over his head and shifted uncomfortably. It didn’t fit quite like his real one did, but it was tight enough that he wasn’t worried about it falling off in the heat of battle. For a second, he just stared at himself in the mirror. Red armor of cloth and leather covered every inch of his skin, black gloves pulled on tight, and his oddly shaped helmet covered his face entirely. Din hated it more than anything. But, the sooner he saved the girl and caught his quarry, the sooner he could return to his ship. Return to the child and you.

“I’ll be right out.” Din called back. He settled all his beskar armor pieces into the tarp bag he had borrowed from the child’s mother. It was her home they were using as a base of sorts. Din hid the bag in the closet of the room behind a stack of boxes. It made him anxious to leave his armor behind, but he forced himself to step away and open the door.

Trigg stood in the hall wearing his own personal gear. The blond man had scars from a raking claw on the side of his head leaving those patches with sparse hair. His arms were crossed over his chest and he stared at Din in a mix of annoyance and impatience. “Finally. Did you have to do your hair?”

“It’s you we’re waiting on now.” Din replied dryly as he marched past the man to the door.

The sooner, the better.

Night had fallen for the third night of Mando being gone. It was too soon for you to be worried about him, but a ball of anxiety still sat in your gut. He had been away for longer periods of time before. The longest thus far being three weeks. You were mumbling a soft song under your breath as you rocked the child to sleep. When his eyes drifted close, you carefully set him in the hammock above Mando’s bunk and tucked a blanket around him. 

When you were certain that the kid was settled, you drifted toward the fresher to get ready for bed yourself. You wondered what it would take to convince Mando to pick up a bounty on a planet with an ocean soon. Going from the lava plains of Nevarro to the deserts of Tatooine and now this dusty Outer Rim world was bleak. You missed water. You had grown up near a river on your homeworld and spent a decent amount of time there. It wasn’t until you saw dry planet after dry planet that you truly began to appreciate natural bodies of water.

You shrugged out of your clothes, tossing them aside, and slid into a pair of shorts and one of Mando’s shirts. It had been borrowed early on in your travels and now it belonged more to you than it did him. The dark shirt was large enough to cover most of your shorts. You had been in the middle of washing your face when you heard the tell tale sound of the ramp. Quickly, you grabbed a towel and dried your face while rushing out of the fresher.

Mando was walking up the ramp just as you entered the cargo hold and you shot him a smile, “Hey, Mando.” He came to a sudden stop. You glanced around but saw no evidence of a quarry behind or near him. Had they gotten away? “What happened with the quarry?”

The Mandalorian crossed his arms and a nervous energy settled over your skin. The way he stood just seemed…off. And, the silence that surrounded him wasn’t the usual comfortable quiet you had grown used to. Mando’s helmet tilted some, as if his eyes were raking over your form, and you tugged on the bottom of your shirt anxiously. This was an outfit you wore to sleep every night on the Razor Crest, but right now was the first time you felt uncomfortable having it on around Mando.

“Are you⏤Are you injured?” You asked.

Mando strolled closer to you. Another bit of him that wasn’t right⏤ his gait. As you tried to gather your thoughts, he came to a stop right in front of you. Nearly chest to chest. A lump had formed in your throat, mouth dry, and you tried to swallow it down. Being around Mando always made your stomach feel as if it were filled with butterflies, made your heart race out of your chest, made an addicting warmth pool in your core. 

That was not how you felt right now.

Your hand reached out, as quickly as you could manage it, and slammed against the lock button of Mando’s bunk. The metal door slid down. It clicked into place, and the Mandalorian in front of you grabbed you by the throat and shoved you back until you slammed into the Razor Crest’s wall. You clawed at the familiar, gloved hand tightening around your throat as a low, unfamiliar chuckle rumbled through the modulator.

“What’s wrong, baby?” A voice that did not belong to your Mandalorian asked. “Aren’t you happy to see me? You were a minute ago.”

“Wh⏤Who⏤” You tried to spit out but you could barely breathe let alone form words.

“I’m your Mandalorian, baby.” The cruel laugh coming out from behind the t-shape visor you found comfort in felt so very wrong. He yanked you off the wall and released your throat. You managed to gasp a single breath of air before he backhanded you across the face hard enough to see stars. You fell to your knees and elbows roughly, a cry of pain leaving your lips, but you struggled to find a weapon of any kind. “That’s right. Crawl away, baby. Run. I’m a Mandalorian who likes to hunt, and now you’re my prey. How’s that sound?”

Your hand found a screwdriver, lying off to the side where you had been working on something under the floorboard earlier, just as he kicked you in the side to flip you over. The imposter knelt on the ground over you and you tried to stab him where only the flight suit sat. Unfortunately, he turned fast enough that the screwdriver struck beskar and did absolutely nothing. He laughed once more as you gave up the attack to try and slip away, but he grabbed your hands by the wrist and pinned you to the ground. The imposter sat on top of your thighs, kneeling over you, and you were forced to stare at your reflection in Mando’s armor.

It would be a bold faced lie for you to say you hadn’t daydreamed about having the beskar armor on top of you⏤ the weight of it pressing into you in every delicious way you could think of. But not like this. Not with a stranger inside of it. 

“Who knew the ship came with such a pretty little whore.” The imposter hummed. He shifted your arms so he could pin both your wrists with one hand. With his other, he grasped the bottom of the beskar helmet and pulled it off.  The man’s eyes were a piercing blue. Cold and cruel. Blond hair covered his scalp except on the side of his head where the scars of what looked like claw marks sat. He tossed the helmet aside and gave you a sickening grin. “Is that what you’re here for? You keep the Mandalorian’s bed warm? Let him fuck you when he’s done with a hunt?”

“Get the kriff off of me!” You struggled against his grip, against his touch, but nothing seemed to deter him from using his other hand to run over your body. You screamed until you were hoarse and when you cried out for Mando the man sitting on top of you just laughed. Faintly, you could hear frantic tapping behind Mando’s bunk door and fear struck you. Was the child awake? He wouldn’t be able to unlock the door from inside you didn’t think. 

It seemed the imposter was too immersed in you to hear the sound. 

“How about this,” The man leaned closer into your space, “I get a quick taste of you now, and then, once we’re up and in hyperspace, I’ll fuck you better than your Mando ever could, yeah?”

His lips crashed down on yours roughly. You tried to turn your face away, but the imposter bit down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Between the metallic taste of your blood on your tongue and the smell of his rancid breath you were going to be sick. You gasped in pain and he took advantage by shoving his tongue into your mouth. He pressed his hips down into you, grinding against your stomach now, and the feel of his erection pressing into you made a horrified sob slip form you. It seemed to only spurn him on further. He let go of one of your hands to grasp at the waistband of your pants.

The sound of sprinting footsteps made the imposter sit up and you were barely able to register what was happening when a body dressed in red leather slammed into the beskar covered imposter⏤ both men falling away. Taking advantage of your freedom, you scrambled back as quickly as you could. The stranger dressed in red, wearing an oddly shaped helmet that covered his face, had a hand wrapped around the imposter’s throat while his other fist pounded away at the man’s face. Grunts of anger filled the air with every blow thrown and the imposter fought back only for a moment before his body went slack.

You scrambled away further but your back hit a metal crate sitting in the cargo hold. It shifted slightly and the sound made the stranger sit up and spin around. You gasped⏤panicked. Heart still racing. The imposter laid motionless. His face bruised, broken, and bloody beyond all recognition. You were breathing hard, trying to suck in more air as the air you did get brought no relief. The stranger jumped up, motions smooth and agile, and rushed to you. A cry of fear left you as you tried to pathetically jump up, but his hands wrapped around you. Soft, but firm. A comforting weight.

“It’s me. It’s me. You’re safe, mesh’la.” A familiar voice came out of the unfamiliar mask. The bright red and angry shapes still jarring to look at and you tried to struggle away. He pulled away to rip off his gloves. One hand came to rest on the side of your face, while the other lifted the red helmet just enough to reveal a jaw covered in dark scruff and lips. “Listen to me, mesh’la. You’re safe. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s me. I’m here.”

You were still shaking, your entire body threatening to tremble into pieces, but your breaths were beginning to grow controlled. The warm hand on your face was grounding. It was familiar. You couldn't see the man’s eyes, but you could feel his soft gaze. Safe. You felt safe.

“M⏤Mando?” You gasped.

“Yes.” He nodded. “I’m here, mesh’la. You’re safe now.”

You broke into an uncontrollable sob, unable to bite it back, and Mando didn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms. The coarse, red armor you buried your face into felt unfamiliar, but the strong arms that wrapped around you felt right.

For the first time, Din felt uncomfortable in his helmet. It smelled of the spice that Trigg disgustingly chewed on. He couldn’t even bring himself to pull his armor on. It left him in a pair of plain sweats and shirt. After setting you in his bunk, the child curled into your side, he had stripped the mercenary out of his beskar and thrown the piece of shit into the carbonite freezer.

The job had gone so well then so bad. Din found the young Rodian child and killed his quarry. He’d only get half the bounty with the flesh trader dead, but something was better than nothing. The moment he returned the girl to her mother his heart had stopped when he realized his armor was missing. Din had sprinted to the Razor Crest, faster than he had ever run, and still he hadn’t come soon enough. 

Din stepped out of the fresher. The Razor Crest was in hyperspace and the cargo hold was dark. The only light spilling from the open door behind him. The sound of whimpering filled the otherwise silent space around him. Din hurried to the bunk to see you tossing and turning. He scooped the child up and set him in the hammock before crawling in to try and calm you.

He called out your name, bare hands on your shoulders, and when your eyes snapped open, thanks to his visor, he could see clearly the way panic and fear filled them. You screamed and began to swing at him. His helmet. It was his helmet. Without thinking, Din ripped his helmet off and threw it out of the bunk. Din pulled you into his arms again, pressing your face to his shoulder, and whispered reassurances.

“It’s me, Mesh’la. It’s me. I’m sorry. I was wearing the helmet. You’re safe, I promise.”

“Mando?” You breathed. He buried his hand in your hair and pulled you tighter into his chest. As if the two of you weren’t already tangled together in the small confines of his bunk. “I’m sorry I hit you⏤”

“It didn’t hurt. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” Din didn’t know which emotion waged in him the most⏤ guilt or anger. They were neck and neck. You took in a deep shaky breath and your hot breath on his neck made him sigh in relief. You were safe in his arms. Din rubbed your back and the question fell out before he could hold it back. “Did he… Mesh’la, did⏤”

“No.” You whispered. “You got here just in time.”

Din could feel tears soaking into his shirt. When the tears stopped, Din coaxed you out of the bunk and onto the cargo hold floor. He grabbed a first aid kit and rushed back so you weren’t left alone for too long. The only light still came from the open door of the fresher and he sat so his back was to it. The dim light illuminated your features and it was like a spotlight to the injuries you sported. He had told you that you could open your eyes. With the way you sat, it’d be too dim for you to see his face, but you said you didn’t want to risk it. 

He let his fingers trace the forming bruise surrounding your right eye. It trailed down to brush against the torn skin of your lower lip. Dank farrik. That kriffing fucker had bit you. He could see the outline of teeth. Din’s jaw clenched. He grabbed a bit of bacta and rubbed it gently into the forming bruise. He was going to do the same for your lower lip when you stopped him.

“Did I hurt you?” He blurted.

“No, no. Not that.” You mumbled. “Can I… Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Anything, mesh’la. Anything.”

“Can you kiss me?” You asked. Din was certain he had misheard you. It was why he sat in silence. He was trying to puzzle out what it was you had actually said. You spoke again, nervous, “You don’t have to. I⏤I…”

“You want me to…kiss you?”

You nodded. Eyes still closed lightly. “I know it’s dumb. It⏤ I just don’t want to feel his lips anymore. I don’t want the taste of him on me.”

“That’s not dumb, mesh’la.” 

Din settled one of his hands on the side of your face. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Din began to lean in. He didn’t want to startle you. He wanted to give you every opportunity to pull away if you needed to. Din would be lying to himself, again, if he said he hadn’t imagined the way your lips would feel on him. But not like this. He hated that these were the circumstances, but there wasn’t a single thing Din wouldn’t do for you if you asked.

His nose brushed against yours. Din was close enough that he could feel your lips part. He waited one second more before pressing his lips softly against yours. One of your hands lifted to tangle in his hair and a simple gesture shouldn’t make him feel so hot under his skin. The kiss was slow and tender. Din was terrified to press too hard and bring you pain. The injury to your lower lip still so fresh. And after what you had just suffered through, he wanted you to have all the control. If you needed to use him to rid yourself of that nightmare, to erase the memory that bastard left on your lips, then he would. 

Your tongue brushed against his lower lip, tracing it, and he parted his lips for you giving you room to explore him. Maker, the taste of you was so sweet. It took every single ounce of Din’s self control to not deepen the moment even further. The kiss grew almost frantic. A hand in his hair and another at the back of his neck to pull him into you. You pulled back just enough to suck in a sharp breath before your lips was back on his and Din lost his battle for self control.

He wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap. Din was caught off guard when you pushed down to press yourself against his already hard cock, but it was a welcome surprise. He grabbed your hips, hands tightening into the soft skin there, and grinded into you. You moaned into his mouth and Din pulled away briefly so he could press open mouth kisses along your jaw then down your neck until he reached your shoulder. Thoughtlessly, he bit down, wanting to leave evidence of himself on you, and you let out a sharp gasp while grinding into him again. Din ran his tongue against the bite soothingly. 

Din’s hands slipped under your shirt and he desperately let his lips find yours once more. His tongue slipped past your lips, but then he tasted it. The sharp, metallic tang of blood. Din pulled back quickly realizing his plan to let you run the show had gone to shit. Both of you were breathless. 

“Are you okay, mesh’la??” He pulled one hand away from your hip to touch your face. His thumb brushed against your lower lip and in the dim light he could see the tint of red. 

“Thank you.” You breathed. You leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss that missed and only landed on the corner of his lips. Then you leaned your head on his shoulder and just took slow breaths. Din let his knuckles drag up and down your spine. He could feel your entire body going limp as you melted into his hold. You mumbled, “Thank you, Mando.”

“Din.” He replied, but he didn’t know if you had already fallen asleep or not. “Call me Din.”

#the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #female reader #reader insert #din djarin smut #dom!din djarin #trying real hard to be sub!din djarin #angst/comfort #fluff

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 17}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: Din Djarin is not a remorseful man. Everything he's done, he's done for a reason. But he finds himself in an internal struggle as he tears through the galaxy for traces of you.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, use of narcotics, use of drugs, reader gets drugged, reader gets kidnapped, reader gets tied up, kidnapping, controlling parent, toxic parent / child relationship, toxic parent / child dynamic, din has a lot of feelings, din reflects on his time spent with reader, death, minor character death, infectious thoughts, negative feelings, feelings of inadequacy, issues with intimacy, religious guilt, feelings of religious obligation, religious contemplation, so much guilt for our tin man, violence, derogative language, insinuations of sexual favors, a few instances of shouting, din loses his hold on reality (1) time, references to past instances of self-harm, references to past instances of suicidal ideations, let me know if i missed anything please!

A/N: an all din pov chapter, baby! who's ready for ten thousand words on how this man feels? this was a fun different way to approach the story and i rather liked it even if i am afraid to post it. there are so many different interpretations of din that are all so great, and while this is my personal one for the character in my fic, i'm still worried about how it'll be received

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“Mother, please.” You begged, voice absolutely wrecked. Desperation settled in your gut, making you dizzy and nauseous. The illness of it was debilitating even through the hum of drugs waning in your system. Sobs were wracking your body, exploding from your ribcage in painful bursts. You struggled against the cuffs on your wrists, the cuffs around your ankles, rotating them in hopes of finding weakness but they were strong. But they were made of beskar, strong and programmed to shock you should you jostle them too much. Using the culture of the very people who had meant salvation now for damnation. She had made sure they would hold you this time.

She just sat there, watching you from the chair by the door. Long hair pulled up into a knot atop her head, blue tunic and black trousers flowing and clean. Her hands clasped in front of her, resting her chin against them as her eyes took in the slump of your form across the small room. You were on the ground, legs numb from the hard, unforgiving stone underneath you. Boots removed and down to nothing but your simple clothing. She had taken the pendant from you, the one Din had gifted you in the wake of your confession to losing the one from Akiz. It glinted over her own chest, visible where she allowed it to drape over the front of her collar.

“Please. I don’t want to be here. I want to go back to the ship. I want to go home.”

“Oh no, my darling, you won’t be going anywhere near that disgusting ship again. That Mandalorian has caused enough damage, stealing you away after taking your fob. I still had to pay the Guild fee for your bounty. Credits you know we didn’t have in the first place.” She paused, her hands clasped together, elbows on her knees, and she leaned forward to rest her hand atop them. A wicked smile overtook her as she eyed you across the room.

“Luckily, I found someone who was willing to cover the cost and offer to take you as their wife. They’ve put a lot of energy and credits into helping locate you. They will be here in two days’ time to collect you.”

She looked almost mournful at the idea of you leaving so soon after reuniting. Of sharing you with another after claiming to do everything she had ever done to you out of protection.

“But he swore to protect you from any threats, from the Mandalorians that seem to be obsessed with owning you, harnessing your power to help them crawl from the cracks of the universe they ran to hide in when their planet was destroyed. This man, he’s from a very important royal line that is deeply rooted in the New Republic.”

“The New Republic is a joke, they can’t even keep their own soldiers happy, let alone protect anyone.”

“Hush now, darling.” She got up and the black tin she kept in her pocket flashed in her hand. You began thrashing even more so, tears cascading down your cheeks as she approached you. The click of the tin opening sent you back to every other time you had heard that sound in your life, eyes going wide and your breath left you as if you had been hit square in the chest. “The time will fly by with this dose and then we’ll be off to our new home.”

He’d been searching the city for days.

Despite the thrumming of pain through his head, his vision blurring, and the helmet resting too heavy on the now soft, new skin that was his injury. Tender fingers carefully spraying bacta and skin itching as the tissue tried to heal with its aid. He wished for your smaller hands to be the one caring for him, but he was alone. Alone with a fussing child that was beginning to use his powers to get his feelings across since he was still learning how to talk and use his little voice.

Not taking any time to rest, instincts telling him something was wrong, that something had happened. You wouldn’t just run off, even with what had occurred. At least…not for this long. He hoped. He…hoped.

Stalking through the various casinos and cantina’s, searching for any traces of you to be found. Even in the hectic atmospheres of the racetracks and brothels, of seedier bars and establishments you may have ducked into or been taken to by the force of whoever had stolen you away. Snatched you from whatever you had sought out to calm yourself.

He sat in front of the tracking fob given to him when he first took the job to return you to your mother for hours. Set it atop the control panels in the cockpit, helmet removed and head in his hands as he contemplated turning the device back on. He had scoured the hotels and seedier hostels with it in his grip, to no avail.

It was as if you had simply vanished.

Your smiles and laughter, soft sighs and teasing quips a figment of his imagination.

Made up in the loneliness that accompanied the type of life he led. Missions, jobs, hunting, tracking, trading in criminals and runaways for next to nothing, refueling the ship and hitting the ground running again, taking to the air and space again. And again, and again. He didn’t realize how tired and monotonous it had all become, despite the thrill of his skills proofing to be elite time and time again. He didn’t realize how much he had been missing out on until you threw it all off track. Deliver the goods and credits to the covert, ensure they were safe and protected, collect another job, hunt, track, kill, injure, collect. Broke the routine he had been so accustomed to with an utterance of his dying language.  Rolling off your tongue with precision.

It had been striking. You had been striking and he had torn you down in a way he never wanted to, unintentionally with a fumbling lack of words. It was maddening, to search for days to find no trace of you anywhere.

There was no indication you ever existed aside from those left behind on his ship. The mug of caf sweetened with sugar and powdered milk at the table, the pack of your cigarras you always insisted on smoking outside while it was docked, the crate with your tools and materials used to make armor, the neat and organized labels you had applied to everything within the panels. The room he had set up for you….though you often split your time between his own and the hammock still hung up in the hold space.

He had left it all untouched, too afraid to erase the pieces of evidence that you were real. That you had been aboard his ship. That you had been trying to connect with him and he stumbled over his words so badly he made you feel unwanted on such a level that made you run.

Like the acts between you two had just been him seeking out pleasure with no real intent other than that behind them. The thought that you must’ve felt like he was just like every other person who had ever used you made his stomach turn and bile burn in his throat. Only his ploys had been steeped in honey and saccharine promises. He had frozen, the words he wanted to whisper to you lost in the panic of the moment, of wanting exactly what you were asking for. It had all been so overwhelming. It had been so real, felt so real, and it had been a jarring realization.

That he had wanted to remove his helmet and give into your request.

Despite the Creed he swore his life to. Despite the commitment he had made to you that would allow for him to do so in time.

But now it was too little too late.

After the third day, he was beginning to think you weren’t merely taking some time to yourself…

Maybe he was foolish to think he hadn’t messed up so monumentally that you had found a way off world and run even further from him. But he knew you weren’t the type of person to do that. To him, to ad’ika.

Burc’ya. Friend.

Ner kar’ta. My heart.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. I love you.

Vencuyot riduur. Future husband.

You wouldn’t have run from him to that degree, loyal and devoted. Loving and caring, kind hearted at the very core of who you were. Even despite the tragedies and ill-natured things you had been subjected to in your life. Good. Too good, for someone like him.

He was beginning to think something had happened.

But without the aid of your communication, vambraces still set atop the makeshift table along with your main bag and armor, he had no way of knowing for sure. Just the niggling feeling in his gut that was burrowing deeper by the second.

He sent a transmission to Karga, asking if there was any news of your arrest before deeming the planet a lost cause and raising the ramp. He took the Crest up up up and into the air, helmet scouring the shrinking planet all the while, feeling an ache in his heart that he didn’t think he would ever get used to.

He had to push through, he had to focus. You needed someone to help you, wherever you had gone or been taken. You needed him to find you. He needed to find you.

Ad’ika had been in a constant flux from eerily silent to wailing as loud as his little lungs would allow, wide eyes brimming with tears the longer you were gone. Din had taken to wrapping the child up in the cloak he had bought you, securing it with the metallic flower latches and laying him down in the cot alongside him. Never sleeping, only laying down intermittently to pass the time. Rest evading him as his mind began to think of the things that could’ve happened to you.

Tatooine was his first stop, no response from Karga when he docked and secured the ship in Pelli’s hangar. Much to his disappointment, the travel through hyperspace hadn’t been too long, so a response was wishful thinking on his part. Spurred on by the endless possibilities of what happened consuming him.

He was silent as he handed her the credits from your bag, loathing that he needed to use them as he lacked his own. Even now, gone from him and hurt, you were still offering him help. Providing for him the way he should be for you, the way that he wanted to. The reality of having asked you to travel with him weighing heavily on his mind. Once ad’ika is settled with those who could train him, Din would need to take up working with the Guild full time again to provide for the covert. A life steeped in danger and endless threats, a life you already had far too much experience with. Perhaps…perhaps he could secure a tract of land somewhere, a place to return to after jobs. A nice cabin surrounded by trees and an endless supply of anything you may need. Or perhaps a shop front on Nevarro, for you to sell you wares. He would take extra jobs to provide that for you, work his hands to the bone and until he could barely move for how exhausted he was.

Because you deserved it. You deserved to be happy and he was beginning to think that may not be with him. Not if he was constantly away or you were left on the ship for days, weeks, months at a time while he tracked down his quarries. Constantly traveling through space and left to handle the ship alone.

Would…would you even want that type of life?

Wouldn’t it be another type of imprisonment, no reward but a tired and aching man in the bed beside you only a handful of nights? Half of him given to you, half devoted to his Creed.

I’d rather be dead than be someone’s captive again. Even if it’s as one to you, jatne vod.

Thoughts consuming him, there was no argument from him as he left ad’ika with her to look through the city.

The lack of your figure emerging from the ship didn’t prompt any questions from her, though he could sense them on the tip of her tongue and the front of her mind.

He set out, looking for the woman who you made friends with the last time he had landed the Crest on the sandy planet.

He found her, in the middle of a scuffle in the marketplace over a stolen loaf of bread. A child whose stomach was caved in and bruises over their arms visible when the sleeves of their tunic rose up. The vendor wanted the child to be taken in, punished for the attempted theft. But he could see how conflicted Sioban was with following that heated demand.

Diffusing the situation, seeing the form he had first encountered you in mirrored in the small child, he stepped forward and offered a handful of credits to the vendor.

“To cover the bread for the child, two loaves and that chunk of cured meat.”

“Sir, this has nothing to do with you. You don’t need to put yourself out for that ungrateful litte-“

“Take it.” Din’s head throbbed, exhausted and anxious, just trying to do something good. Something you would do. They were your credits, and he wanted to do this. At the fixed stare of his visor, the vendor released the child from her tight grip, nearly throwing the small frame to the ground as she did. Roughly, she gathered the loaf that had started the whole ordeal, a second one, and the wrapped meat. Holding it out for him to take.

Sioban ushered everyone who had stopped in their tracks to go about their business. Once the small crowd cleared and attention was diverted, Din turned to the child and crouched down.

“Here, for you.” He kept his voice a hush, not wanting the modulator to manipulate his voice into a threatening or menacing tone it tended to do, taking the emotion from his words more often than not.

“T-thank you, sir.”

“Now go and stay out of trouble.”

An enthusiastic nod and they were running off, disappearing down the street.

“Well, well, well. Mando is a softie afterall.” Sioban’s voice lightly teased. “Where’s Sarad and the baby? Or is this a solo trip this time around?”

“I would like to speak with you, if you have the time.”

“Something happened.” The woman’s features hardened, a slant to her brow as her eyes looked him over before settling on the visor. She didn’t look or feel like a threat, something proven further by your willingness to share a table with the woman. But Din was fighting his instincts, the ones telling him to chase chase chase, even with no actual leads as to where you had gone. And this woman might hold some clues or at least be able to offer Din a higher chance if he had someone on the ground of the planet you had run to once already.

“Yes.”

The conversation with Sioban hadn’t yielded any answers. If anything, it solidified that Din had absolutely no idea what to do. With no other leads, he fell back on his tracking tactics, searching for your last place of known residence.

Once back to the ship, he silently takes ad’ika from Pelli. Not responding to the looks or faint questioning he knew was on the woman’s mind. A nod, a formal shaking of the woman’s hand and he was guiding the Crest back into the air to comb over the planet as best he could. You had said you thought you were here when he took you from that compound, a home you had hidden away on this world after running from your mother years ago.

It took him nearly a week’s worth of days of flying low to the land before he caught sight of a structure.

Mind working overdrive as he strained his eyes through the visor with aided mechanics for any sign of life amid the vast stretch of the desert landscape. Sectors outlined and crossed out when they didn’t yield anything. Errant skeletons of a bantha, the Jawa’s traveling across the land, and Tusken settlements the only markers of time passing and the ship moving moderately along.

And then, suddenly.

There were two tall spires beside a moderate looking abode. Moisture farming equipment, the same you had told him about replacing shortly before your capture. Was all he had to go off of, a small conversation that you hadn’t expanded on in your time with him.

The structure was like most far out into the desert, mostly underground with a rounded and smooth stone roof, a door with a protected entrance to prevent sand from building up right up against it. It was modest, big enough for one person to have plenty of room. Abandoned, by his guess, the stone of the building chipped in places from sand and the spare storm weathering it down.

It had to be yours, it had to be, please let it be yours were his thoughts as he broke the lock still activated, ensuring the structure was protected even out in the middle of nowhere. Mos Eisley was an entire day’s travel away. Even more so in any other direction to another of the planets handful of moderate settlements. A good place to hide. Visibility on your side. A lonely place to hide.

I’ve always loved the forest.

The memory how your tired and injured features had lit up at the sight of Sorgan visible through the glass of the cockpit, the breathy gasp that had fallen from your lips sprung to his mind. You had been so calm, despite the precarious circumstances, stealing away moments to brush your bare fingers along the leaves reaching out from low branches.

You must’ve been miserable here. The land so dry and empty, the closest mountain ridges barely visible on the horizon. Even those were spotty with tangled roots that held little to no greenery. Sentencing yourself to the wasteland to live out your life in fear and comfortability, hoping the environment you weren’t fond of would throw those searching for you off your trail.

Glancing behind him, Din watched as ad’ika slowly made his way down the ramp. Little sounds falling from his lips as he took in the sight of his guardian in front of a new place he didn’t recognize. Raising his hands as he got to the bottom of it, Din retreated to it and lifted up the small child, holding him tight in the crook of his elbow as he descended down the few steps and through the open door.

It was dark inside, no lights on or power source even charged, no doubt. But definitely abandoned. Sparingly decorated, though he could feel that it was once your space. The kitchen equipped with a fancy caf maker, ample kitchen wares, potted plants and herbs that had long died and dried in the sunlight coming in through the windows. There was an impressively organized wall of shelving right above a desk in the large main room, presumably where you would work on crafting armor. The only way to support yourself in such an environment. Most likely making trips into town in order to sell or trade.

There were three interior doors at the back of the structure. A heavy duty one off to the side of the kitchen. That one contained a greenhouse set up, or as close to one as you could imitate underground and on so hot a planet. There was a large panel of controls beside the door on the inside, telling Din of the way you controlled the pressure and moisture of the room One to a storage room, more evidence of your time spent here. Full of large bins and crates, evidence of grains and dried food. Of the pieces of armor you lovingly and intricately crafted.

One to a fresher, the last to what was once your bedroom.

Underneath the bed is where he found it, with the aid of his helmet. The massive rug that took up most of the bedroom floor hiding it in plain sight. The trap door exposed when he moved the bed and folded the rug up.

It wasn’t secured with anything that he could see, even with the aid of his helmet. It looked just like score marks dug into the stone ground. And he recalled the way you could effortlessly wield the Force, the power you shared with the child. Perhaps you hadn’t wanted a way for anyone else to access what lay hidden beneath, using it to manipulate the hideaway you felt you needed even this deep in the desert alone. Forever paranoid and fearful of being tracked down and found out.

Sighing, Din tried to think of a way to break the barrier, knowing he needed to search the entire home.

“Ad’ika,” He called, turning to see the child had situated himself on the couch in the main room. Eyes wide as he toyed with a broken collar. He wondered if it had belonged to a creature you had cared for, run away or long since passed now. “Ad’ika, can you help me?”

Leaning down to pick up the occupied child, Din pointed a gloved finger to the marks in the stone ground.

“Ad’ika, see these lines?” A gurgle of acknowledgement, the tilting of his head. “There’s a door here, that leads underground. Mesh’la put it there, do you think you can open it?”

Din set him down in front of it, crouching down to hold his hand out in front of them both and mimic the way you would twist your hand in concentration to harness your powers.

“Just like Mesh’la, like how you take the handle from the lever in the control room?”

Wide eyes looked up at him, curiosity in them at the man’s words.

If this didn’t work…he could always resort to using the charges fastened to his belt. Force a way through the entrance, but he didn’t want to damage the space or the room below.

But the crackling of stone was sharp as it sounded in the air. The child’s small face scrunched up in concentration, his eyes clenched shut as he harnessed his powers. Quiet grunts falling from his mouth as he struggled to move the stone.

But it was working. It was opening, the telltale sounds of stone grinding on stone as the thick slab that acted as an entrance was pried open.

“Good job, ad’ika! It’s working!” He couldn’t contain the pride in his voice nor the rapid beating of his heart. Positive that any answers he was in search of would dwell below. He moved forward to help lift the heavy slab, shoving it along the floor and revealing a dark space into the lower level of the house.

Turning on the flashlight of his helmet, Din descended into the bowels of your hideaway. Dust enveloped him as he waved at ad’ika to stay put on the higher level until he cleared the space.

It was a large room, the same size as the whole top floor of the structure. Though it was only two rooms, a living room and a bedroom with a second fresher. The living room held floor to ceiling bookcases, filled to the brim with physical books. A holo net in front of the couch, signs that you spent just as much time down here as you did in the rest of the structure if not more.  He hated the realization that you felt the need to hide away even this far out in the desert, this far out in the galaxy. Forever paranoid and holding the fear that you would be tracked down. And he had been a part of that fear, he had been one of the many who had sought you out.

The crate in the bedroom caught his eye, beckoning him forward. Not only because of the hefty locks sealing it shut but because there was energy around it that made the tips of his fingers tingle. Much like his blood when he felt your body pressed up to his own, the sacrament of your trust in him personified.

Walking toward it, the small baby curls of his recently trimmed hair prickled on the back of his neck.

Snapping the thick locks, he kneeled on the ground in front of it and slowly lifted the lid.

His breath left him as the visor set into a midnight blue, almost black Mandalorian helmet peered back up at him. It was in pristine condition, as if it had merely been taken off for the man who he suspected wore it to partake in a quick meal and not the reality that it had been stored here for who knows how many years untouched. He hadn’t asked if you had kept it, after the man’s death, but he was felt the question bubble on his tongue more than once. But the answer was sitting obvious and blaring right in front of him.

Lifting it revealed the very same pendant he had gifted to you, attached to a thinly crafted beskar chain.

The one you had said you intended to show him in order to garner his help, to let him know of your connection to his way of life. Lost in the scuffle of being taken off guard and whisked away, but it was here, awaiting your return. He wondered why you hadn’t worn it that day, the day that set your paths up to cross. With slow movements, he began to remove the cowl about his neck, laying it down beside him.

With a held breath, he reached for the pendant and fastened it around his neck, tucking it beneath his shirt and layers of protective ware fronted by his cuirass. The cowl going back in place.

Beside the helmet…beside it was a neatly arranged line of metal hilts similar to the one you carried with you at all times. Similar to the one you had tried to buy your freedom from him with when first meeting.

Similar but not identical.

There were four of them. Lightsabers, you had told him they were called. That he now knew were an integral part of the creed you had been trained in. But the fact remained that he didn’t know the why of how many you had in your possession.

You had said each person similar in skill and training crafted their own, each unique and personal to an individual much like the helmets and armor Mandalorian’s adorned. Carefully picking one up, tingling traveling further up his arms and settling down his back, he tilted it to see that it did indeed house a crystal like your own. Each one had a different hue.

He decided to stay in the place that you once called home that night, locking up the ship after checking to see if he had received word from Karga. But when there were transmissions waiting to be heard, he secured the ship. His head hurting and his mind overwhelmed at finding pieces of you, proof that you existed outside of his memories.

Settling into the bed, he knew it was a lost cause as he tried to feel close to you. Reality reminding him you hadn’t slept in either of the cots aboard the ship in nearly two weeks now, years for the bed he now lay atop, cover bunched underneath his arms as he curled on his side and regarded the journal you left behind in your haste to run. Ad’ika resting atop the pillow beside his own, wrapped in your cloak as if it was the softest blanket in the universe. The child trying to feel close to you as well, missing you and growing more concerned each day.

Sleep evaded him, your voice loud in his head, the way you had sounded so devoid of emotion when he had failed to communicate with you. Tipping into different memories, the most prominent of the events back on Nevarro.

It rang in his ears, over and over, layering itself until it was a buzz he couldn’t rid himself of.

Ner kar’ta.

The desperation in your voice, the tears in your eyes, the way your hands shook as they reached out for him, how gentle they were when they cradled his helmet. The soft press of your forehead to his chest, to his helmet, to his hands grasped in your own as he lay bloodied and injured, barely conscious and so tired. So ready for death after a life that had only allowed him a glimpse of you. To ensure you could escape and continue to live, to be safe.

You had told him, as well as you could, what you meant to him.

Had shown him, with trusting him to press his skin to yours, body tangled with his own. Nervous giggles sounding into the air and seizing his heart as he wanted for more of them. Of the breathy sighs and sounds that fell from your lips as you let him caress your skin, the soft give of your chest, the plush give of your thighs, the velvet smooth apex between them.

Trusted him with the most intimate parts of you, parts of human connection. Even in the face of all that you had endured.

And then you has whispered it, half asleep and safe underneath him.

I love you. Future husband.

And he shattered it. With a foolish blunder of words he hadn’t been able to reign in, to explain himself and his own desires in a more coherent way. That he wanted you just as you wanted him.

Jatne vod.

Contradicted with the emotion bleeding from your expressive eyes, the firm line of your lips as you closed your mouth, resigned to a notion that you gathered from his stupid, ill thought-out words. From his lack of words. The way your hands shook for an entirely different reason, the way you shrunk into yourself, away from him.

And then you had been gone.

And it hurt.

He left ad’ika in the room, fast asleep atop the pillows.

Removing his helmet and hanging his head in his hands, he settled on the couch. For the first time in a long time, the Mandalorian known for being so ruthless, for being so focused and emotionless behind his helmet, cried.  

“Mando, I’ve received word. But it is best relayed in person. I will be awaiting your arrival.”

Ad’ika was not having a good day, he didn’t want to leave the house he could feel your presence in. He had already wailed and shook his tiny fists as Din tried to pick up him. Causing the migraine addled man to lose his grip at the sharp pierce of his cries to his head. That had only resulted in the thump of ad’ika’s bottom on the stone floor and more crying.

Din already felt bad enough, but he felt like the worst guardian in the galaxy for dropping his foundling, for not being able to manage his own pain and discomfort to care for another’s. A pang of fear floods him, igniting his instincts in a way it rarely did. And he froze in his crouched position, having been about to scoop ad’ika up.

The child must’ve shared in his foreboding, a shriek sprouting from him and causing Din to cradle his head as best he could with the helmet, knees kissing the floor harshly as he fell to them.

Something was wrong. Low in his gut, unease bubbled and stuck to his insides.

He felt like he was going to be sick, his head throbbing, pain prickling from the healing scar at the back.

And then his body felt numb, like all sense of command was not his to control and his vision blacked out.

Nevarro loomed in the distance, approaching fast. The ship rattled at the harsh landing, Din’s steps hard and fast as he disembarked, the ramp closing behind him as he crossed the new archway that had been erected in the time he had been away. Months had gone by, one with you and one without. Having to spend another week resting in the place you once called home. He had fallen ill, though of what he didn’t have an answer. Only that his head felt like he had been electrocuted and his limbs had been hard to control. Adi’ka too, had been lethargic, crying out long into the night every time the suns had set and darkness took over the planet. The search for you stretching far too long, anxiety thrumming over his skin.

Karga was in the reconstructed city hall, reading over something laid out on the table when the door boomed open, revealing the determined figure of Din, a secretary behind him frantically trying to warn the man in charge of his arrival.

“Where?”

“Sir, please, you need to check in-“

“It’s alright, he’s got clearance.” With a nod the woman was closing the door behind her, knowing it was serious if all protocol was being ignored.

Din repeated his question, forgoing a formal greeting.

“Well, I wish these were better circumstances.” The man stood up, coming around the table and leaned against it, his arms crossed over his chest as he took in the still form of Din across the room. The wide eyes of the child peeking out from the bag at his hip, small hands allowing him to climb from within it and jump from the moderate height. He cooed, walking the distance to Karga and lifting his hands toward the man.

“I’m still trying to get intel on that. But I do know that it was her mother, who struck a deal with someone of the Guild. He…was here still when we took back the city. He had taken the transaction separate from the Guild, not wanting word of it to get back to me. To you.” He relayed the information as he bent down to pick up the small being.

“I’ve got him locked up, but he’s not speaking.”

“He will.”

“Mando-“

He was gone in a blink, stalking out the door and toward the prison cells kept on the lowest floor of the building.

The stone steps opened up to a line of cells on both sides of the long room, Din stopped in front of the only occupied one. Body buzzing with anger that the inhabitant had not only hunted you down and captured you but did so on the orders of someone who’s voice triggered you through a transmission. He couldn’t begin to imagine the visceral reaction you’d have upon seeing her for the first time in years, having entertained the thought of killing yourself in order to not have to deal with her again.

And he feared, heat catching in his throat as he felt the prickle of tears.

I’d rather be dead than be shackled for one more second of my life!

You…you wouldn’t, right? Now that you had him to return to, someone to rescue you from being stolen away from the life you had carved out for yourself. It had been so long since you had been taken, days, weeks, and entire month. And he still had no clue as to where you had been crated off to. It would be more days, more weeks, maybe another month before he could figure it out. Did you already seize an unknown opportunity, try to escape? Or had you given up, too loaded up with whatever drugs your mother and intended pumped into your system to make you compliant? Would you have taken the endless out of harming yourself, seeing it as the only option as he failed to come to your aid thus far?

Would you be able to sense the desperation and endless efforts he was putting forth to find you? That he was trying, despite the way he was still healing, despite the sense of dread that he would be too late?

Would you be able to sense his worry and fear over you having to deal with something you never wished for? A forced reunion with your mother, back in her clutches and control. A forced marriage to a man you didn’t know, the obligations that came along with that notion…the very same acts that had caused you to turn to self-harm in the past, the scars of which were displayed on the skin of your thighs, the same ones that he had run his fingers over not too long ago…

A man bound in cuffs was slumped against the floor, back leaning on the wall behind him. He appeared to be alive, though if his answers didn’t aid Din in his search for you he wouldn’t be for long. Giving into the urge to startle the unaware man, Din banged a fist on the bars of the cell. Jerking awake, the man’s eyes flew open and his chest heaved.

The second he recognized the armor, his eyes narrowed and he frowned.

“It was just a job, nothing personal, Mando.”

“Is that why you went out of your way to hide it from the Guild records?”

“You’re too self-righteous, knew you’d come after me for hunting the girl.”

The snapping of metal was loud, sickening as Din’s shoulders forced the control panel to bend and spark.

The whine of the door swinging open deafening as the man pressed himself back into the wall, trying to get up on his feet. But he was too slow, Din’s hands hauling the man up by the front of his jumpsuit and slamming him into the wall. A crack sounded as the back of the man’s head connected with the stone of the wall. A wail punched from his chest as he lost the air in his lungs.

“It’s too late, her mother married her off to some high lord. She’s probably already knocked up with his heir by now. Living a cush life in some nice palace far away from here.” He spoke unprompted by a direct question. Knowing that it was useless to try and lie to the Mandalorian.

The mere thought of someone touching you had anger swirling in his chest and stomach, igniting him in a dangerous way. You didn’t like people touching you, you didn’t like anyone who wasn’t him touching you in any way let alone intimately. His voice was low when he breathed out his next question, an edge to it that commanded the truth.

“Where?”

“Don’t know, I told her mother you were probably going to find out, track me down and kill me for the information. Don’t know why.” The man flipped the stray hairs flopping over his forehead away, teeth clenching as he recalled the way you had slammed him harshly into the side of the alley.  “The bitch has a pretty face, sure, but she was a handful. Took a lot to take her out, but once I did, she begged so sweet for me to let her go.”

“Drugging someone isn’t something to boast about, it’s a last-ditch effort for those who don’t have the skill for the job.” Din’s words were a guttural sound, echoing across the floor. Blood dripped from the man’s nose, a vambrace knocked into it the longer the man talked. He didn’t know anything, but that wouldn’t stop Din from beating what he could out of the man.

“So what? It took her down and that’s what mattered. I saw her take down those Storm Troopers that overran the city, there was no way I was going to be able to without the hint from her mother. You’ll find another body to warm your bed. No need to fret over-“

Din’s hand was around the man’s throat in a flash, knuckles popping with the force. An ugly gurgle deep in his chest, body desperate for air, but he would never take another breath again. Windpipe crushing under his palm, Din took some comfort in the final, choked sound the man made before his body went limp.

Before it could even crumple to the ground, Din was walking out of the room and going straight toward the stairs.  

“Mando, I sent communication to Cara, she’s-“

“I’ve got what I need.” Din was careful as he lifted the child from atop the desk where Karga had set him with a snack. Exchanging adoring coos with the tired little being. Making sure to offer the rest of the pack of dried fruit to the claws reaching out for it, a whine falling from his mouth at the idea of leaving it behind.

“Not so fast-“

“I don’t have time. I need to find her.” Din snapped, fists clenching and ad’ika ducking down into the bag at the boom of his voice. “She’s been sold like a slave by her mother.”

“I’m going with you,” Cara was firm in her decision, not wanting to take any chances of your distance becoming permanent. Of it leading to the demise of the person who you had begun to develop into that she had glimpsed.

“No, I have to handle this myself. I was the one who failed to protect her.” He moved to continue through the room, toward the door. But Cara was suddenly in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips a firm line.

“Mando, you’re gonna need help. And she’s important to me too.”

It was a quiet trek back to the entrance of the city, more ships having landed around his own. He was about to engage the ramp when two of the attending guards approached him. But they spoke with Cara at the sharp gaze of the visor on them. Another ship was offered for them to use, curtesy of the city and of Karga. Something a little smaller, a little faster, nondescript and wouldn’t give away the presence of an enraged and desperate Mandalorian searching for his partner.

When the argument for a different ship didn’t take, Karga approached through the archway.

Cara was hesitant to point out that the ship was as obvious as Din’s armor. A sign to tip off those keeping an eye out for threats. She had been quiet, sitting in the office with the magistrate and the child while the body of the now deceased Guild member who had hunted you down was taken care of. Waiting for Din to emerge from the containment level. But now she stood beside him, urging him to see the benefits to changing ships, just for the time being.

“Do we risk docking the ship in a hangar?”

“Yes, we lie about the model.” Din insisted, not wanting to leave the Crest behind.

“What if someone knows?”

“It’s an old ship, pre-Empire, no one will know.”

“They’ll run it through the system.” Karga spoke up, wanting to be a voice of reason for his friend determined to rush, to not take a beat and think things through. “Mando, you owe it to her to be as stealthy as possible. If they know you’re coming, once you track down where, they may hurt her. Take it out on her.”

Din closed his eyes, hand coming to the front of his helmet and over the visor. He didn’t want to part ways with his ship, even temporarily. It would mean he wasn’t surrounded by the things you left behind, the proof that you were real, had been with him, shared in a life with him even for a moment.

With his words more of a grunt than anything, he conceded, knowing the two beside him were just trying to help.

“What did you do Mando?” She asked quietly, the book from your crate in her hands and pages flipping as she looked through it. Hoping to find some light on how to connect with you. Din had gathered supplies from the Crest, things you may want once he managed to find you and rescue you.Your armor and more of your clothing, the first things he packed into your bag. An insistence for you to never leave the ship without the pauldrons again that he would plead with you until you conceded. People would be less likely to confront you with the tell-tale signet of a clan and the Mandalorian armor. But then again, he never planned to stray far from you outside of the ship. He knew you were capable, more than capable, but he…he wouldn’t be able to handle loosing you again if he was able to get you back.

When he got you back, he argued against the self-depreciating and negative thoughts that were attempting to consume him.

The ship was in hyperspace, a three-day trip ahead of them to make it to the mid rim coordinates of your home world. Neither had been there but knew of the inhabitants being an uneven mix of humans and a reptilian race. Oceans and sprawling fields of tall grass making up most of the environment. It was a moderately size planet, had seen bases for both the Resistance and the Empire in it’s time. Though the more recent had been the former. Most likely spurred on by your suspected return to what you knew in the wake of the Temple’s attack. An event in your life that you had yet to open up completely about, allowing him small glimpses before it became to much to talk about. But it was easy to connect the fall of Mandalore and the fall of your Temple being equally devastating, an attempt to take out entire cultures.

“I…I made a mistake.”

“…how big of a mistake?” Cara didn’t look up from the journal in her hands, not wanting to make the armored man feel cornered. Allowing him the privacy and space to turn away from the question should he want to, feel the need to.

“She fled the ship, to get some space. She must’ve been distracted, too worked up to keep her head up and on alert. It…I’m the reason she was taken.”

“Mando, you know that’s not true.” Cara tried to placate him, knowing he carried a lot of guilt over what had happened, whatever it had been to cause all of this. “She didn’t have her saber?”

“She does- did. She.. they drugged her. Like you said, it’s the only way to take her down.”

“Wait, this looks like Basic. They’re the only characters written differently…”

Din was hovering, making out the words on his own.

“Betrothed.”

He recalled the same words falling from your lips, the reason that prompted you to make an escape. You hadn’t wanted to be someone’s wife, someone’s property. The name was in Basic as well, something you didn’t want to forget lest they come after you themselves. A shadow of your past hovering over you and hidden in the back of your mind as you set out on your own, determined to hide yourself away to prevent anyone from having power over you. Of belonging to someone, anyone ever again.

And yet…you had so readily agreed in his commitment to you, knowing that was the only way Din would be able to share in your affections and wants. Mandalorian religion and culture strictly forbade the removal of one’s helmet unless it was with family, with a spouse, with children of the same clan. To do so outside of those conditions would result in the label of an apostate. Striped of their involvement in the lifestyle and Creed. It was a serious thing you should hold reservations about, with your past.

And while he hadn’t pushed the parameters of it….he had wanted to. For you, for himself, to share himself with you in the way that you had felt safe enough to voice. The realization that you had agreed to such an all-encompassing thing, being with him made him reflect. Why were you willing to do so with him, for him? He was just a bounty hunter, one who had actively sought you out and intended to turn you into the very person who had stolen you away. Sold you like an object to someone for their wants and needs, to fill a space in their life whichever way they commanded it. He had been of the same mind when first encountering you, seeking you out for a trade of currency.

Din was not a good man, though he tried to be for his people. But being a good man to his people, being the sole provider for his covert allowed him to be fast and loose with what it meant to be good in order to do so. What did it matter if the person whose puck he had was truly guilty of the accusations calling for their surrender if it allowed him to delivery credits and supplies to his people? What did it matter if the job warranted for the person he was tracking to be delivered dead or alive and he chose to kill them based on the simple notion of them running and it allowed him to bring a ration of meals to his people?

What had he ever done to deserve someone such as yourself willing to let down your walls and allow him entrance? He had been at internal war, whether or not to turn you in the second you spoke Mando’a to him, healed him, saved him from that second raging Mudhorn even when you had to reason to do so. You easily could’ve let the cut on his arm fester, let the rampaging creature take out his already spent form.

But…it wouldn’t have been easy, he knows now. How you cared for those around you: from friendly vendors to women you seemed to see yourself in, to children who are simply hungry and have no choice but to steal, to ad’ika in bounds and waves, to him. The constant swivel of your head while out in crowds and among people, sousing out threats and people who may be on the lookout for you. The swiftness with which you turn into a fighter when threatened and your freedom is at stake.

The thoughts swirled around and around in Din’s mind as the ship traveled toward your home world. The last known location of your mother and potentially holding clues as to who she struck a deal with. The now dead bounty hunter not having gotten a name, only concerned with the exchange of credits for your capture. No questions, no concerns. The quarry’s capture the only thing that mattered. The man had taken the job and completed it. Had died as a result of it.

Din had been like that too, not that long ago.

Could have easily been the one being imprisoned while someone who cared about a quarry sought answers and revenge. But he was the one realizing how fragile things where, had been since taking two fobs from Karga and altering the very meaning of his life.

Something about the wide, beseeching eyes of the child had activated his heart. Opened it up and made room for the small being to fit into. The uncertainty he had sensed from the child once its eyes had looked into his own, spurring a sense of concern from the armored man over its life well beyond the need to deliver it to the client healthy and alive.

“She asked for something, for a…kiss.”

“But…your helmet.” Cara weakly argued, knowing how strongly he adhered to his Creed. Not even removing it in the face of grave injury and offered aid. Not even removing it in the threat of death.

“I know,” His words were carried on a heavy sigh. He sat heavily in the seat beside her, the hull holding a small set up for longer travels. Ad’ika crawled from her lap and over the table, situating himself in Din’s arms, claws reaching for the helmet to try and sooth the man. “She- she called me ‘jatne vod’ before she fled from the ship.”

The cracking of his voice was not lost through the modulator.

“She must’ve felt so rejected, so unwanted. And I- I just stumbled over my words so badly she ran.”

“She knows you care about her, Din.”

The sound of his name from her lips, so different from when you spoke it, whispered it, breathed it, was too much for him.

“I really messed up, Cara.” He admitted with shaky words.

“We’ll fix it, I’ll help you fix it.”

K’ath was a beautiful planet. All endlessly sprawling ocean, sandy beaches, and small clustered villages.

Simple. Life here was simple. Crops being tended to, the oceans being fished in, no signs of the war other than an abandoned base on the edge of the largest cluster.

Din hadn’t ever wanted to enter the planet’s atmosphere, to step foot on the sandy land. It was a place that held painful memories for you, the crumbling of a life you had been hopeful to return to in the wake of losing everything that ever meant anything to you. A hopeful refuge after a life of hardships, but it had only provided you with more. The stripping of your freedom and the control over your own body.

It was simple enough to find your home, your mother’s home. Asking after the armorer, claiming he was in need of repairs. A Kath woman had been kind enough to try and use her broken Basic to tell them where he could find the store front, but that no one had been tended to it for some time now. That the woman who was known to run it could be approached at her personal residence. That she was kind and could be persuaded to help even though she’d long retired from working.

It was empty, signs of disuse obvious from the outside. Tall reeds of grass sprouting up at the foundation, the windows thick with grime. It was humble, despite the ways in which Din had seen you return from a shop front, a bag heavy with credits in your possession. A skill that you learned from your mother lending you a way to support yourself and indulge in all the things you had to go without for so long.

There was only one transmission on the communication radio set up in the corner that Cara had rushed to once the door had creaked open. Sand was collected in the corners, another sign that no one had occupied the residence for some time now.

“She’s on Maldovan.” Cara shuffled into the bedroom from the main one, aware that the man was focused on something she couldn’t see. He was as still as a statue, peering into the darkness of the doorway in front of him.

The visor allowing him to take in the room you had been held captive in. There was bedding on the ground, no frame for it to sit upon. A chair on the opposite side, close to the door. No windows, no other entrance or exit. A small room that was bathed in darkness lest someone bring a lantern into the room with them.

“I don’t know that planet.” Din admitted, shifting from where he was standing at the doorway of what had been the locked room hidden behind a large wardrobe to look over his shoulder at her. The shifting of it had popped a drawer open, revealing needles and syringes, vials that had been long emptied. All signs that this was truly the home you had been kept in.

“Is that-?”

“Where San was kept locked up, yeah.” He was surging forward, hands reaching for the chains secured to the walls above the bedding and he pulled. Using all the strength he had to rip them from where they were bolted, the wall cracking and splintering as he did so. The heavy chains fell to the floor with a clang, metal that sounded eerily familiar as it collapsed on itself. Kneeling down, Din reached for one of them, the cuff in his hand heavy and he sucked in a breath as he realized why such a simple contraption had been able to hold you: the chains were made of pure beskar.

Far too heavy for your drug addled body to fight against.

Programmed to shock you should you move too much, the sensors lining the inside of the cuffs telling him as much. With a shout he tore the second, lower set of chains from the wall, throwing them across the room in his rage.

The image of you shackled to the wall of this dark room, consumed with thoughts of ending your life kept him on his knees, forced his arms to support him as he crumpled to the ground completely. His modulator crackling with the heavy breaths.

Surging up, he activated bright flames to flow from his vambrace. Intent on tearing down the entire house to the last stud and beam. Cara was quick to retreat back outside, letting the man do what he felt was necessary. She stood behind him as he made his way outside, the structure entirely lit up and beginning to collapse in on itself.

Dark smoke whipped around in the breeze coming off of the nearby shoreline, doing nothing to quell the licking flames. Cara was doing her best to sooth an equally agitated child in the bad slung across her shoulders. Though she knew it would take time for them both to come back from seeing the evidence of your heavy past.

They watched as it turned from burning wood, the outer stone walls crumbling from the heat that had been trapped inside, to a pile of rubble and ash.

He knew it was against the Creed, that it was a sin to leave behind something of his people. But the beskar that had contained you glowed hot amongst the ash, left behind as he walked away from the plot of land and back to the ship.

“The holonet has little information on Maldovan. Citing that it’s a desert planet with white sands, crystalline oceans that bring in a lot of visitors.” Din announced as he exited the control room, the ship constructed of only that and one other room off the hold space. One level, but enough for them to be comfortable traveling. Cara had tried to get Din to retire to the room once they returned to the ship and left K’ath behind, but he had insisted he was fine. Though the door to the cockpit had been closed and locked for hours now, well into the trip since the ship had been jumped into hyperspace.

“And their walled city.” Cara added, as she brought up a hologram of the planet to life from her cuff. She had reached out to Karga, asking him for any aid he had to provide them on the place they were traveling to.

“Yes… and if her mother knows about you then it will be hard to make a plan. Your armor isn’t exactly common and I’m sure she’s told the royal guard to keep an eye out for you.”

“Haran.” He cursed, knowing Cara’s words were true.

Shit.

It was entirely possible, and he wouldn’t put it past the woman he personally knew nothing about, going off of the words of her that you had shared with him. But surely the only city on the planet wouldn’t go out of their way to screen the many tourists that sought out the picturesque world.

Time seemed to be moving slowly and far too fast all at the same time. Thoughts continued to consume Din, all the possibilities of what could occur, what had already occurred making him feel like he was a child once again who knew nothing of the world or how it worked. The ship’s system beeping before it shifted smoothly from traveling through hyperspace and back to sublight settings.

The planet in view was covered in vast expanses of white sand and bright blue. An ocean planet as much as a desert one. It was small, a moon to a larger planet visible in the sky even within the atmosphere as the ship descended. The only city was surrounded by a large wall, protection from the two outcroppings that looked to be a racetrack and the well-established tourist destination on either side.

Maldovan was known as a resort destination, an entire smaller sector off set from the main city. The sector looked to be abundant with hotels, spas, shopping, anything and everything to keep individuals occupied and a steady supply of credits flowing into the local economy.

Cara had suggested she be the one to guide the ship through the planet’s atmosphere, handle the communication with the intake group, and land the smaller ship into the hangar. She suggested he stay behind on the ship while she registered the ship, paying the station fee for several days. And when she returned, there was a frown on her face and a worried furrow to her brow.

The woman was frustrated, that much was obvious. Din merely watched her as she closed the ramp, turning to him and explaining what information she had gathered during the short interaction.

There were two glaringly obvious problems:

Everyone wore light, flowing coverings and outfits in order to gain access into the main part of the city.

And there were wanted posters depicting Din’s armored form.

previous chapter || next chapter

dividers: by the lovely @cafekitsune

taglist: @clevergirl74 @strawberri-blonde @js-favnanadoongi @littlemisspascal @moonknight-s-cumdump @bookloverkat @golden-mando @beskarandblasters @feral-ferrule @bearsbeetsbeskar @76bookworm76 @anoverwhelmingdin @sarap-77 @picassopedro @sawymredfox @jessthebaker @genetics4life @mosssbawls

#dev writes #fic: of beskar and kyber #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin series #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fic #din djarin pov #din djarin character study #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #star wars #star wars fanfiction #cara dune #greef karga #din and grogu #grogu #angst #bounty hunter din djarin #ao3 #ao3 fic #ao3 link #archive of our own #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom

[f10werfae]

Eyes Wide Open

pairing: Ari Levinson x Reader / Ex!Chris x Reader

Summary: After Chris cheated on Y/n, she falls into the arms of the local grumpy beefy mechanic, her new man Ari Levinson (Part 2 to blinded by lust)

Requests are open💌/likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Chris Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

It’d been 4 months since Y/n had seen Chris, having asked her friends to collect her things from his house, he was already out of sight out of mind. In fact sweet sweet Y/n had caught the eyes of another man, the town’s leading mechanic, Ari Levinson.

It was not known around the town what happened to Chris and Y/n, but they all definitely knew it was over when they saw Y/n spending all of her free time with her grump of a boyfriend, who only seemed to show any grain of happiness around her. She had him wrapped round her pretty finger.

“Sugar how are ya so perfect?” Ari said looking at his girl who was sitting on a hood of a car he was fixing, his harms on either side caging her in. His eyes trained on her reddish lips as she wiped the sweat and grease off his forehead. “Hmm I dunno, why are you so goddamn handsome?”

Thankfully with her left leg now fully recovered Y/n was able to go any and everywhere with Ari. You best believe before that he carried her everywhere, needing his little support bunny with him. “Why ain’t you sharing bun? C’mon and give me a taste”

Dressed in a white tank top and work trousers, the bigger beefier man opened his mouth, watching as Y/n shyly took her lollipop out of her mouth and put it in his. When Y/n first told Ari why she was single in the first place, that man saw red and not the pretty kind. How could someone absolutely break his woman? She was so delicate and fragile at the time that it broke his heart too.

“Does it taste good?” Y/n asked, her eyes twinkling at the strong sunlight from the open top roof, not complaining when she saw how her boyfriend was now getting a very luscious tan. “Yeah baby, tastes like you” He winked bending back down with his wrench to continue what he was doing.

“Excuse me, any service here?” A strong Bostonian voice said, one that Y/n could remember for the rest of her life. Not for the good reasons either “fuck I missed this” “Your pussy feels so good” Things she heard him say to another woman

“What’s up pal?” Ari said not even looking at who it was and wiping his hand onto his cargo trousers, his eyes sharpening when he finally realised who he was talking to. Chris stood there all smug, the breakup didn’t break his heart but it definitely broke his character. Around town everyone knew that he now tended to carry an attitude with him, feeling full of himself once he realised he was being shipped back off to Hollywood anyway.

“what do you want?” Ari spat out more harshly, Chris lifted up his hands in defeat,

“Jus wanted to speak to Y/n here, one last offer baby”

“What do you need with My woman” Ari said standing in front of Chris’ view of Y/n, who was still sitting on the hood of the car shocked to the roots.

“I’m off to film another series, and i’ll be gone this time, for a year or two. N’ I just need to know if this is us over, for real? If not I have an extra ticket here waiting for you, I can supply you with everything you want, unlike some people-“

“What’s that supposed to fucking mean big shot, just because-“ Ari lunged forward, only for a pair of arms to wrap around his chest to pull him back into her body.

“It’s over Chris, you can shove that ticket up your ass and leave, make sure you don’t accidentally give it to some other girl on the way out though” Y/n said passive aggressively, looking the other man up and down, a sense of disgust taking over her.

“Whatever you were an easy fuck to keep around for a while anyway, goodluck with that one Levinson, she wouldn’t even wanna settle down with me and we were together for ages. She doesn’t know what a man needs and wants in life, who knows maybe she can’t even have child-“

And that was it, Ari had lunged successfully this time, throwing one hell of a punch onto Chris’ face knocking him down onto the ground instantly. “You don’t talk about my woman, or any woman like that. Didn’t ya mother teach you any respect? Guess not. Now fuck off to wherever the fuck you’re going to”

Ari said turning around and heading back over to Y/n who was just staring at Chris who had now walked out of the mechanic shop, holding his hand to his definitely broken nose.

“You okay sugar? When you said he was a dick I didn’t realise how much a one”

“Are you okay? Your heart is pounding Ari, calm down you know i’m only yours, I’m not going anywhere. His words mean nothing”

“I know that sweet pea, but Jesus when he started talking about you like that I near killed him” Ari breathed out leaning his head onto her shoulder, her fingers running through the back of his hair to calm him down. His lips pressing multiple small kisses to her neck, causing her to laugh out of tickles,

“Ari stop it you big bear, you’re gonna make my stomach hurt”

“hmm n’ we can’t have that can we?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

2 Years since Chris had set foot back in town, and don’t get me wrong he was as successful as ever, but that didn’t change people’s opinions of him already. Walking into the local park to walk Dodger, Chris swears he near chokes on his coffee when he sees Y/n.

Not alone.

He’s surprised to see her with Ari’s arm around her waist, with him whispering into her ear, making her giggle and place a kiss onto his lips. A baby sitting against her hip, a baby boy, he thought wrong about her settling down.

Ari’s hand slips down to support Y/n’s clearly enlarged stomach, before bending down to kiss his son’s head, when his eyes suddenly meet Chris’. Both men nodded at each other without another word, Chris went on with his walk with a pang in his heart.

He was the one that wanted all that with Y/n and now she was the one that had it, and he still had no one. Heading back to the coffee shop, his friend Luke behind the counter looks at him confused, “Dude what the hell happened, you was in here ten minutes ago”

“I-I saw Y/n”

“Glowin ain’t she? Archie is the absolute cutest lil thing, did ya see she’s pregnant again? Swear Ari always says he can’t keep his hands off his wife-“

“Wife? They got married? When?” Chris asked furrowing his brows

“Man it was like a year and a half ago? Tell ya what match made in heaven-“ Before he could even finish his words Chris stormed out of the coffee shop,

“Dude you know he’s still into Y/n” Another worker said handing Luke dried glasses,

“I know but he fucked up, doesn’t mean I can’t talk about how happy I am for her” Luke said watching his friend storm down the street, back to his lonely home where no one was longer waiting for him.

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @ilovereadingfanfics @patzammit @pandaxnienke @stormcloudss @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @chrisevansdaughter @marvelgurl @cevansgurl @evanstanwhore @mirikusashes @taramaria @fdl305 @mysticfalls01 @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @mischiefsemimanaged @thereisa8ella @uwiuwi @bval-1 @diyabhanushali1 @angelmather1 @lastwandastan @ravenhood2792 @feltonswifesworld87 @bluebellsn @mdpplgtz03 @alexxavicry @alina02 @bookfrog242 @roofwitty779 @aerangi @s-void @oliviah-25 @nikkitc0703 @meetmeatyourworst @girl-of-multi-fandoms @imboredat2am @mansaaay @adoreyouusugar @annajustwrites @emvebee @ilovetaquitosmmmm @caps-shield1918 @xoxokiaraaxoxo @royalwriteroftheuniverse @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chrisevansangel @tinyelfperson @madebylilly @bxdbxtxh15 @tojisbabymomma @itsaylayay1213 @kimhtoo17 @mrspeacem1nusone @hatsparkle @wintasssoldier

#romance #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans one shot

[kingofanemptyworld]

Rin, identity issues, and the complications of being an isolated, alienated teenager

It feels sort of weird to say but I generally don’t head canon characters as having particular sexualities. Whatever people go for in fics is usually fine with me - gay, lesbian, bi, pan, something more general like queer. As long as it makes sense for the story they’ve built and the character they’ve shaped to fit it, I’m good. Unless you’re ignoring a canon LGBTQ+ sexuality, in which case, yeah, I’ll take issue with that.

But anyway. Rin.

I’ve got my personal ship for him (BonRin my beloved), but regardless of the pairing I see him as bisexual. He’s so open with his infatuation with Shiemi, and okay, sure, fandom likes to ignore the love interest in shounen for the most part because we’ve got gay ships to peddle. But I don’t see the point in that unless it really reads like it’s a front, or a result of a character suppressing themselves for one reason or another. And with Rin, I think it’s pretty clear his affection for Shiemi is sincere. You technically have the in-universe evidence of the demon that brought out his true desires to back that up, but even without it, Rin likes her. It’s complicated because of Yukio and Shiemi’s own inexperience with romance, and yet I never once doubt he really likes her.

That being said… he’s very appreciative of the guys in his life, too. (Peddling my gay ship here) Bon in particular, considering he’s often admiring how cool he thinks Bon is, that his haircut suits him whether it’s the blonde rooster look or the undercut. If you don’t want to see it as romantic interest, that’s your prerogative, but to me Rin comes across as seeing cool and cute as different traits he finds attractive (in Bon and Shiemi respectively).

I also think his bisexuality would fit neatly into his narrative struggles to “pass” throughout the early parts of the series. Rin has grown up as the neighborhood problem child, ostracized for being violent, and eventually he decides he’s fine with just his brother and his father — and the rest of the monastery, presumably — for company. (Except that’s absolutely not true and clearly he’s starved for friendship and support.) People looked at him and saw a monster, even before his demonic heritage made an appearance; why would he bother giving them even more ammunition when it comes to reasons to hate him? So no matter when he figured out his attraction to guys, he’s not going to lean into it, because he also likes girls, right? (Ignoring for a moment that bisexuality is a lot more nuanced than that.)

Rin likes girls, Rin is human — that’s what’s going to get people to like him, or at the very least tolerate him. That he likes guys, that he’s half demon, he can shove that shit down and pretend it doesn’t exist. Lock up any stray thoughts and keep the sword sheathed around anyone who doesn’t already know.

(Excuse me for being amused by Rin wielding his humanity and supposed heterosexuality as a sword and shield.)

The problem, of course, is that he can’t keep up the facade forever. The narrative won’t let him. Rin has to embrace his demonic side, because it’s the only way to move forward and to continue to help his loved ones. And once he’s moved past the issue of his friends being upset over the deception, when they understand he’s still Rin despite what he’d hidden from them, Rin is finally allowed to be himself. He uses his flames, he lets his tail move freely in the open around the Cram School kids. Rin still doesn’t like this side of himself — it’s inextricably tied to every moment of pain and isolation he’s dealt with his entire life, including the death of Father Fujimoto (and, y’know, his mom). But he is moving forward, he’s trying to adapt.

And isn’t that some great fucking subtext for his bisexuality, too?

#king’s court #blue exorcist #ao no exorcist #okumura rin #rin okumura #bonrin #because I love them #anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk #I probably made more sense in my head than I did writing everything out #but oh well #there’s a similar conversation to be had about yukio and his suppression/obsession that develops #but I am not qualified for that one #also I promised myself when I made this blog that I’d try to be engaged with the fandoms I got into #because the one I’d sunk a lot of time and effort into on my main no long brings me much joy and I miss interacting with people #so. uh. here I am I guess #god this is probably less compelling than my season 2 analysis of bnha seven years after it aired

[pinkandpurple360]

If Stolitz is endgame 🥺 why is it so incredibly hostile to its protagonists verbalised feelings and his entire carefully crafted identity. The ship has been eroding the fabric of the series down to changing its whole genre to a melodrama because that’s what it takes to shift a villain to a pitiable malewife. Stolas makes Blitz a more violent, sadistic, and self hating person, he belittles and mocks his dreams in life too.

This was basically how Stolas handled Blitz telling him he’s sick of always being forced into sex, (rape) to keep his job alive, and Stolas pretending it can be the start of a relationship is fucking sick.

Haha. Yeah it was funny I suppose. When you come over next time you can verbally degrade me back daddy 🥰

I don’t like Stolitz pairing because I care about the happiness of the character Blitz. This pairing does not care about his happiness. It is punishing him for not giving into someone he doesn’t want, never wanted, and breaking down his integrity bit by bit each episode until he’s a shell who just smiles and cuddles and kisses with Stolas or makes cute baby eyes at his human form. It’s been this image since he was a tiny scared little boy being told a Goetia wants to buy him to be his playmate.

It is the equivalent of “yeah sure you say you don’t want it but what does your body say, why don’t you just stop pathetically resisting and submit to stolas”

The narrative ignores his constant, constant, verbalised protests and visible discomfort. Stolas makes him feel less than and everyone says “it’s all in his head because of his insecure inferiority complex”even though it’s fucking NOT ALL IN HIS HEAD. The plot sees his lack of consent as just a challenge. It’s ignoring what he apparently “really” wants ‘deep somewhere in his subconscious’ maybe and it is deadset on making every last episode a guilt trip about stolas being so lonely and oh so fucking sad. He needs blitz to be happy again. He deserves blitz to be happy again. He misses blitz so much he loves blitz. He’s so mean for not answering his every last call, why didn’t he come running? stolas is so helpless without his hero blitz. HE WILL DIE IF BLITZ DOESNT TEXT BACK!!!! oh sorry too much? No, not for this show.

No character ever, once, listens, acknowledges, or cares about the fact that Blitz doesn’t want this. Except for a deeply wasted vilified character called Striker, and potentially Asmodeus. Stolas abuses and demeans him as a lesser being holding his job over his head then Millie calls him his “boyfriend” 😍While he is explaining to someone he actually feels attraction to, that this is a very fucked up contract he’s forced into. But he’s not being coy or creating acover up story, this is literally.what.it.is. Moxie and Millie are winking and nudging in the back. Guys. Stolas put a cigarette out on Blitzs body, calls him an infantilising nickname, and calls him itty bitty. He speaks to him in baby voice because he’s an imp. Blitz is always fucking communicating this and I’m supposed to laugh, it’s ignored and he’s forced to anyways. Or implied “he does want this but just doesn’t want to admit it.” Even though he is always so open about who he finds hot and can never hide that fact. He fucking says ‘Ew’ as a child and ‘Ew’ as an adult.

Ohh He’s just pretending he finds Stolas ugly and creepy as fuck and that he always has been. He doesn’t desire stolas that way. Or any way. When hes told he’s bought out to be his friend he says “Ew”, when Stolas assumes he wants to ravish him, tells Blitz what he thinks his own feelings are he says “Ew” then fakes it. His father forced him to be around Stolas, despite his protests. He was under threat, to be his friend. His clown act is a performance, his friendship is a performance, his sex is a performance. He needed to do all of these things to fucking.survive.

#helluva boss #stolitz critical #mentions of SA #HBoss romanticising SA as a kink

[killmongerskeepermain]

Past Regrets // Shuri

Summary: You made a promise to T'Challa in the events of his secret illness. A promise you couldn't keep without hurting Shuri. If you could change the past, you would.

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warning: Angst // Fluff // Mentioned Character Death // My sorry ass attempt at angst lol // 

Words: 2.5k

Bendifuna usisi wam omdala - I needed my older sister.

A/N: As stated this is my sorry excuse for angst. Some of yall are GIFTED. Because yall be making me cry and shit! Lol

You remained still as you heard Ayo announce that you were home. You never thought you'd be back in Wakanda so soon. The phone call was brief but unpleasant. The king, T'Challa had passed on. The man you called your brother. The man who helped you in your dark times. The only one besides Queen Ramonda who understood your reasoning to leave Wakanda behind in the first place. He had requested you be there for the funeral. To console his mother and sister. Giving the Queen words of comfort was easy but Shuri? She will most likely shut you out immediately. After all, you didn't leave on good terms with the princess. 

"Y/N. We have arrived." Ayo spoke softly. She always treated you with respect. Even after falling out with your sister Okoye and your ex. Okoye was another thought that caused your stomach to drop. You haven't seen or spoken to her since you left 2 years ago. It was time to face them all as you felt the ship land. You slowly stood as the door opened revealing the soft smile of the Queen and the scowl of the princess. As you step off the aircraft Queen Ramonda was the first to welcome you with a tight hug. 

"Thank you for coming back my child." She smiled before you gave a small bow. You made no move to hug Shuri as you spoke to the pair. More so the queen. 

"My condolences to you Queen mother. Princess." You locked eyes with Shuri for a second before turning back to her mother. "I hope to offer comfort for your loss." She gave a short nod before motioning to Aneka to show you your room.

“She didn’t have to come back mother. We don’t need her here.”, You winced at the malice in Shuri’s hushed voice before the queen called out to you once more.

"I will be there to speak with you soon Y/N. It's good to have you home." She said as you followed the Dora to your old room. It was still the way you left it. Nothing had been moved out of place. 

"I was expecting my room to have been changed into a place where Shuri throws her old projects in." You said and Aneka shook her head. 

"Both T'Challa and the Queen insisted nothing be touched in case you ever decided to come back. You ran your fingers over the dresser before biting the bullet. "How's Okoye?" She let out a small sigh before giving you a wide smile.

"She's okay. She was supposed to accompany the family upon your arrival but asked me to come instead." You gave a short laugh as you sat on your bed looking up at the ceiling. "Sounds like her. Thank you Aneka." The Dora dismissed herself as you began to go through your bag, ugly memories flooding back, filling you with sadness.

// Flashback //

"What are you on about now Y/N?" Shuri asked you with her face buried in the sequence before her. Ever since Killmonger attacked a couple of years back she's been stuck in the lab doing any and everything she could possibly think of. Except get good rest and actually eat a meal. 

"Shuri you haven't left this lab in weeks. You have to rest for awhile sthandwa." You said in a soft voice but she waved you off. You were trying not to get upset as you watched her speed around the lab. "Shuri I'm serious. Your mother is worried about you. And T'Challa wishes to see his sister more." While it was true you also wished you could tell her the full truth. The truth is T'Challa now has an undisclosed illness. He doesn't want to tell Shuri because of how she'll react. All you can do is try to push her to spend all the time she can with him. As neither you, his mother or he knows when the time will come. "They can easily walk in here if they want to see me so badly."

"After everything that has happened don't you think you should be with them more? Killmonger? Thanos? You all lost so many years after that. Goes to show anything could happen and you all should spend quality time." You said and she froze before throwing her tablet down on the table.

"And how would you know? You didn't get snapped away!"

"No but I had to deal with the loss of all of you! I had to live here while you all were gone! Don't make this seem like I was affected. I just want to help!" You shouted as she was in your face now. 

"I don't need help Y/N! Why try to fix what isn't broken? Everything is fine. Everyone is fine. We don't need a family therapy session." She spat and you dropped your shoulders in defeat. 

"I'm just saying anything can happen, Shuri." You spoke as she turned her back to continue working. You looked up at the ceiling to keep the tears from falling down your face. You didn't want to tell her why you pushed so hard for them to spend time. Not during a fight. But it was now or never. "I'm leaving Wakanda." She spun on her heels as you stared at the floor not wanting to see her reaction.

"This is not a time for jokes Y/N." She said and your eyes found hers. Disbelief floating around her orbs and you bit your lip. Realization crossed her features when you didn't respond and you swore you saw a flash of anger quickly replace it. "Seriously. You're leaving me." You didn't want her to think that way and opened your mouth to speak before the door to the lab opened as Okoye entered. 

"You two can be heard all the way down the hall. Can you just make up and relax?" She questioned before looking between you. You avoided Shuri's stare as she burned holes through your face. "What is going on?"

"Go ahead Y/N. Tell her." You sadly sighed as you were put on the spot. You had planned it out how to let everyone down gently. Including Okoye. "Tell her! What are you scared of your big sister now?" You tilted your head at her outburst before Okoye stood in front of you. 

"I'm leaving. Leaving Wakanda for awhile." You mumbled and she went rigid as you searched her face for a reaction. Anything. But it seems she was still in her Dora Milaje state as the princess was present. It hurt.

"Since you're leaving, Okoye will see you out." Ouch

"Shuri-"

"You've said enough now, get out. Go enjoy your life. You won't be missed here." You turned to your sister for help but she stood tall without as much as a word. You scoffed at the two before exiting the lab with haste not bothering to look back. 

// End of Flashback //

And you haven't turned back until now. A soft knock interrupted your thoughts and you turned to see Queen Ramonda with a smile on her lips. She scammed your face and could tell you were having an internal battle with yourself. Without a word she pulled you into a hug rubbing your back with words of comfort. "Everything will be alright Y/N." 

"I'm supposed to be comforting you remember?" You laughed and she rubbed your arms. 

"I think it is best if you talk to her. Maybe it will do you both some good."

"Some good? She's probably going to ignore me until I force her to talk. After our last fight, I'm sure she doesn't want anything to do with me."

"I beg to differ. She still isn't aware of the reason you left. Her brother never got the chance to tell her." She said and you felt your body freeze up. She still just thinks you just up and left. You gave a small nod as she kissed the top of your head before moving to leave you to your thoughts. You couldn't find the strength to move from your spot as you tried to think of what to say. 'Hey I'm sorry I left but you needed to hang out with your brother before he died?' Sounds like the perfect icebreaker. Pushing your braids out of your face you gathered your courage before making your way to the lab. Your palms started to sweat as you balled your fists trying to calm your nerves. Upon entering you lowered your eyes to the ground, hearing all the commotion around you. Then you heard her. 

"It's simple really. But I'm sure you tried your best." She spoke to a scientist before she turned to walk the other way. Her being froze when she met your gaze and you bit the inside of your cheek. "Is there something you need?"

"No I'm just-"

"Then you have no reason to be in my lab." She spat and you sighed. She's still mad. Why wouldn't she be?

"Princess if you just hear me out." You tried to reason with her before she dropped her things and turned to look at you. Memories of your last fight came rushing back but you held your ground, refusing to be intimidated. She grew taller and now stood over you but you had a promise to keep. 

"There's nothing for me to hear. You said what you had to say the last time you were in here. Now leave." She said with authority in her voice, leaving you a bit irritated. "Now you're hard of hearing? I said leave."

"I am not one of your scientists, Shuri. You will NOT speak to me as such. So stop acting like a child and let's talk." You retorted, dropping all formalities as she held an unreadable look in her eyes. 

"Leave us." She said in a low voice before all of the scientists scurried out of the room. "You have some nerve."

"Oh I have plenty. But I made a promise to your brother to be there for you and Queen Ramonda. And I plan to keep it whether you like it or not." Your words held her attention and she stood a few steps away from you. You held her stare before another familiar voice spoke out to you. 

"I can hear you both all the way down the hall. Can we not talk in a civilized manner without going at each other's throats?" Okoye scorned and you lowered your gaze to the floor. Even after not seeing her for years you still felt intimidated by the older woman.

"We were just talking." Your words came out mumbled and Shuri scoffed.

"Now you're afraid of your older sister? What happened to all that nerve Y/N? You had so much of it when you got up and left. Left your home. My mother and brother. Okoye. You left me." She spat in your face and you swear you could hear your heart beating through your ears.

"But I had a good reason. You'd know that if you'd just listen to me." Shuri threw up her hands as she turned away from you. She was done with the conversation and won’t even listen to your reasoning.

"T'Challa wanted to give everything he could to everyone before he passed. Nakia, Queen Ramonda, you! He chose to suffer in silence so he could make that happen." You were trying so hard to keep it together in front of them. "His last hope for me. He wanted me to finish my education back in the states. Finish where I left off before he became king. He felt bad for me having to pause my education. He wanted me to make something of myself and then come back here to stand by your side! I was supposed to graduate BEFORE he died." You had tears rolling down your cheeks as you let out all the pain you held in your body. "You think you were the only one who was hurting?! He told me he was sick and to keep it to myself until he told you himself. I was going to tell you anyway but you were just so angry and unreasonable that day I said I was just leaving. I didn't want to tell you while we were fighting! I didn't want to leave but I respected T'Challa's wishes because he treated me like I was part of the family." 

"Y/N maybe we should-

"And you! After everything I begged you to help me figure out how to talk to her before I left. But you kept saying the princess had things to do or the princess is busy. The princess did not need distractions. You never understood how I felt! You were always in Dora mode! Why do you think I don't talk to you!" You screamed as she stood tall but you could see tears starting to form. Her mask was failing.

"I didn't need the General of the Dora Milaje to tell me what to do! Bendifuna usisi wam omdala!"(I needed my older sister!) The words slipped past your lips in  Xhosa and Okoye let the tear fall down her face. "I needed my sister. I needed you! And you both pushed me away." The silence that engulfed the room became too much for you to handle so you quickly thought of a way to run and hide. Something you were used to doing. You wiped your face before fixing your composure. "I'm sorry for bothering you princess." 

You turned on your heels leaving the two in silence as you went back to your room. You walked over to the balcony and leaned on the railing. The wind breezed past you and you let your eyes close to take in the comforting feeling. You felt your body sway a little as you thought back to simpler times. Times where you and Shuri would pull limitless pranks on T'Challa. Having dinner with the family. Okoye giving you sisterly advice. Your first kiss with Shuri. Letting out a sigh you felt a presence behind you and turned to see Queen Ramonda standing with her hands intertwined. 

"My apologies for interrupting you dear." She smiled as she joined you outside. "Ayo informed me of your conversation with Shuri."

"Wouldn't call it a conversation. More of a screaming match. And I did most of the screaming." You said as you found yourself in her motherly embrace. "I didn't mean to yell. It's like something snapped and I couldn't hold it all in anymore."

"It's alright child. I'm not angry with you. Honestly I'm happy you let it out. Give Shuri some things to think about." 

"Queen mother. Maybe it was a mistake coming back." You whispered and she gave a soft smile. 

"There are no mistakes. But if you feel as if this is not for you, I'll get the jet prepared to take you back home." She rubbed your arms and you shook your head. 

"I promised T'Challa I'd give my support. To both you and the princess. It hurts, yes. But I won't break that promise. It's the last thing he wished for me." She gave a small nod. Her silence was deafening but deep down you knew she understood. She understood everything. “I’ll stay. But I’ll make sure to be out of the way. I won’t cause any more trouble.” Ramonda gave a short scoff as she hugged you tighter. A familiar warmth washed over you as you brought your own arms around the Queen. A warmth you refuse to let go of a second time.

#letitia wright shuri #poc reader #princess shuri #queen shuri #shuri #shuri black panther #shuri fanfiction #shuri fluff #shuri imagine #shuri udaku #shuri x reader #shuri fic #shuri x y/n #shuri x you #shuri of wakanda #black panther #shuri angst #shuri x black!reader #shuri x fem!reader #shuri x woc!reader

[plague-of-insomnia]

I ship sebaciel but I only like their dynamic, in my head I imagine an adult Ciel and I only read fanfics when Ciel is way over 18 and can decide by himself/not be manipulated. I was raped when I was 15, I could never ship something like that. But anti pro shippers never bother to see the nuance. I'm afraid if I start publicly shipping it, people will call me a pedo lol Also I think that the ones who like the age gap still can't be compared to real pedos who consume lolicon/ realistic drawings who REALLY resemble children and explicitly are in a setting of a child being molested. I see incels doing that, and the kuro fandom is mostly women.

Hi, anon. Sorry I didn’t reply yesterday. I had COVID a couple weeks ago and now have bronchitis and i just ran out of gas to formulate a response I felt this ask merited.

First of all, I’m sorry that happened to you. I hope you’ve been able to get past it enough that it doesn’t affect your daily life too badly 🫂.

Sadly, a lot of antis act as if they’re the only ones who have been victims of (sexual) abuse, and that any survivor who doesn’t behave the way they do either must be lying or “deserved” what they got— which is absolutely awful to do to anyone.

As I’m sure you’re aware, we’re not a monolith. Some survivors find rape play (whether role play or in fictional works) helps them move past their trauma because it helps them to have the control they didn’t have as victims. But others find it triggering and upsetting and not helpful at all— and that’s valid too.

I personally don’t ship sc anymore mostly because I just don’t click with Ciel in the ship the way I do with other pairings. I also personally get very very uncomfortable with some underage depictions. For example, there was a fantastic sc fan fic a few years ago that I had to stop reading. It is one of the best written works in the fandom, but it just made me so uncomfortable (it’s underage) I had to stop.

But what did I do? Did i leave the author an angry message saying I was not gonna read it? No, ofc not. I just clicked away.

So if for you, you need situations in which you feel Ciel can fully consent/is in control to feel comfortable and happy then that’s perfectly valid! There’s no one “right” way to ship anything, and you have to look out for yourself first. Because we come to fandom to have fun and escape, so no need to delve into things you don’t like or that make you uncomfortable.

Antis are incapable of seeing these kinds of nuances, or realizing that purposefully consuming content that upsets you is self harm.

Sadly, if you openly ship sc (or even aren’t absolutely against it) you may get some hate. I know I have gotten my share, and it’s *always* about Ciel, no matter how I’ve depicted other characters or what ages they are in my stories. But I’ve also gotten hate for being a fujoshi (misgendering me at that) more than once, and some of it even before I joined the fandom… for my original work.

My point is that people are gonna attack you if they’re gonna attack you…. if you’re not willing to take that risk by being public about your ship that’s valid too. I definitely get how exhausting antis can be and if you’re just wanting to stare at your blorbos for a bit you don’t wanna be fighting of negativity left and right too.

It’s a shame that antis have started using the word pedo as a word for anyone they dislike, devaluing it, but the real shame imo is that they refuse to see that actual CSEM is bad not because it’s gross or immoral but because it harms actual children, who grow up to be adults with trauma.

I think it’s very important to distinguish actual CSEM (or “fictional works” that were intentionally modeled off real CSEM) from anything that’s purely fictional. Because you can never really know why someone made something or why someone likes something.

I write about child abuse, sexual and not, a lot because I find it very therapeutic, but someone might read my works and may draw other, completely erroneous conclusions about me and my motives.

I honestly think a huge chunk of the kuro fandom is nonbinary, but I don’t really know the demographics. I’m sure they’re slightly different depending on if you’re looking at the western or eastern fandoms…

But women can be toxic just like anyone else. Some of the absolute most vile antis I’ve seen identify as female.

Ultimately, I think that the best thing to do with the fandom (or any fandom, really) is to curate your experience. Block accounts that trigger you or don’t vibe with you. Find like-minded friends to chat with in private, so you don’t have to worry about strangers hopping on what you say. Filter tags and use apps if you need to.

I think it’s a shame that antis are so vocal in the fandom and have divided it so much. As a multishipper not much into sc, I have definitely felt that fracture more than some others, since sadly too many non-sc shippers think they need to scream about how icky that ship is and be jerks when we could just ignore sc entirely and enjoy the other ships we like instead together?

But the no matter what antis claim, sc shippers have always been and will always be the column that holds the fandom up, and you either need to make peace with it or learn to ignore it.

🫶

My ask box is open for anyone who doesn’t feel comfortable being open about their love for kuro but would like to squee over it/the new series with someone who doesn’t mind listening :)

#sorry for the long ramble #i hope i made some sense #poi answers #black butler #anon #fandumb #tw csa mention #tw child abuse mention #tw rape mention #sebaciel #antis dni

[danvillecheese]

why do u think act ur age is fucked

[cracks knuckles] alright. essay time. you asked for it.

I’ve done a similar response to this before here and mentioned something else about it here but I’ll go over it again since those posts are both from a while ago. also bear in mind I haven’t seen aya recently bc I don’t like it. okay let’s get into it

[also im gonna preface this saying maybe i sound very pessimistic but im ranting and its just gonna sound like im complaining because i am. i mean no real malice by the way. im simply a person with a blog.]

first off. they don’t use the show don’t tell as well as they could. in the what might have been montage, sure, they showed potential scenarios and how phineas felt (very briefly) when isa stopped visiting his backyard but it just feels so rushed. I get that they only had like 11 minutes to show it but idk there has to be another way to write it. or just not have it at all idk its just from a writing point of view the whole episode feels rushed and out of place from everything else continuity-wise. why not use little easter eggs planted in the show beforehand? operation crumbcake? pharmacists? meapless in seattle? god theres so many episodes with evidence that phineas liked her back even if he didnt know. just. continuity!!!!

second. why did their friends not try something sooner. it’s not like they didn’t know. like phineas seems to be okay with saying “i wish! i am so in the friend zone there” in front of his friends (that quote alone makes me lose my shit but that’s a whole other point) so clearly they knew about phineas. and isabella also wasn’t quiet about it (source: pnf s1-4). they had like four years of high school to do something and they planned it the day isa left for college? nah its just the least realistic thing ever for me. also them being 18 is like yeah okay maybe the slow burn was worth it and theyre way more grown up (i love a good slowburn) but ohhhhhh my god SURELY their friends were getting sick of them dancing around each other. just me?

third. and I’m sorry to ash simpson but oh my god I hate the character designs like They Would Not Fucking Look Like That. it almost feels like it completely disregards their arcs during the original summer. like yeah child chub disappears over ur teen years but sometimes it stays a little longer! make phineas less twiggy!! make isa look more like her mother! (am i about to redesign them again? whoops)

four. and i know this is no fault of dan and swampy but the show was about to end anyways and yet the entire friend group was paired off into hetero ships?? get fucking real. none of those kids are straight. realistically, i know it was a different time and gay marriage wasnt even legal in the us yet so it wasnt all that common to have queer romance on screen let alone on disney channel but like i said, the show was about to end. what were the disney channel execs gonna do? cancel it? lmao

five. "I am so in the friend zone there." "we are guys. we do not talk about our feelings." WHAT!!! i cant believe this shit is real. these lines of dialogue are canon. what the hell. what kind of message does that even send to younger, impressionable viewers? if ur a 10 year old boy watching that (ok fine maybe that isnt gonna stick with you forever but listen) and you go 'oh its okay to just bottle everything up and not tell my friends about my feelings about anything ever' that is insane! thats not how things should go!! like i get the whole "im so in the friend zone" and yes, this also has to do with the era but like if they wanted to be a more progressive cartoon that kids look up to and enjoy maybe they just. shouldn't have put that whole conversation in.

i barely have any problems with the b plot. in fact id watch the episode just for the kazoo solo. because that plot lines up with the continuity. i can totally see heinz having bowling night with perry and carl and monogram every week! i can totally see perry and monogram retired! and carl running owca and getting payed for it! that all checks out! that one makes sense and works with the canon! if they got that plot so right how did they get the a plot so wrong?

i can answer this question: fanservice. its an awful word, i know. act your age is a fanservicey episode which is why i think it crashed and burned. mml season 2 is rooted in the same issue: doof is very present and takes away from the original plot of the show. like, the one he wasnt even in until the last episode of s1. slightly getting off topic but it is the crux of the issue. fanservice doesnt make for good storytelling. even if it brings in the big bucks. at its core, telling the story the way it should be told is the best one. even if it pisses people off. a good portion of the viewers will still appreciate whatever ending the creators come up with. and no, im not saying phinbella shouldn't have become canon, in fact i really like the ship and all their dynamics, i just think they went about it the wrong way.

as someone who's written and published fic about them getting together in different universes (granted, they were from when i was younger so its mildly terrible. take them with a grain of salt) there are a lot of other ways to tell that story canonically. honestly, i think the best way of doing it was to keep it ambiguous. dont tell that story. let the viewers pick their own ending for phineas and isabella. maybe they dont get together after all. who knows!

thanks for the ask! hope you had fun getting lectured <3

#phineas and ferb #phinbella #act your age #ask #this was fun you guys should ask me more stuff like this #dwampyverse analysis

[misssakurapetal28]

Hello! I’m Currently Open For Commissions!

Due to recent irl events, I am now for the time being accepting commissions! Here are the examples:

Lineart - $10

Colored (no shading nor background) - $20

Colored with Shading (no background) - $25

Colored, with Shading and background - $30

$5 each to add extra characters

$3 extra for full body

Please read the Rules & Conditions first!

I will not start your commission(s) until I receive your full payment!

I need a description AND references of what you want me to draw. Just send it to me at my main account @misssakurapetal27!

If you're requesting an OC, please give me a reference of them.

I MIGHT do NSFW art, but it's ENTIRELY based on what it is. With that said, PLEASE DO NOT commission me NSFW art if you are a minor or under 18+! If you do this and I find out that you're a minor, I will decline your commission and I WILL block you!

The max number of commissions that I'll receive from each customer is 3 (three).

Please, DO NOT pay me until I confirm your order! After I do so, I will note you, message you or DM you privately through my email or account.

Me finishing your commission(s) is highly dependent on my schedule. So it will take me at least 1 month to get it finished. If I don't meet this deadline and you don’t wish to wait any longer, then you are owed your right to a complete refund.

Please keep in mind that I have a schedule and real-life matters to deal with, so sometimes things are going to come up that might slow the progress of your commission. You are entitled to a refund after a month, but please give me time.

At this point in time, I will accept payments through Paypal and ONLY through Paypal. I also prefer USD (US currency).

If ANY rules are broken, I have the right to decline your offer. If you come at me aggressively, I will block you on the spot.

I WILL do:

Fanart of any game, show, movie etc., even if I haven't heard of it! However, I do prefer media that I HAVE at least heard of. It increases the chances of your commission being done early.

Any character, that includes OCs.

SFW most definitely.

Ships/Pairings/Couples, even if it’s one’s that I don’t like.

Any LGBTQIA+ art of any kind. That includes Male x Female, Male x Male and Female x Female pairs. Poly is also included.

I MIGHT do (we'll discuss privately):

Animals & monsters. I'm still getting use to drawing them.

NSFW. It depends on what it is and how explicit it is. At best, it will be VERY mild.

Furries & Anthros.

I WON'T do:

Pedophilia or child porn of any kind.

Zoophilia/Zoosadism or Bestiality of any kind.

Hate art, bigotry or discrimination of any kind.

Misogny, incels, toxic masculinity, toxic femminity, or alpha/beta males of any kind.

Fetishes

Political or Religious Propaganda

Finale Note:

Due to Tumblr's guidelines, some (if not) all of my possible NSFW commissions will just be sent directly to you. SFW Art I will post and send to you.

I will not take any free request nor art trades. Prices are also NON-NEGOTIABLE. Ask me for those things once and you’ll get a warning! Ask for those things again and you will be blocked!

If you have any more questions or concerns, DM me at or note me @misssakurapetal27 for more!

Media that I know of:

Miraculous Ladybug

My Little Pony Friendship is Magic

Equestria Girls

She-Ra

Pretty Cure

Sailor Moon

Hellva Boss

Hazbin Hotel

Rise of the TMNT

Like I said however, I will do any series 😄

#commission #digital commisions #commisions open #commision info #taking commisions #art commisions #drawing commisions #commissions #misssakurapetal27 #miraculous ladybug #ml #miraculous #equestria girls #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #tmnt #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #ladybug

[babybubastis]

Ok. We need to talk about this.

⚠️ (Spoilers for Black Panther: Wakanda Forever below!)⚠️

.

.

.

.

.

It’s incredibly disheartening (and somewhat alarming) that there seems to be no room in fandom for any kind of nuance. I’m going to talk specifically about the Black Panther fandom and what I’m seeing/experiencing occur between Shuri x Namor shippers and some other users in the fandom. There are users on here who are, unprovoked, actively tagging and seeking out and harassing other fans for shipping the pairing. Real quick, a little personal context: for those of you who don’t know, I’m black. It has been especially demoralizing to see this type of activity occurring between black women in the fandom. I’ve seen the blackness of some fans who ship Shuri x Namor be called into question. I’ve seen fans be called clowns, and anti-black, and sick, and all manner of things. And I guess my question is: Why?

Why, as a black woman in fandom, am I not allowed to love a particular black female character, and also ship her with another character without facing harassment? Those two concepts — 1) caring for Shuri as a character and 2) wanting to see her courted and desired by the attractive (admittedly toxic) male antagonist — don’t have to be mutually exclusive. IT CAN BE BOTH. And that, contrary to some people’s beliefs, does not make me a bad person.

Wakanda Forever is a complex and beautiful masterpiece, teeming with commentary about colonialism, anti-blackness, white supremacy, grief, anger, vengeance, religion, mother-child relationships, and so much more. Why is it impossible for me, as a complex person who has complex interests, to want to talk about those more serious topics AND gush about Shuri’s interactions with the charismatic antagonist who treats her as an equal? There is clear romantic subtext in Namor’s early interactions with Shuri. The entire sequence where Shuri is in Talokan reeks of Hades/Persephone, as well as other classic romantic tropes and gestures:

Namor allowing Shuri to be brought to his hidden underwater civilization,

Him commissioning a beautifully ornate custom dress for her to wear,

Him telling her about his history and giving her his dead mother’s bracelet,

Him happily showing her around his hidden kingdom

It was all very calculated on his part, I’m sure, in an attempt to win her over to his side. But there was also obvious chemistry between he and Shuri. Hell, Riri even spells it out for us, comparing the entire gesture of giving her the custom dress to Beauty and the Beast! So it is not nearly as far-fetched as some people want to claim to ship these two, to be intrigued by their dynamic. And it is entirely possible to be just as intrigued by that as it is to be moved by the bigger, deeper, more serious concepts explored in the movie. Again, those things aren’t — and shouldn’t— be mutually exclusive. To claim otherwise is doing a disservice to the entire film as a whole, and it’s doing a disservice to Shuri as a character. She is a grown woman, complex and broken and messy. This entire movie, while being a gorgeous and poignant tribute to Chadwick Boseman, was also very much Shuri’s story. Letitia herself said in a recent interview (that she did with Tenoch Huerta) that she loved this film because the audience is really getting to see Shuri explore her womanhood and maturity.

Shuri is no longer the precocious, quippy 18-year-old that we saw in the first Black Panther. Her character arc is extremely dark in this film. She loses, again and again. We see her express rage. We see her be stubborn, we see her grieve, we see her break, we see her hopeful, we see her stepping out of her comfort zone to save Riri and to save her people. We see her succumb to vengeance and then turn around and choose mercy. There is a wealth of complexity there just bubbling under the surface, and, like the audience, Namor is clearly drawn to her. He sees something in her that mirrors something in him. It is no coincidence that they both see their mothers in that final fight scene before Shuri commands him to yield. And it is no coincidence that, when Shuri’s mind is flitting through the recent sequence of events that led up to that final battle, she sees her mother’s drowning reversed, and right after that she remembers Namor smiling as he told her about his history and his people. She remembers that, underneath the terrible things he has done, he is a human being who does everything he does for the love of his people. I have no doubt that Namor was being calculating and manipulative in regards to Shuri. He saw the chance for an alliance with her and wanted to make it work. But he also clearly connected with her on a personal level. If that weren’t true, he would have either killed her or imprisoned her the second she rejected his proposal in that cave to join him in destroying the surface world. Instead, when Shuri stated that they needed to find a peaceful way to resolve their issues, he sat and was prepared to listen (until they were interrupted by Namora alerting him to Ramonda’s summons).

It’s so clear that Namor was drawn to not only Shuri’s intelligence and strength and wit and compassion, but also to her beauty and charm and passion. Namor is the first person we see treat Shuri as a true equal — as a fully-capable, formidable counterpart. Is it so wrong to be intrigued by that? To want to see Shuri come into her own in every way and to also want to see her desired as a potential love interest? Are black women not allowed to be intelligent and complicated and powerful and desirable?

I could go on and on about Shuri and Namor’s interactions. But I will say this: were these any two other characters in any other movie, there would be no debate. The fandom at large would be salivating over the subtext and symbolism and tension and chemistry.

There are so many reasons why this ship has so many people excited. It’s the first time we’ve seen a dark-skinned black woman as THE MAIN CHARACTER in this franchise have any interaction that even hints at something remotely romantic. It’s a ship between a black woman and a Mexican man. And the most glaringly obvious reason: it’s a toxic mess. It’s unhinged, it’s chaotic, it’s explosive, it’s dynamic, it’s dark. It’s complicated and messy in a way we’ve never seen Shuri get to be. The tension and conflict and messiness of it all is what makes it so compelling. We haven’t gotten these types of multi-dimensional, complex character explorations in this franchise for a black woman before, not on this scale, not in this context, to this magnitude. OF COURSE in real life the dynamic would appalling, at best. But THIS ISN’T REAL LIFE. What so many fans seem to forget ( or ignore) is that fandom, and more specifically shipping, is supposed to be a safe space to explore all manner of complex concepts — good, bad, morally grey, relentlessly fluffy, despicably toxic, etc. — in a fictional construct where NO REAL PEOPLE GET HARMED.

Increasingly in fandom, I’m seeing this very black and white thinking, that you can only ship one thing or the other, think one thing or the other, feel one thing or the other. All nuance is thrown out the window. But the thing is, life isn’t that simple, and neither are human beings. People fall in love with people they aren’t supposed to all the time. People are messy and imperfect and toxic and complicated. People can experience emotions and hold ideas that are often in direct conflict with each other. So why do we ignore this, in fiction, of all places? Why do we demand that all fiction be sanitized and only portrayed in one way? The new, unwritten rule in fandom seems to be, if you’re going to ship, it had BETTER be the morally upright, fandom-approved ship, or else you MUST face the wrath of the fandom gatekeepers.

That is wrong, and even dangerous, on so many levels.

Let me be clear: you have every right to not like a ship. You have every right to be upset or appalled or triggered or disgusted or angered by a ship. But those emotions and reactions are YOUR responsibility and no one else’s. It is very easy on this website to curate your own experience. See a ship you don’t like? Block the user, the tag, blacklist it, whatever you need to do. Because that is the rational thing to do. Going into a ship’s tags in order to seek out users and posts that upset you in order to unleash your childish rage because you can’t be bothered to learn how to take responsibility for regulating your own emotions is infinitely worse than whatever icky ships you don’t like.

No one in this fandom is shoving this ship down your throat. We are in the tags, minding our business. We’re gushing about our favorite pairing, having silly discussions about headcanons and AUs, while also having deep and nuanced discussions about Shuri and her character growth, and about the deep themes explored in the movie and how it all interconnects. The sad thing is that I’ve seen really excellent takes about Wakanda Forever from certain users that I agree wholeheartedly with, only to then, several posts later, see them unleashing all kinds of unwarranted harassment and vitriol toward other fans simply for shipping Shuri with Namor.

At the end of the day, I can’t change people’s minds. I don’t care if you like or don’t like the ship. I DO care if you bully and harass and dehumanize me and other people because you don’t like the ship. Again: THIS IS FICTION. A lot of things that people explore and enjoy in fiction are not things we would ever condone in reality. There’s a certain catharsis in seeing characters go through toxic and even dark scenarios in a controlled environment such as fanfiction. But we understand very clearly that that is not okay in real life. I would urge those of you who are harassing shippers to please develop some critical thinking skills and learn to differentiate fiction from reality.

Fandom is supposed to be fun. Shipping is supposed to be fun. Shipping is not activism, it is not politics. And it is not supposed to be a vehicle for your own personal hatred, harassment and bullying (although it too often is).

If you’ve made it this far through my incoherent ramblings, I appreciate you. This may have no impact at all, and maybe no one gives a shit about my experience or my opinion. And that’s fine. I just felt the need to say my piece so that I can go back to shipping and writing in peace.

#black panther spoilers #black panther 2 spoilers #wakanda forever spoilers #black panther wakanda forever spoilers #black panther: wakanda forever spoilers #bpwf spoilers #black panther 2 #wakanda forever #black panther wakanda forever #black panther: wakanda forever #shuri #namor #shipping discourse #black panther

[fandomsoda]

Intro/pinned post!!!

last updated: 4/19/24

Ok Welp I’m finally making one of these-

Most basic info about me can be found in my blog’s about (names, identity, pronouns, DNI), but here’s where I’m putting all the other stuff! First of all, here’s my pronouns page for those who want to know more about my exact pronouns/word boundaries!

Here’s my sona, Soda!

Their full ref can be found here

Art usage rights: My art is fine to be reposted, but strictly with credit. Want to use it as an icon? Make it an edit or add something small for pfp purposes? You’re welcome to, but with permission, credit, clarification that you edited it, and as long as you’re not in my dni/use it for such purposes. Derogatory edits of my work are not permitted so don’t go marking everything up. Do not feed my artwork into ai software. Also do not directly feed my writing or own general text into an ai.

Requests?: Requests for art are a complicated thing and are simply a matter of what I do and do not want to do. Feel free to ask, but just know I may decline! This goes for moodboards and stimboards as well, but I’m much more likely to accept a mood/stimboard rather than art request!

AU/personal projects!: I have a handful of personal AU’s and projects and OC’s I’d like for people to check out and look at. (Also please please please ask about my characters and ask them stuff I wanna answer!) You are welcome to make fanart for any of them but I request that you stay on-model unless you are simplifying the design or the point of the piece is to reimagine the design/put the character into a new outfit. I don’t want to be overbearing but my designs mean a lot to me so I’d like them to stay how they are. People in my dni are not permitted to depict my characters in any way, shape, or form. Don’t touch my babies. Also- No, you may not use my characters in tournaments or polls. Those give me heavy anxiety and rsd to the point of literal nausea. Please keep your vile, Spartan popularity games away from my babies.

Personal projects masterpost

Additionally:

Please @ me in fan/inspired content! I want to see it!

I also know that I can often come off as aggressive and do stupid shit or say stupid shit. I have a lot of growing to do and I make a ton of mistakes. Please be patient and if you desire to call me out on by bullshit (which you absolutely should do) please be constructive and respectful. I struggle a lot with tone and accidentally upset people often. If I upset you, PLEASE let me know. I have no way of realizing if you don’t, please do not lie to me, tell me what’s wrong I promise I care and will try not to take it personally. =m=

Important note: While I may make suggestive jokes from time to time or touch vaguely on mature topics/talk about more mature media, this blog does not welcome nsfw blogs. Any and all interaction with me or my art that is nsfw in nature (inappropriate DM’s, comments, and reblogs) will be instantly blocked. We can joke, we can have fun, but I do not want any concerning behavior towards others or towards myself/my art on this blog. I know that many people who follow/are friends with me are minors and thus I will ensure that this space is not dangerous for them.

I also consume my media critically, even as a Homestuck enjoyer, I do not support Andrew Hussie and recognize the comic’s flaws, but I also love Homestuck for what it is at its core and how it changed my life. I also assume most people consume media critically and thus do not have any fandoms in my dni, but do know there are a good handful of them that I’m apprehensive about, but won’t block on sight.

On the topic of media consumption, I also like a lot of ships that others don’t, and will not tolerate hate. Crossmare has been my comfort pairing since long before Underverse season 2 was even out, and I am not ok with people who think it’s “inherently abusive”. As long as a pairing is not child x adult or family x family, I don’t believe it can be inherently abusive. As long as someone’s specific depiction of the ship isn’t abusive, they shouldn’t get flack for it. However, if you ARE someone who romanticizes abusive versions of these ships, please get out.

Also note that due to my nebularomanticism (arospec umbrella), I do not know what the fuck romantic love is supposed to feel like or look like, the lines between strong platonic bonds and romance are so blurry they barely exist for me, and such- all of my ships are queerplatonic in some way. I have never seen any ship as solely romantic and I don’t think I’m capable of that. But I also do not limit the types of intimacy I depict these characters having. If you’re not ok with queerplatonic kissing or holding hands or other forms of “romantic gestures” or if you think they can’t exist, get out.

Keep in mind that while my art and personal works ARE here, this blog IS a personal blog. I DO vent on here and often talk about personal topics. Be aware. Check the blog status below to know what situation is happening at the moment

Current blog status (important): tired and just. Trying right now, bare with me.

Below are many userboxes that represent me! Check em out for more info!

^ this user box specifically was made by @/ghostfish-stims!

^ More info on that here

[ak-vintage]

Quarry - Chapter 6

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Reader is Mando's bounty, second-person POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, unresolved sexual tension, pining, light angst

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

“Mando!” The rich, gregarious voice of Magistrate Greef Karga crackled through the Razor Crest’s communication channel, his wizened face pale blue and smiling from the holo-projector. “What a pleasant surprise! I didn’t expect to hear from you again until you returned to Nevarro. Which should be soon, I hope?”

Almost two standard months had passed since Din Djarin had departed his de facto home base, the worst of the damage done to the Razor Crest on his journey to Trask repaired at Karga’s expense and seven bounty pucks burning holes in his pockets. As his responsibilities to the growing settlement had increased, and as the prominence of Nevarro as a bounty hunter’s haven had decreased, the older man had been spending less and less time on his role as a Guild agent and more time steeped in political endeavors.

“I only have a dozen or so new bounties left, Mando,” he had admitted before Din left for Corvus. “And I don’t plan to accept any more in the coming months – my time is stretched too thin as it is.”

Through his signature mix of flattery and pragmatism, Karga had bid him to take at least half of them with him when he left.

“I didn’t reinstate your status with the Guild for nothing, my friend! I know I can rely on you to deliver on these assets as efficiently as possible. And, if what you say is true and you will be spending some time away reuniting your boy with his people, perhaps you will appreciate having a bit of extra income in the meantime, hmm?”

When he put it that way, Din hadn’t been able to refuse. It hadn’t been long ago that he and the child had been on the run from the Guild, burning through the Mandalorian’s meager savings on fuel and food and ship repairs. He had yet to be able to make up for that extended period of unemployment. And who knew how long it would take him to find the one and only Jedi that he had any leads on locating – the one that Bo-Katan had promised dwelled on Corvus?

At the time, it had felt like a wise financial decision. One last hunt for Karga. Seven bounties, all with generous prices on their heads.

Now, several weeks after landing on Corvus, locating the fabled Ahsoka Tano, and helping her free the oppressed city of Calodan, Din couldn’t help but feel even more grateful for the choice. With every step along this journey, he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the moment that he would have to part ways with the foundling in his care. He had expected for that moment to arrive when he found Ahsoka, but her instructions to take Grogu to yet another planet and to find yet another Jedi had unexpectedly brought the bounty hunter a measure of relief.

He had more time with the child. And if he chose to prolong that time by using it to hunt down these half-dozen bounties before he ferried Grogu to the temple on Tython, that was just a good business decision.

Except now, it wasn’t only Grogu he had bought himself more time with. Now, he had a troublesome starship engineer to worry about, as well – taking up space in his ship and in his mind and in his bunk.

And something about you just wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Yes,” Din replied, nodding once. “I’m headed there now.”

Karga beamed at him from across subspace. “Wonderful! A successful hunt?”

“Of course.”

“Ha!” The older man clapped his hands together almost gleefully. “I would expect nothing less. So, what can I do for you, my friend?”

The Mandalorian weighed his words carefully before he responded. “I was hoping you might have some additional information about one of my quarries.” He said your full name then, for the first time since he had laid your bounty puck on the bar in your cantina. He hadn’t had much occasion to say it since, but he found he liked the feel of it in his mouth. It suited you.

Karga frowned slightly, and Din watched as he spun in his desk chair to pull his computer console closer to him. “Let me pull up her file… Hm. There’s not much here, I’m afraid. It looks like almost everything I have on her was loaded to the bounty puck.” He looked back at the holo-projector, making eye contact as best as he was able through the comm link. “Why do you ask? You can’t be having any issues tracking this one down, can you? I would have estimated her to be far below your abilities, Mando.”

“No issues. I have her in custody.” Din’s voice sounded tight and curt even to his own ears.

The magistrate’s brow rose in interest. “Then what’s the problem?”

The question lingered in the silence for a moment, and the bounty hunter swallowed thickly. “…I’m not sure. I just have a feeling,” he admitted. “I can’t figure out why someone would put a bounty out on her. My instincts are telling me that something about this is…wrong.”

He had given the issue little thought at the beginning. It had been just another day, and you had been just another quarry, remarkable only in just how far below his skill level you were – it had been impossibly easy to track your location, and with your lack of combat abilities, it had been even easier to capture you. It was why he had gone after you first out of the lot. He had known what a simple, cut-and-dry job it would be.

Over the last two months, however, it had become clear that you were anything but simple. You were brilliant, perhaps the most skilled starship engineer Din had ever met. The Razor Crest had never run so smoothly as it did with you onboard. For a pre-Empire vessel, it was almost unbelievable how many performance gains your work had managed to eek out of her. And you were gentle, with a soft heart and a tender touch. You nursed Din’s wounds with compassionate efficiency, treated his Creed with silent respect, and piloted his ship like one born to it. You cared for Grogu like he was your own, filling the Crest with your children’s songs, your instruction, your easy laughter.

And you were hiding so much. You never spoke of your past unless the situation required it. Din knew nothing about the circumstances that led to you leaving the Chardaan Shipyards. He knew nothing about why that departure would warrant someone issuing a bounty on your behalf. And in those moments that you came close to revealing any more about yourself than was strictly required, you swiftly navigated the conversation in another direction. For someone who prided himself on knowing everything there was to know about his quarries, it was maddening.

For someone who found himself growing dangerously closer to you by the day, it stung more than he cared to admit.

“You know as well as I do, Mando, that it’s not up to the Guild to question why a client would put out a bounty on an asset. Only to deliver it.” Karga’s gentle admonishment pulled Din out of his wayward thoughts. “In exchange for compensation, of course,” he added good-naturedly.

The Mandalorian bit back a groan of irritation. “Believe me, I know.” After a moment’s consideration, he asked, “Can you at least tell me who the client is? Who originated the bounty?”

The other man sighed, the sound buzzing through the comm link, but he offered Din a weary smile all the same. “Only for you, my friend. Let me see…” He tapped the screen on his computer console a few times, his eyes tracking through your file with practiced ease. “It looks like her bounty originated on the planet Chardaan by a man named Orron Halcard.”

Din frowned inside his helmet, considering this. Orron Halcard. “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

Karga shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. It’s certainly not a name I’ve ever seen before in the system.” He seemed to let that response hang in the silence for a second, and then he asked, “Anything else I can do for you?”

The bounty hunter weighed the offer, wondering if perhaps he was about to push the Guild code a bit too far. Ultimately, however, he knew himself well enough to know that he would feel more regret for not having said anything at all. “I have one more favor to ask,” he said.  

“Be my guest!”

“Can you get in contact with him and ask him to come pick up his bounty in person, on Nevarro?”

The warmth and indulgence with which Karga had been entertaining this conversation seemed to dissolve, and he regarded Din with serious eyes. “Now, why would he want to do that?” There was an edge to the question, a clear warning to word his response with caution.

So, Din chose to tell him a half-truth. “Because his bounty isn’t in carbonite, and she has a penchant for escaping high-surveillance areas. He may want to escort her back to Chardaan himself, to make sure she actually arrives.”

That was a legitimate concern, he reasoned. Karga did not need to know that you bafflingly had not attempted escape since that first chase out of the cantina.

For his part, the magistrate looked taken aback by this answer. “You kept her out of carbonite? You surprise me. What is it that you really want?” He brought a hand to his neatly-trimmed beard, stroking it pensively as he considered the impassive Mandalorian. After a few seconds, he paused with a frown. “You want to meet the man.”

Din did not respond but simply stared back at Karga through the holo-projector. He saw no need to confirm or deny this assertion. The magistrate was an intelligent man, and they had been colleagues for many years. He was one of the few people in the galaxy Din could consider a friend. He had no interest in outright lying to him.

When it became clear that he wasn’t going to get a straight answer, the older man demanded, “What exactly are you hoping to accomplish here, Mando?”

“Like I said. Something’s not right,” Din eventually repeated. “I can’t just…” He trailed off.

I can’t just hand her over, not like this, he had been about to say. But he knew that Karga would not take well to that admission. Instead, he said, “I need to look him in the eyes. I need to understand what kind of person he is.”

Karga sighed heavily then, massaging the pressure points on either side of his nose. When he looked back up at the holo-projector, his expression was hard with frustration. “I need you to listen to me very carefully,” he said seriously. “You are my friend and by far my best hunter. I was willing to move past your stunt with the child because of our long history, and because those damned Imperials were involved, but I will not allow you to put another exchange in jeopardy. It’s a bad look, both for me and for the Guild.” He pointed at Din sharply. “So, whatever it is you’re planning, you must promise me now – if I bring this Orron Halcard to Nevarro, you will turn over the bounty.”

Din released the breath he had been holding and inclined his head at the magistrate. “You have my word.”

“Very well.” Something in Karga’s posture eased, but his voice remained solemn. “Consider it done. He will be here by the time you enter the star system.”

“Thank you. I’m in your debt for this, Karga,” the Mandalorian promised.

The older man shook his head and waved dismissively at that. “Just…please. Don’t do anything stupid?”

Din smirked and permitted himself a small chuckle. “I’ll try. See you in a few days.” With one final nod, he flipped the comm link switch, and the holo-projector went dark.

___

You were sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bunk watching Grogu roll a small metal ball around the cargo hold floor, killing time until dinner, when Mando dropped down the ladder from the cockpit level with a metallic thud.

“Hey,” you greeted him, offering a small smile. It had been several hours since he had last emerged from the cockpit – once to clean his blaster, then again an hour or so later to use the privy. A part of you had wondered whether you would climb up there later only to find him slumped over, dozing in the pilot’s chair as he so often did.

“Hey,” he echoed. His voice was soft, with that gentle rasp that had become so familiar over these last weeks. “May I join you?” he asked, and warmth bloomed in your chest, both at the question itself and that he felt the need to ask it at all.

“Of course, by all means. We’re playing an absolutely riveting game, can’t you tell?” You gestured to the kid with a wry smile. Grogu cooed and grinned up at you both from his position on the floor.

A laugh filtered through Mando’s helmet modulator, and your grin broadened in response. “I can see that.”

You hopped down from your perch on the bunk. “I was just about to warm up a couple of ration packs for the two of us. You want one?” you offered, crossing over to the chilled storage locker.

“I don’t – ”

“ – eat in front of others, I know,” you finished for him. “It’s okay. I’ll sit over here and turn around.” You pointed to the gray storage bins, your second favorite place to sit in the cargo hold after the bunk. “No peaking at your face, promise.”

The Mandalorian cocked his head, appearing to consider your words. Despite the amount of time you had spent together at this point, the two of you had never eaten in the same room before. But something told you that as long as you were respectful of his privacy, the invitation wouldn’t be unwelcome.

At least, you hoped it wouldn’t be. Mando had yet to explicitly explain to you the rules regarding his armor and his helmet. Everything you had done over the last two months to accommodate his needs had been pure guesswork on your part, and all you had been able to deduce for sure in that time was that the helmet was a non-negotiable. Perhaps as long as he trusted you not to look, he might allow himself the luxury of letting his guard down enough to share a meal with you.

Just as you were about to offer to send him back to the cockpit with his food, however, he agreed. “Fine,” he said, his voice hesitant, but that didn’t stop the smile from splitting your cheeks.

“Perfect!”

You made idle conversation as you prepared the ration packs – this time some variety of fish in a savory broth with limp, green vegetables and a rehydrated biscuit. You peppered him with questions - whether he had finished cleaning his blaster, if he was noticing a difference in the air quality since you had turned the air recycler upside down and scrubbed it top to bottom, how the day’s navigation had gone, if there had been any major galactic anomalies to circumvent or other ships to dodge. He responded to each one briefly, with one or two-word answers, but you knew better than to ascribe any negative feelings to that. The Mandalorian was a man of few words. The fact that he was conversing with you at all told you that he was enjoying himself.

When the ration packs had sufficiently re-heated, you peeled back their metallic lids and passed one of them into his waiting hands. “Here you go,” you said. You gestured over your shoulder with your thumb. “We’ll go sit over there. C’mon, womp rat.” Grogu extended his little arms to you, and you swooped him up to balance on your hip. The two of you clamored up onto one of the storage bins, and you settled facing the rear exit, turning your backs to the bounty hunter.

“There, see? Can’t see your face, and you can actually have a hot meal for once. Everybody wins,” you said good-naturedly. Grogu squealed with joy as you passed him his meal, and you thought you heard a quiet, modulated chuckle from behind you.

“If you say so,” Mando replied. There was a hint of a smile evident in his voice, and suddenly you were grateful to be facing away from him so that he couldn’t see the color rise in your cheeks at the sound.

And then came a sound you had never heard before – a pneumatic hiss, followed by shifting fabric and a muffled, hollow thump of something heavy being placed on the thin bunk mattress.

You swallowed thickly, your mouth suddenly dry. He had done it. The helmet was off.

The silence that followed was tangible in the air. It felt as though you were both holding your breath, waiting for the other to break it, to acknowledge the monumental step that you had just taken. You may not have fully understood the man’s commitment to his anonymity or to his Creed, but you knew enough to know that you were perhaps one of a handful of people in the galaxy who had ever been in the same room as him with his helmet off, and you were keenly aware that all it would take was a glance over your shoulder, and you would finally, after months of wondering, know what his face looked like.

You were equally aware that doing so would be the height of betrayal, particularly considering that this whole scenario had been your idea. You would never do that to him, no matter how badly the curiosity burned in your gut.

The sound of silverware scraping across the bottom of the ration pack reached your ears then, followed by a soft hum.

“This one isn’t bad,” he said.

His voice was quieter than you had expected, as though he was attempting not to startle you. Your eyes drifted closed at the sound all the same, and you felt goosebumps break out on the back of your neck and down your arms.

Even without the interference of his helmet vocoder, his voice was warm, rich, and deep. You had always found him pleasant to listen to, but with that staticky, mechanical quality gone, it had left in its stead an inviting baritone that was down-right irresistible. Without even bothering to look at what you were grabbing, you scooped a bite of your meal into your mouth to stop yourself from doing something truly foolish, like moaning.

“‘M glad you like it,” you replied around your mouthful of fish. A bit caught in the back of your throat then, and you coughed into your fist as a fierce blush stained your cheeks.

“Are you all right?” Mando asked.

You coughed again but nodded vigorously. “Mm hm. Fine,” you managed, hoarse.

I’m a kriffing idiot, but yeah, I’m fine.

Desperate to direct the attention anywhere but yourself, you asked, “Did I hear you talking to yourself up there?” You gestured vaguely in the direction of the ladder up to the cockpit. Just before he had joined you in the cargo hold, you could have sworn you heard his voice having an extended conversation up there behind a closed blast door.

“No,” he said. You could hear his utensil dragging through his meal once again, and his next statement was delayed as he swallowed another bite. “I was communicating with my Guild agent on Nevarro.”

In that moment, the intrigue and the embarrassment of the last several minutes evaporated, and another heavy silence descended upon the Razor Crest. You glanced off to your left, where the bodies of six quarries hung suspended in time, frozen in an instant between two sheets of carbonite. He had told you weeks ago – he had six additional quarries after he captured you, a total of seven beings to take back to Nevarro to be distributed according to their bounties. You had lost track of how many were left to apprehend, but it seemed that there were…none. This lot was it.

He was finally turning you in. Your time was up.

You sat your meal down on the storage bin in front of you, suddenly losing your appetite.

“Oh,” you eventually uttered. “Guess that makes sense. We’re on our way back now, I suppose?”

“Yes.” You couldn’t discern anything from his voice – whether that fact made him happy or sad or angry. You wondered if perhaps he was indifferent about your inevitable departure. You wondered if the camaraderie, the respect, the…fondness you had developed for him over the last two months had really been one-sided.

You wondered if he would miss you, after he handed you over.

Instead of asking any of these questions, you instead asked, “How far out are we?” How many more days do I have before I have to go back to that place? Back to him?

“Three, four days,” he replied.

“I see.” You paused then, considering. “Before we land, I’ll put together a progress report on all of the upgrade projects I’ve been working on. There’s a few I won’t be able to finish before then… And one or two I didn’t get to start.” You could hear the hint of bitterness in your own voice as you spoke, and you fought to push it down. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t known this day was coming, and something about allowing the Mandalorian see how affected you were by this rankled.

You wanted him to think you stoic, unmoved. Brave, like him.

“If you want to show that report to Peli, she can take it from there. When…when I’m gone,” you added, trailing off a bit at the end.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

You nodded at the wall. “I know. But I want to. I’ve gotten…a little attached, I guess. To the Crest.” You reached over Grogu’s head, still bent over his dinner, and gently patted the nearest bulkhead. “She’s charming, in her own way. I want to make sure you have what you need to keep her performing her best.”

Mando didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. He eventually settled on, “That’s very generous.” His voice was thick with warmth, making him sound sincere and perhaps a touch melancholy. Perhaps he would miss you, after all.

A long silence stretched between you then, and you took the opportunity to bring your now-cold ration pack back up your face, scooping bite after bite into your mouth. You didn’t have a taste for it anymore, but you knew you would wake up in the middle of your sleep later with an angry stomach if you didn’t at least try to finish your portion, so you ate as quickly as you could to get it over with.

Grogu finished at the same time as you, announcing he was done with a small burp and a giggle. The sound broke the tension in the room, and you huffed a breath of laughter of your own as you scooped him into your lap to wipe his mouth with the back of your sleeve. All the while, you were certain you could feel the gaze of the Mandalorian on the nape of your neck.

“I can feel you thinking back there,” you said after a minute. “What is it?”

The bounty hunter sighed, and you could hear him shift to lean back against a bulkhead. He seemed to carefully consider his words before he spoke. “It’s been weeks since I captured you. And other than when I first found you in that cantina, not once have you tried to escape.”

Your eyebrows rose at that. “No, I haven’t,” you agreed.

“Why not?”

You looked down into your lap, occupying yourself with running your fingers through Grogu’s fine, white hair. “That’s a good question,” you admitted softly. “I’ve asked myself the same thing more times than I can count.”

“And?” he prompted.

You contemplated the question, chewing on your lower lip in thought. From the first moment Mando had left you with Peli Motto, you had questioned it. Why you weren’t running, why you weren’t plotting ways to escape, why you didn’t slip out and lose yourself in the crush of Mos Eisley or in the dense forests of Ryloth or in any of the other various places you had docked over the last two months. Now, you had officially run out of time – he was going to turn you in.

So why were you still here?

“I don’t know,” you said out loud.  

Mando made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded something like frustration, like dissatisfaction, at that response. “The girl I chased halfway across a major port city, who broke a whole cantina’s worth of liquor bottles over my head, who laughed at me when my carbonite unit busted would have stopped at nothing to get away. She would have found a way.”

His tone was accusatory, meant to inflame, but you couldn’t seem to muster any irritation in the face of the truth.

“Yes. You’re right.” You didn’t even try to deny it.

“What changed?” he demanded, and you scoffed humorlessly.

“I wish I could tell you,” you said with a shrug. “I definitely thought about it. Several times when we were on Tatooine. A few times when you were out on a hunt. But…I guess I always came up with a reason not to.”

“Such as?”

“At first?” You shrugged and stared at the rear blast doors. “I think…I didn’t want you to get angry at Peli. I liked her, and at the time, I didn’t trust you not to take it out on her if I got away on her watch.” You thought you heard something close to a chuckle at that, but you continued. “And then it was the Razor Crest. I haven’t had the opportunity to get my hands on pre-Empire technology in years, and it’s been even longer since I’ve been able to do restoration work. It was more rewarding than I expected.”

“Restoration work?” Mando echoed, incredulous.

You smirked in spite of yourself. “Hey. This thing has got to be well over 30 years old by now. That makes it vintage. Repairs on vintage starships are considered restoration. That’s just how it works.”

The bounty hunter sighed loudly, and you swore you heard him running his gloved hands over his face in exasperation. “‘Vintage,’ she says,” he muttered under his breath. “Not kriffing ‘vintage.’ We’ll come back to that.”

Laughter bubbled up in your chest, and you allowed it to spill over, permitting yourself the moment of good humor. “Sure, Mando. Whatever you say.”

You sobered up a bit then before continuing, “But most of the time, when I thought about running, it was Grogu that stopped me.” You looked down at the bundle of brown robes in your arms and found that the tiny, bat-eared boy had dozed off, his little cheek resting softly on your thigh. A fond smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “He was just…sweet. Pure. Attached to me.”

“He likes you,” the Mandalorian asserted.

“Yes. If I was going to have any hope of escaping, I would’ve had to have done it when you were away. But even if I managed it, then what would happen to him?” You hated to even consider it. You couldn’t bear the idea of abandoning the kid. “You trusted me to care for him. I couldn’t just leave him on his own like that.”

“There are others that would have. Without a second thought.”

The certainty with which Mando spoke sent a chill down your spine, and not for the first time, you wondered what trials the child and his caretaker had been put through before they met you. The latter seemed convinced that there were many in the galaxy who would wish harm upon Grogu, and even after months in his company, the thought still did not compute with you. Still, you supposed you could see how an average quarry might be willing to sacrifice the well-being of a child to save their own skin.

“I’m sure you’re right,” you said.

The bounty hunter hesitated for a moment then, and instead of a reply, you heard another airy hiss followed by the truncated sound of a seal activating, and you realized that he had put his helmet back on. Heavy footfalls echoed off the durasteel deck, and a streak of silver flashed in your periphery as he came to stand before of you, bracing his hands on the storage bin you were perched on.

His shoulders solemn and tense, he met your eyes as best as he was able through his visor, and he said, “The kindness you have shown my foundling will not be forgotten. You have chosen his well-being over your freedom, and you have cared for him better than I could have expected. There is much you do not know about him, much I have kept from you, and that is for a reason, but trust me when I tell you that your selflessness is not for nothing.”

His tone carried a significance you had never heard before, and it squeezed something in your chest, something that made your breath catch. You couldn’t claim to understand what he meant, what he could possibly have been keeping from you about Grogu. All you knew was that whatever it was, it clearly weighed on him, and you felt an inexplicable urge to offer him a measure of comfort, to take some of that burden for yourself. Before you could think better of it, you found yourself reaching out and settling your hand on top of one of his.

The Mandalorian startled at the unexpected touch, but he did not pull away. You could feel the vital warmth of him through the soft, worn leather of his glove. You could feel the breadth of his palm, the length and thickness of his fingers, the strength he carried there. Your pulse quickened at the sensation, and you allowed yourself to continue to stare into his visor, willing him to see that his revelation didn’t scare you.

“And I would do it all over again,” you said softly, your voice barely a whisper.

Mando inclined his head at you, his shoulders seeming to lose a bit of their rigidity. “This is the Way.”

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[littlestarofthewest]

hello! before i start i wanna let you know i don’t mean anything hateful by this, it is my genuine curiosity, i’m not trying to be disrespectful, i’m just really interested on your morston opinions. i personally, really am disgusted by the ship. mainly because of the established dynamics in the game between them and the fact that john joined the gang at 12, and arthur would’ve already been 22, and they would’ve never seen each other that way and they basically grew up as brothers, they were raised by the same men, and at the end of the game they even call each other brother. i know you’ve reblogged some morston stuff and i don’t hold anything against you, i really enjoy your writing and you seem like a genuinely cool person, i am just curious.

Hey anon,

I'm going to see this as a question in good faith and will try my best to answer. First of all, there are a lot of posts out there that argue in favor of morston a lot more eloquently than I ever could, but I will try to give you my pov based on what you brought up in your ask.

Personally, I can see John and Arthur both as siblings or as a romantic pairing (obviously not at the same time xD). Many points have been made against it being a romantic relationship, pretty much the ones you made, and as such I have enjoyed fics and art where they are brothers and I even have written some fics that go with that viewpoint. 

Then again, I think there are also valid points to be made for a romantic relationship and arguments that sort of "invalidate" the reasoning behind them being brothers. 

Yes, they have a 10 year age gap. I personally know couples in real life with big age gaps who have perfectly healthy relationships while people close in age are horrible for each other. It's no big leap for me to think that those two characters could be in love and have a great relationship based on that. 

Did they get to know each other when John was 12? Yes. That doesn't mean Arthur perved on him from that day forward. Suggesting that always makes me wonder what weird character traits people put on Arthur. Kids are inherently unsexual. If that doesn't apply to people who hate the ship, then they should probably sort out their own feelings towards children. Fast.

Did they grow up together? While lots of people like to portrait them as brothers from an early age, I think different interpretations are valid as well. Yes, Arthur was 22. He was involved in the criminal activities of the gang and based on how you see the timeline there's a chance he's also been in a romantic relationship. The chances of him even caring about a 12 year old he doesn't know are slim. He could have very well not cared much about John at all until he was old enough to be of any relevance to him. 

I know siblings who have no relationship/love for each other despite growing up in the same house (while also actually being related by blood). So while I don't want to invalidate "found family," I can very well see it not apply here at all. Besides, I find it odd that found family supporters are so dead set on pressing the characters into a nuclear family with Dutch as the dad and Hosea or Mrs. Grimshaw as a second parent while John and Arthur are their sons. Found family is supposed to mean all kinds of different relationships.

And as an add on, while I too enjoy depictions of Arthur holding up a bratty John by his leg or the scruff of his neck, it's complete nonsense. Have people in fandom ever met a 12 year old in real life? A 12 year old boy can very well have the size of an average sized woman (and logically also weigh as much). Of course he's still a kid and needs to be treated and protected as such, but I feel like there is this fandom interpretation that depicts him like a toddler/small child to make any involvement with Arthur later on more scandalous. He was a street kid who managed to get by on his own for a long time. Infantilizing him for outrage is absurd. 

Also, in 4 years in fandom while being in contact with a large amount of morston shippers, I never encountered anyone who shipped them before John was grown up. There might be content like that out there, but I'm not in support of it.

Their established dynamics in the game can be interpreted to anybody's liking. Do they argue like siblings or haze each other to keep positive feelings they can't express without making themselves vulnerable at bay? Does Arthur go out and save John because Hosea tells him to, Abigail asks him to, he loves him like a brother or because he loves him like a romantic interest? Does Arthur tell John to go in the end because he wants to protect his brother or the love of his life? 

Yes, they call each other brothers. Just like other game members call each other brothers. If I remember correctly, Dutch even alternates between brother, son and other things. I don't see it as a fixed term that solely indicates one type of relationship. People in the past have also called each other bachelors and similar terms to not openly admit a homosexual relationship. You can take the term at face value or not.

Like I said, many of these things have been discussed in the past, so I'll skip ahead to what I consider the most important point. It doesn't matter. Nobody needs valid points to justify their ship. There are ships with characters that haven't even met in canon and ships that even cross fandoms. 

I take two characters that I vibe with and since I like romantic stories, I put them into one. I'm also especially fond of AUs which makes canon even less of a factor. 

You being disgusted by the ship is perfectly valid. I don't need to hear good reasons. If that's what you feel then I accept that. The only thing I ask is that other people do the same for me, and especially don't try to actively harm others because of their ships. There's a reason why terms like "your kink isn't my kink, but your kink is okay" and "ship and let ship" were established early on in fandoms. It's healthy for all the parties involved. I interacted a lot with fans who very much disliked morston and blacklisted the hell out of it and we still get along just fine. 

Long story short, people grow up in different circumstances with different experiences, and much likely they will project things onto characters and have a variety of interpretations of canon or simply enjoy making stuff up that isn't there. That's the beauty of fandom. 

I hope that answers your question? And thank you for your interest in another person's pov. Sadly many people in this fandom jumped to conclusions and hatred rather than taking a moment to consider other people's feelings. So kudos for that.

#morston for ts #answered asks #anon asks

[stillness-in-green]

Pair O' Geten Asks

Congrats on your newly discovered Geten Appreciation, anon! I too like Geten a lot and feel that he, like the rest of the MLA, was Robbed.  He really would have made an interesting foil to Dabi and I have only conspiracy theories about Editor Meddling to explain why we didn’t get that.  The Rei-like appearance?  The opposed power set?  The father figure to whom he’s incredibly loyal?  The focus on a powerful quirk as more important than anything?  Come on; why write all that if it’s only going to matter for one (1) fight that doesn’t even come to a conclusive end and before we even have a bunch of concrete information on Dabi’s childhood relationship with his father?

Also, Geten and Dabi trying to run a regiment together would have been hilarious and it is but one of many things we were cheated out of seeing by that bedamned three-month timeskip on the villain side.

As well, Geten’s interesting to me for the same reason that Mustard is: they’re the only two young villains for whom we just don’t get much angle on student parallels, rescue arcs, and/or sympathetic portrayals.  Geten at least has far clearer motivations than Mustard, but it’s really frustrating to see the both of them basically written out of the story when they both seem far too young to be deemed Not Worth Saving.  (I mean, I obviously don’t think anyone should be declared off-limits for saving no matter how old or how far gone they are, but it’s particularly egregious when it comes to the younger villains.)

As to his loyalty to Re-Destro, I'll fold some discussion of that into my answer to this other ask, answered below the jump:

(CW: discussions of child abuse and cult dynamics)

Ohhhhh my god, anon.  Thank you for coming to me with this so I can assure you that, yes, Re-Destro absolutely does have genuine affection for Geten and his intentions absolutely do not come from a place of malice.

The thing with the way people headcanon RD and Geten’s relationship is, I think, pretty straightforward: Toxic Blorbo Anxiety.  Modern fandom, especially on tumblr, has really co-opted a lot of social justice rhetoric to make what once would have been dead-ass basic character/ship flame wars sound more justified and meaningful; as a consequence, altogether too many people have this idea that one’s taste in fiction (characters, relationships, themes, whatever) is a direct measure of one’s moral character.  Ergo, it’s no longer okay to just like a character with significant flaws—you have to find some kind of reason why that character’s flaws aren’t actually their fault.

People who hate Geten have zero problems writing him off as a toxic ableist eugenicist.  People who like Geten—well, some people are perfectly capable of liking Geten while acknowledging that he’s a violent little shit who espouses quirk supremacist ideals that go considerably farther than the ideals professed by anyone else around him, even the people higher up the chain of command.  For the “my taste in characters mirrors my moral character” folks, however, liking Geten means an immediate need to find a likely character to offload all of Geten’s moral failings onto.

Re-Destro is the only character for whom Geten has any demonstrated feelings whatsoever; this makes him the only available scapegoat.

And it’s ridiculous!  It is pulled literally out of thin air.  As you said, the databook is explicit that Re-Destro gave Geten “lots of affection,” but you see echoes of it in the canon as well.  There’s the flashback Geten has to RD smiling and patting him on the shoulders and entrusting him with an Important Task, as well as the implication that Geten cares about RD so much that Re-Destro burning himself caused Geten’s quirk evolution.  Re-Destro himself gets this beat, indicating trust and high regard, just after Giran gets sassy with him about the MLA losing their number advantage to the Sad Man’s Parade:

Yes, absolutely, Geten is fucked up from being raised in a cult.  Re-Destro was raised in the very same cult, however, and with a lot more fuckery about his ancestors and identity loaded down on him to boot.  Geten at least can just be Geten, you know?  The very best version of Geten that he knows how to be!

Of course, an ideal version of Geten would, among other changes, probably be going to school.  Now, Geten’s schooling is not RD’s responsibility—so far as we know, he isn’t Geten’s actual legal guardian.  Nonetheless, I’m sure he could make Geten do it if he really wanted to press the issue, and it’s no credit to him that he hasn’t.

Still, before I condemn RD for that, I’d want to know what RD’s own schooling situation was, or what the MLA approach is to school in general.  One of the things that defines cults, after all, is limiting members’ access to outside information, which is why they’re all such proponents for homeschooling.  I would be shocked if Re-Destro himself wasn’t homeschooled for at least his younger years, and therefore lacks a full frame of reference for why that’s a problem.

Speaking of RD’s frame of reference for things, and getting back to your actual question about ReDadstro, while I don’t read RD and Geten’s relationship as explicitly having familial vibes, I do think they’re close enough that a lot of people in-universe probably look at them and wonder.  The main reason for that is that, well, look at Re-Destro’s whole scenario!  He’s the scion of Yotsubashi Chikara, a blood-descendant of the leader of the original Meta Liberation Army, and, oh, does the story never let him or us forget it.  His authority over the group is entirely rooted in that ancestry; he and they all believe that it must be Destro, no one else, who brings Liberation to Japan.

That all being the case, then, why on earth doesn’t Re-Destro have any kids?

Seriously, the guy’s got to be over 40, and if the lineage is that important—and it is; Skeptic says explicitly that he wants to recruit Twice so that the MLA never has to fear a repeat of Destro’s loss—why hasn’t RD secured the bloodline for the future yet?  Even if he’s fairly confident in his and his followers’ ability to ring the bells of liberation in his lifetime, you’d think some contingency plans would be in order!

I also think it’s fairly telling that a guy whose authority is so rooted in family doesn’t seem to have any of his own—not just kids, but siblings, a spouse, parents, grandparents, anybody.  While it could simply be a function of his limited screen time, we have at least some idea of what the family situation is for most of the other major villains.  AFO, Shigaraki and the rest of the League, Gentle Criminal, Overhaul—for all of them, we can point to at least one thing and say, “That’s the situation,” even if it’s as simple as e.g. the implication of Spinner becoming a hikikomori or Overhaul being an orphan.  It seems to me that if there was a family line in charge of the MLA, we would have seen at least one other member at some point.  That we never do[1] suggests pretty strongly that Re-Destro is the only Yotsubashi around at the current time.

My headcanon, then, is that Re-Destro, a man so psychologically burdened by the needs of being the Great Destro’s successor that he saw an omni-nihilist like Shigaraki as freedom delivered on divine wings, doesn’t have children because he doesn’t want them.  Or, more accurately, because whether or not he, Yotsubashi Rikiya, might want children, he’s unwilling to have them so long as there’s any chance his burden could become theirs.

And thus we get to Geten.  If Rikiya might have wanted children in other circumstance, it’s not so surprising that he’d have a streak of paternal instinct that came out with Geten, especially when Geten was younger.  Here’s someone who’s powerful but never going to be in any danger of inheriting all of Rikiya’s burdens, someone whose loyalty is to Rikiya personally, rather than to Destro’s blood.[2]  Of course Rikiya’s fond of him!  He’s not entirely free when he’s around Geten, but at the very least, Geten transparently doesn’t care about the MLA’s glorious history.

I have to think that everyone around them Feels Some Sorta Way about this, especially those shadowy figures we saw telling young Rikiya all about his “inheritance,” but the downside of raising a six-year-old to be the supreme leader of your underground army is that there’s only so much open pushback you can offer once the six-year-old turns forty.  If RD wants to maintain a close relationship with Geten, there’s not really anyone who can put their foot down about it beyond a certain amount of pointed-but-respectful questioning.

As for what Geten thinks of this state of affairs, the way I conceive of them, Geten is painfully aware that Re-Destro is heavily burdened, and Geten wants to relieve as much of that burden as he can.  However, one of the reasons RD might find Geten comparatively relaxing is that Geten doesn’t occupy a specific place in the MLA’s organizational structure.  That might be because Geten lacks the temperament for leadership, but it might also be because RD likes that Geten is a bit sideways of the power structure that defines so much of the rest of Rikiya’s life.  Geten’s closeness to the Grand Commander might be enviable to others in the MLA, but it doesn’t seem to come with any particular authority; Geten probably wishes that RD would give him more to do![3]

Hence, I assume, his single-minded fervor about living up to Re-Destro’s trust and eliminating the people in Re-Destro’s way and so forth.  If it’s somewhat rare for Re-Destro to give Geten actual tasks to fulfill, all the more reason for Geten to pounce so vigorously on what opportunities do arise.

In summary, while Re-Destro and Geten’s relationship has some pretty huge red flags in it—the lack of schooling, the way RD being Geten’s patron rather than giving him a real position keeps Geten dependent on RD’s favor, the way Geten is singled out as having this relationship with RD, the disconnect between the values they extol— in the context they live in, I think it’s pretty wholesome!  That is, they’re both pretty fucked up by the cult upbringing, in ways neither of them is fully capable of even recognizing, but I think they both mean well by each other, and their lives are stabler and happier for each other's presences than if they were still both MLA but weren't aquainted.

Could it be better?  Sure!  But there’s a nigh-unbridgeable canyon between, “Based on what we know about the characters’ circumstances, this relationship has some concerning elements,” and, “Re-Destro is physically abusive, thinks Geten is only valuable as a weapon, and has groomed Geten himself to believe that.”

The far side of that canyon must be in Narnia, because stepping through a magic doorway to another world where BNHA is a completely different story is the only way anyone’s going to be able to produce canon evidence for the Re-Destro As Abusive Groomer claim.  As Shigaraki and All For One prove, however, there’s no villain in this story that can’t be rendered more cloyingly, simplistically sympathetic by cramming a bunch of physical abuse into fanfic where none exists canonically.

Thanks for the asks, anons! Please go forth and continue loving Geten freely. And Re-Destro also, because god knows he needs more love.

---

[1] The closest we get is the family portraits the League find in the obviously-intended-to-be-Re-Destro’s-summer-home they ransack in the live drama reading from that LOV stage event back in 2021.  No word on whether Horikoshi had any input whatsoever on that script, however.

[2] The tell here is the consistency of Geten’s motivations.  He never connects Re-Destro’s authority to Destro Classic like Skeptic and Trumpet do, nor does his loyalty change to Shigaraki post-Deika as you might expect if quirk supremacy were really the only thing Geten used to measure worth.

[3] It’s very telling that when we’re being introduced to the heads of the MLA, getting their real names and day jobs, Geten isn’t included in the lineup; he remains an unnamed parka troll with bad table manners.  He does get a proper rank in the PLF, of course, but by that point Re-Destro has ceded control to Shigaraki, so RD no longer has to worry so much about how he defines or doesn’t define the relationship or what people might think of it.

#bnha #geten #yotsubashi rikiya #re-destro #meta liberation army #bnha fandom critical #cw: child abuse #(discussed) #honestly when you've seen one fandomized take on a Bad Dad you've seen them all #as if the author is afraid that if Bad Dad isn't shown beating his kids every day then the reader might not figure out he's abusive #or the assumption that being bad in one way means he must be bad in all the other ways too #e.g. the fics where Shimura Kotarou is not merely violent but also homophobic #save me #and also spare me #salt in the tags #stillness answers

[miss-andromeda]

2012 TMNT 😁

The first character I first fell in love with: 

This should be a no-brainer...I think you know him. Tall, purple bandana, gap between the teeth, way too smart for his own good...yeah, it's him. 😌💜

The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: 

Honestly, Raph! I started the show thinking very surface-level of him; awesome ninja, anger issues, stuff like that. Then when I started rewatching the show, I started to see how vulnerable and soft he could be with his brothers - along with unbelievably sassy he can be. Seriously, dude has some of my favorite one-liners in the whole show.🤣❤️

The character everyone else loves that I don’t: 

Oh, this is gonna be interesting...I'm gonna be blunt here, Leo. Don't get me wrong, I like him a lot and he has some amazing moments, but he doesn't necessarily have the snark that makes Raph and Donnie stand out, and the sunshine and humor that makes Mikey so endearing. I love Blue, but he's 4th place out of the four. 💙

The character I love that everyone else hates: 

Hmm...probably Shredder. I've seen people say that his motivation is pretty lame (which, in some way, it kind of is) but he's not just a bratty child. He's a really twisted villain and seems to really believe his motivations are completely justified - and you can't deny he's completely ruthless in battle. Really exemplifies the concept of the head of the Foot - and honestly, I think he's a great villain.

The character I used to love but don’t any longer:

Probably April. I liked her a lot when I was younger (the concept of girl power and she's got a potential romance with my favorite turtle? Sign me up!), but once I got older...she really grated on my nerves. Don't get me wrong, I like her in season 1; she's an inexperienced teenager who's dealing with the pain of having her dad be kidnapped and is meeting some new friends along the way. Season 2 onwards? I wanted to strangle her. Not just because of the love triangle (although that is a part of it,) but also because she lost a lot of that awkwardness that made her likable in season 1, and just became a cliche girlboss. But she wasn't even likable there; she just felt like the token female character needed to add "diversity" to the group.

The character I would totally smooch: 

See my first answer. 💜

The character I’d want to be like: 

Probably Raph; minus the short temper, I'd love to have the skills he has and the undying love with an animal - be it Spike/Slash or Chompy. Plus, the sass. ❤️

The character I’d slap: 

Well, I already mentioned April, but I like her in season 1 so that saves her. And it's kind of a cliche choice to pick a villain, so let's pick someone that I've despised since the beginning - even when I was a dumb kid.

Casey.

Does he get better in later seasons? Yeah, I'd say so; he becomes less in your face and more...just annoying, but kinda like Mikey annoying where you can't hate him. But in season 2, I wanted to strangle him too - and admittedly, still kinda do. He's way too obnoxious for his own good, is way too gross in his flirting with April (he's not chauvinistic or anything, but you just roll your eyes a lot of the time), and doesn't back up his bragging or anything with actually being likable, unlike Raph.

So yeah, he's the one.

A pairing that I love:

If you asked me this when I was a kid, I would've said Apritello - April and Donnie. Now, I don't shame anyone if they ship them, but let's just say I way prefer my version in All's Fair in Love and Science (shameless self-promo 😅) where they love each other platonically and April shamelessly teases him about his crush on my OC, Andi.

But to answer, a pair that I love? Mikey and Renet, personally. She captures that inexperience as a Time Master wonderfully, and she never comes off like an idiot - she's just trying to find her footing. And Mikey's so in awe of her that it's kind of adorable. They both have that same kind of childish, free spirit that makes me just want to protect them. 😅🧡

A pairing that I despise: 

Okay, there are two.

One is the aforementioned Apritello. I used to like them as a kid, but watching it in hindsight is just cringeworthy. Don't get me wrong, I am all for Donnie having a crush (and admittedly, I'm a sucker for the love at first sight trope), but did they have to make it so forced and awkward? And I understand April feeling uncomfortable and not wanting to ruin their friendship about his feelings for her, but that's what communication is. And by not having that, she just kept leading him on and making him think he had a chance - only to either ignore him or just continue treating him like just a friend. It was so forced and awkward and...ugh.

And for the obvious - Leorai, Leo and Karai. Okay, who thought it was a good idea to imply that two siblings could have a romance - and have it be canon that one sibling had a crush on the other? Don't get me wrong, I love Karai; she's bar none my favorite female character in the show. And like I said, I love Leo - but the crush he had on Karai is what brings his character down for me. If they wrote him as impressed by her skills and seeing the good in her from a platonic point of view, it would've been sweet - and added another layer to Leo's character. But no, they went with the pseudo-incest perspective and made us all creeped out.

----------

Thank you for the ask, girl! ❤️

@kikithedreamerwriter @m1dnyt3-w0lf @margoteve @jasminarts01 @thelaundrybitch @raphsmuneca @happymoonangel @android-cap-007

#tmnt 2012 #ask game #tagged! #dee's random thoughts

[goingbuggy]

I think you have best theories in the fandom about shanks. It’s like you see more than most of us. So that’s why to just have simple yes or no answer would be enough. I have this level of trust in you.

Do you believe makinos child is shanks or someone’s else?

I just can’t stop thinking about this, because for me I don’t see it, but it’s so popular I feel stupid or blinded by my other ships.

thank you for your kind words!! you probably shouldn't place this must trust in me though, LOL. i'm just reading and overthinking everything in the source material, like everyone else is.

is it possible that shanks has a child with makino? well.. yeah. to put it bluntly, the simplest answer is usually the right answer with oda. he's already established that makino and shanks are friendly from chapter one, and shanks is even seen dressed up for a wedding on one cover page, which oda sometimes uses to tell canon events that don't fit the flow of the current arc. (think of enel's journey to the moon, for example).

me personally, though? i've got beef with this idea, and not for the reasons you might think. makino and shanks as a couple is fine to me; i don't find their relationship all that compelling, truthfully, but they fit the mold for most of oda's canon pairings.

when it comes to shanks' characterization, though, the idea of him having a child at this point in the story strikes me as both offputting and irrelevant. shanks is an emperor, and given his actions, his current responsibilities are clearly the priority. so the thought of shanks leaving makino alone to take care of their child is... strange? his status has the potential to endanger them. he is surely too preoccupied to be sailing back and forth to see them.

you could argue that this parallels roger and rouge, but i also think that's the worst possible way oda could have shanks mirror his old captain. at least in roger's case, oda had ace become a relevant part of luffy's story. what narrative purpose does this serve? is it to humanize shanks? i'm not quite sure what oda's angle is, here.

we also have to consider shanks' past. shanks left uta behind, so i don't think he is "above" leaving his newborn child, so to speak, but his reasoning in that situation was far more complex. here, though? this would be shanks ACTIVELY choosing to bring a child into this world, knowing full well he cannot take care of it until he sees his goals through. (SHANKS? patient, protective shanks, unable to wait to start a family? the boy who was an abandoned child himself? does he not believe that he will live long enough to wait? if so, why would he leave makino with that responsibility at all? characters can make selfish decisions, but i can't see any reasoning from shanks' perspective. this is a problem to me.)

so, in short, no, i'm not exactly a fan of this theory. i just don't see the merit of adding it to the story, when the implications seem to contradict what we know about his character. and again, what is the narrative benefit that outweighs the faulty logic? what do we gain as readers? what does this do for the story? to me, it feels like nothing at all.

#tldr; 'why is the author acting like he knows so much lol' #oda. PLEASE explain #because i just cannot see it #not in the way i could understand shanks' reasoning when he left uta #i also think this decision undermines uta's entire existence #it gives the impression that shanks is. idk. unaffected? #parents are allowed to process the deaths of their children and move on #but we have never once seen shanks process any losses in his life. hell we don't even the poor man CRY #and so as a result this writing choice just feels.. sloppy #it skips over the potential for depth #if you are going to add lore to a character's story... give it the proper weight it deserves. let uta's memory haunt shanks. shape him #don't just write her in to write her off. otherwise what's the point? #ask #long post