#what is a cyborg but a metallic ghost? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yaut-jaknowit · 2 months

Note

Gonna have to fly in here on the speed of light atp😭 I had an idea after me and my duo were brainstorming. Where like the reader dies, but their consciousness gets put into an android instead (like from the game Detroit Become Human) and he doesn’t remember who his mate is anymore and has to regain his memories. Brain creativity is wild. (Don’t even ask how long I had this sitting and ready to be sent)

Lost Your Mind

Pairing: Pel (Male Yautja) x Cyborg!Reader

Word Count: 2778

Summary: Cream-colored ceilings are the first thing you see when waking up from nothing. You have no memories of who or where you are. When a large humanoid creature comes into the room, your first instinct is to freak out.

Author Note: You're lucky you were able to come in here so quickly, but even then, there was a few before you. This was definitely different than any I've written. I hope it's up to code for you!

Masterlist

Ao3

Slow, bogged down. It felt like an uphill climb to get your brain to boot up. Your eyelids slid back to reveal a bland cream-colored ceiling. It took twice the amount of strength to push yourself into a sitting position.

The room filled with strange trinkets all revolving around bones and weapons meant for hunts. It piqued your interest.

Soft pelts slipped from your skin and back onto the bed. You stood up from the bed and promptly closed onto your knees. Pain did not come. Confusion filled your thoughts as you stayed knelt on the ground and looked at your hands.

Gun metal grey filled your vision. Something was off.

A door sliding open had your head whipping up. There stood a figure your brain couldn’t supply the name, only the species. Yautja. A strong, lethal species not to be crossed with. Known for their hunting prowess and ability to take down prey five times their size with little effort. You inhaled sharply through your nose, eyes widening.

There was no open chance of escape if this figure meant harm. That door was the only entrance and exit. You gnawed on your bottom lip, feeling the softer metal scrap underneath dull teeth. All you could do was stay knelt on the ground, unable to find your way to your feet.

The alien figure was swift to enter your space and dropped to its knees before you. Coarse, scaly palms cupped your cheeks in a soft, gentle manner.

Your brows drew together. This wasn’t a normal behavior of a Yautja. Not the way your brain was able to supply so quickly on the thought. Ah, wait, the honor code. Maybe that’s why.

Then, it called your name in a sweet tone. It knew your name but you didn’t even know who or why they are here. Wait, where is here? Why are you here? A headache began to grow in your head. Or well, what felt like one. Like strange pressure that didn’t necessarily hurt but slow down your train of thought.

“You’re awake. I’m so glad you’re awake,” the Yautja cooed at you in tone they were never known for. You titled your head slightly in his hands and raised a brow.

“Who are you?”

Dead silence. Such a silence that allowed you to hear the beat of your heart thundering in your ears. To hear the stuttering beat from the alien before you. His hands added a hint of pressure that almost had you worried it was going to attack.

But it never did.

A whine. A pathetic, nearly dog like whine sounded from its throat. “No,” it whispered in the quiet air, finally breaking the silence. “No. No!” It was a cry of desperation. For what reason? You had no clue. You didn’t know who this was. Why should you care about their feelings?

“Can you let go of my face? This is kind of getting weird,” you muttered and tried to pull away from its firm grip. Hurt flashed in its bright eyes before its hold on you finally released you. Fingers ghosted over your skin then fell away to its sides.

The alien stayed knelt before you, corded muscles tense. You cleared your throat and make a quick show of glancing around. “You didn’t answer my first question.” The creature flinched and slightly bowed its massive head. Was this thing even a Yautja? It surely didn’t act like one with all these submissive actions. Your eyes narrowed on it.

All four of its short but sharp mandibles twitched. Like a nervous tick.

If you could, you would make your way to your feet and put some distance. The knowledge your brain simply supplied about this species was not how it was acting. It made you anxious, unsure if this one had some sort of disease.

“You don’t know me?” it whispered the question. Your brows scrunched together, lips pursing.

A shake of your head simply answered it.

It took a sharp intake then bowed its head. The strange-tresses. They help with sensing pressure and… sexual actions. Your face burned when your brain came up with this information. You shook your head and refocused on it in front of you.

The short tresses created a curtain on either side of its head while it lost eye contact with you. A part deep in your mind nearly surfaced: the need to comfort the saddened creature. You brushed it off and stayed glued to the ground. “Again, who are you? Where am I? What… what is happening?” Questions spilled from your lips.

For a minute moment, you glanced around the dim room and found it nothing of norm. Skulls of different creatures your brain instantly knew when looking at them lined two of the walls. Trophies that Yautjas hunted. Predators winning trophies. Some of said skulls were of humans… human. You were human? Why was that a question?

You inspected your hands again. They weren’t organic material. You rubbed your index and thumb pads together. Metal. The material that made up your hands was metal but the longer you looked, your gaze dragged up your arms. All metal. Smooth, skin tone metal encased your limbs. Your legs too.

Human no more.

A shrill shriek pierced your lungs. You attempted to rise to a stand but your legs failed to hold any weight still. Instead, you scrambled away from the Yautja and began to pant.

Uncoherent words jumbled their way from your metal lips. Your back pressed to the edge of the low bed behind you. Hands that weren’t yours, made with material that wasn’t organic, gripped at your head.

The same rough textured hands grasped at your wrists and pulled them away. A deep purr rolled through the air. You felt yourself beginning to soften in the hold before going slacken on the bed frame. It poke uncomfortably into your back but that was the least of my worries.

Finally, you raised your gaze to meet those piercing eyes that, dare you say, felt familiar. “What am I? What happened?” you cried, still panting as if you ran a marathon.

The Yautja sagged, grip loosening but not enough to release you. Not that you minded. All you wanted was some answers.

So many questions sprung to life inside of your mind. Was it even yours? Doubt and anxiety filled your no longer human frame.

It sat down on the metal ground before you and sat with its legs crossed. Well, less of an it now and more of a he. The males are smaller than the females. This one was average size of a male. You hated the fact you knew this more from a dictionary feeling than knowledge. Like you were reading this from a book than already knowing this internally.

“I’m sorry, I-they… they thought you would still have your memories. It was only a small chance you wouldn’t, but I still took the risk. Just to keep you,” he spilled and moved your hands to your lap while keep a hold on them.

This only caused the pressure inside of your head to worsen. Anger flashed to life inside of you. “What happened?!” you yelled at him, demanding an explanation for this. For the reason why I’m made of metal… like an android or robot.

He sighed and slightly tilted his head up enough to look at you from his deep-set eyes. A name fell from his lips, one you did no recognize. An action he noticed. “You… you died. Well, about to die. There was just enough time to get you on the mothership. I demanded the healers to save you. I could not loose you. I wasn’t ready.” He paused and glanced to the side.

His chest expanded with a deep breath. “There was little to save. Not even the healers could do much. The next best option was… to build you a body and transfer your brain and heart into it, well what’s left of your heart.”

The explanation didn’t ease the trembling in your hands. More tears fell down artificial cheeks. What was real of you anymore? Just your brain and heart? Nothing else?

“Oh, my flower, it’s going to be-“ he reached forward to wipe off a tear when you smacked his hand away from you.

“Don’t touch me!” you screeched at him but stayed sat on ground in a pile of defeat. It would be pointless to try and get up when your first two attempts ended in failure. You glare at the ground, chest heaving with each angry breath.

The Yautja gave a look of hurt but backed off by giving you some space. He stayed in the room, five feet away from you still on the ground.

You had almost died. Death. And you didn’t even remember anything of the sort. Nothing besides waking up early and him coming through the door was everything on your memory banks.

What does this mean for you? Instead of skin, you were metal. Could you feel the same? What about pain? How bad will this change your life? You wiped a stray tear and flicked it away. Yet, more came to fill its place. An never-ending waterfall.

What about your tears? Will that reservoir need to be replenished? Or eating and food. How will that work? Do you need to be near an outlet for the rest of your life? Always ready to recharge your batteries. You sobbed harder at the thought.

After your cried went quiet and the silence was too much, you cleared your throat and looked over at him. “So, what’s your name?” If you were stuck like this, you might as well make the most of the situation. Learn what you can of your past life. Maybe even return to it if possible. Even if you weren’t human anymore.

His fangs clicked against another. “Pel.” Short, sweet. An easy name to remember. But with the technology hooked up to your brain, it’s not like you could easily forget.

“And who were you to me?” It was a strain to force the words out. Such a strange question to ask in any other situation other than being turned into a robot.

Yet, the Yautja kept his trap shut and instead reached for a necklace that hung around his neck. Bones of different species hung off the cord. His fingers softly rubbed at a stone in the middle.

“Your mate,” he whispered, the words hurting to be spilled. Your brows jumped to the ceiling. You stared at him for longer than you would like to admit with a deafening silence that engulfed the two of you. It took more will power than to hold back an army from screaming out right there.

Mate? Yautjas take mates as a form of permanent relationship compared to the seasonal fling to produce offspring. He was your mate. Lover, partner, boyfriend. None of those substitutions eased you.

A painful thought came to mind: would he still love me even if I wasn’t the same as before? Mind or body? “So, that’s why you decided to the take the risk and forever change me into this thing,” you bitterly spat out. Your upper lip curling up. “Why?”

His back straightened for a more serious approach. “You are my mate. How could I not save you from Cetanu’s wrath?” Words softly spoken with such hurt and disbelief for your own unfaith in him. Could he blame you? Memories of the past wiped clean and leave behind a clean slate to be marked. Nothing to alert he ever meant something to you.

Instantly, your brain supplied information about the name he stated. The god of death for Yautjas. The hunting grounds Yautjas are sent to for their final battle before the end. You groaned clutched at your head in distraught, despising the fact that wasn’t knowledge you personally knew.

A pained glare was sent in his direction. “Well, how is that going for you? I don’t even know who you are.” The Yautja sighed with his head bowed once more. You could see the gears in his head trying to figure out a way to fix this.

How could he fix this? You weren’t human anymore. Not fully. A cyborg of sorts for his own gain.

But, he did save you from death. You gnawed at your inner cheek then exhaling softly.

“The healers said it was a slight possibility but I had to take the chance. I couldn’t lose you so soon!” he cried and fidgeted in his spot on the floor. “You don’t understand how my heart ached at the sight of you. So bloodied, barely breathing. It wasn’t even an honorable death. A Bad Blood tried to kill you.”

Bad Blood: rouge Yautjas who have broken the honor code. Enforcers hunt them down. They are deemed rouge by a council of their assigned clan.

Fuck you.

This was sickening. If you had a stomach, you probably would’ve puked up whatever they pumped into you to keep you alive. You took a deep breath to stave off the new wave of tears daring to fall.

“I hate this,” you whispered and gripped at your head. The information dump was driving you insane. Anything you didn’t know personally was fed into your brain forcefully. You felt like a dictionary. “Turn it off!”

You gripped tighter at your head then ducked down to your knees, forehead to them. A sob desperate wanted to wrack your body but you fought it off by closing off any sounds. Anything to keep any sliver of dignity you held on to.

Hand encased your wrists again and brought them away then to your sides. “Turn what off?” his voice whispered. You whipped your head up and nearly smacked into his jaw if he was a second slower.

Despite him having a hold on your wrists you still made a general motion towards your head. “Everything I don’t know, something tells me! I’m like a fucking computer. I hate it! I hate this! I hate you!” you snarled at him and tried to fight him off. He struggled to hold onto your stronger form but kept you retrained and pressed to the bedframe behind you. “I never wanted this! You did this to me.”

His hold slackened enough for you to tug free. Your feet wobbled like a newborn foal. Every step helped gain you speed and out the open door.

This space looked to be a living room. Basic, enough furniture to hold three people in the same area if the need arises. Small yet homey in a strange way. You had enough time to give a quick look over before your legs gave out once. You fell to your knees and screamed with anger at the whole situation. This felt like a punishment worse than death.

Starting your life over while stuck in the middle.

Hands grasped at your shoulders and tugged you into a warm body. Your brain went numb, unable to react to something that felt familiar. A purr rumbled your internal parts and soothed the raging emotions swirling inside of you. You whimpered and gripped onto one of his forearms entangled around you. “It’s going to be okay. It’ll all be okay. We’ll figure this out together. We always do. We are a team. I will help you every step of the way. I will never leave you, okay?” he stated and rubbed a palm along your bicep.

You swallowed the lump that blocked any words down. “I’m scared,” you admitted and tightened your hold on him. “I don’t like this.”

This was all completely out of your territory. You didn’t know where you are, barely knew who this was, and got turned into a cyborg after you were supposedly attacked. You hadn’t even known you had died. What a messed-up outcome this has turned into.

The purr deepened. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, my mate. I will protect you with my life.” He paused and ducked his head down, mandibles pressed to the back of your head. “I’m sorry to have put you under so much stress. I thought this was the best route for you.”

His words helped you loosen your muscles or whatever corded your body. You leaned more against him and turned your head. Your nose finding his scent and realizing how familiar to felt. Maybe life will get easier after this? Now, you had to hope for the best outcome of life that has been turned on its head. You tilted your head back and found the large alien gazing down at you.

“I think you’re right.”

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #predator x you #yautja x human #predator x human #x reader #Pel

117 notes · View notes

mynewhyperfixation · 3 months

Text

T.I.P. - Pt.6

When the boy saw Cyborg pick up the discarded metal arm of the being he had been fighting he sighed. After taking a calculating scan of the scene he stopped pulling against the lasso. (It didn’t seem to hurt him the way it did most of her enemies.) He landed and put his arms out. After so many evasive encounters he had simply surrendered.

When Batman put on the admittedly suspicious power dampening collar and cuffs Phantom winced. He let out a small pained hiss as his gravity defying white hair turned wavy black, glowing green eyes faded to a blue hazel, and his magenta tinged skin became a dark tan. Only a moment after the transformation he set his face in a stoic expression. Proud and yet far too resigned for someone so young. His eyes then became unfocused in a way that they all found concerning.

Danny didn’t allow himself to think about how these new cuffs had forced him out of his ghost form and what that meant. He didn’t allow himself to imagine being turned over to the GIW, as he soon would be. He instead focused on the pain of the cuffs cutting off half of who he was. Ignoring the injuries that had infinitely slowed in their healing, and he kept his mouth shut, because you don’t talk to cops. There was no point in asking for a lawyer either. Legally he wasn’t a person and the League would know that.

Masterpost

AN: Danny is part Filipino and adopted at birth in this AU I've decided. He's also a bit purple/pink because of this post https://www.tumblr.com/junkanimate/737426156743213057 I've been uploading here rather than AO3 in hopes of getting more thoughts and opinions out of people, but so far that has not worked at all. 😅 Got any ideas for what to call this chapter? There's only 1 part of it left!

#dpxdc #dp x dc #tclwrites #The Infamous Phantom

102 notes · View notes

icycoldninja · 4 months

Text

Fluffcember #31 (Raiden x Reader)

Sick Day

When you woke up in the morning, you felt dizzy and weak. Your entire body was hot, your throat was sore, and you had an overwhelming urge to cough. You groaned, not wanting to get out of bed simply because of the waves of nausea coursing through your stomach. You exhaled heavily before coughing up a wad of mucus; sticky, yellow, and annoying. Quite peeved, you hoisted yourself off the bed and trudged to the bathroom to dispose of the mucus, which was where Raiden found you. "You look terrible," He announced, as if it weren't already too clear. "What happened?" You threw your arms up in the air in exasperation. "I'm sick, Raiden." Raiden raised an eyebrow at you, as it had been a long, long time since he'd even heard that word used in such context. "Sick. Hmm." You sighed, taking the thermometer from your bathroom medicine cabinet and sliding it into your ear. Once it beeped, you pulled it put to find it read 100.1 degrees. Raiden's visible eye widened; he hadn't even seen a fever that high since he was a child--a very young child, at that. "You are very sick, Y/N. Very sick." You nodded miserably before sneezing several times and then coughing up another wad of mucus. "Go lie down," Raiden instructed, snatching up medicine from the closet and examining it to make sure it wasn't expired. "I'll get you what you need." All too glad to go back to bed, you slid under the covers and rested your head on the pillow, feeling your nose start to run as you did so. Raiden soon returned with several bottles of different medicine, a bag of cough drops, a small garbage can, and a box of tissues. He set the supplies on your nightstand, arranging them so you could access them easily. "Now, take your medicine," He prompted, holding up a small measuring cap to your lips. Reluctantly, you downed the medicine and gagged at it's bitter taste. Raiden passed you some water, then handed you a tissue, which you gratefully accepted. "Thanks Raiden..." You said, blowing your nose noisily after that. "You're welcome Y/N. Now, sleep." Raiden clicked off the lights and crossed over to the other side of the bed, upon which he climbed. "Wait, what are you doing?" You inquired, groggily tossing the tissue into the garbage can and pulling the sheets up over your shoulders. "I am staying with you, of course. You shouldn't have to suffer alone." You chuckled, sweeping some hair out of your face. "Well, thank you, Raiden, but you should go. You don't want to catch what I have." Raiden shook his head with a ghost of a smile on his face. "I am a cyborg. We don't get sick." He then twisted and turned, trying to reach something in his back. After a moment, you heard a click, and his chest piece start humming. "Built in heater, the one you love so much, remember?" You nodded gleefully, sniffling and sliding towards him, wrapping your arms around his metal body, pressing your head against his warm, thrumming chest. "This good?" Raiden whispered, once you were settled down. "Mmhmm," You nodded, already feeling drowsiness wash over you. "Nighty night Raiden..." Raiden let out a tiny, barely audible chuckle. "Goodnight, Y/N."

#mgs #Raiden mgs #Raiden mgr #Metal gear Raiden #Fluff #Fluffy #Fluffy fanfic #Fanfic #Fluff fanfic #Fluffcember #fluffcember 2023 #Raiden x reader #Icycoldninja writes #Fluffcember day 31 #Fluffcember finale #Part 31 of 31 #Thank you so much for sticking till the end #Luv yall #See ya in 2024!

25 notes · View notes

titleknown · 4 months

Text

RANDOM ARMY BUILDER FIGURE GENERATOR!

So, as a follow-up to the "build your character like a Ninja Turtle" thing I did based on @therobotmonster's idea, I figured I may as well come up with another one inspired by a fun, silly thing from toy-collecting: Army building mooks!

So...

What sort of Mook are they?

Humanoid

Android/Cyborg

Fleshy Undead

Plant/Fungus

Mineral

Humanoid Animal (Vertebrate)

Alien

Nonhumanoid Robot

Skeleton

Rideable Mount For Other Mooks

Monster-Person

Magic Construct/Doll

Bound Energy/Element/Force

Demon

Alien

Gynoid

Spirit/Ghost

Cosmic Horror

Animate Inanimate Objects

Rideable Vehicle For Other Mooks

What sort of antagonist or force do they work for?

A Dreadful Virus Or Corruption

Advanced Ancient Civilization That Wishes To Rule Again

50s/80s-Type Stylized Street Gang

The Good Guys (Sincere, Bad At It)

PIRATE KING!

The Legions of an Evil Wizard

Satan Or Some Stand-In Parents Won't Whine About

Conquest-Hungry Space Empire

Evil Corporate Capitalist Bastards

The Shiny Pretty "Good Guys" (Secretly Evil)

A Hunger Beyond Time And Memory

Guards/Mancatchers For A Super-Prison

Dishonorable Ninja Clan

AI Either Gone Insane Or Far Too Sane

We Will Assimilate You (AKA Fun With Biopolitics)

Some Variety of Mafia

To Stop The Evil I Must Become Evil (AKA Fallen Heroes)

There's Some Time Travel Shenanigans/Bullshit Going On Here

Big Monster(s) That Think They're The Top Of The Great Chain Of Beings

I Can't Believe It's Not A Mashup Of The Nazis And The Modern US Military

What sort of environment does this mook generally work in?

Jungles

Deserts

Urban Areas

Icy Biomes

Deep Space

Underwater/Ocean

Underground

Swamp

Mountains

Anywhere/Generalist

Cyberspace

Ancient Dungeons/Tombs

Toxic Wastelands

The Sky/Floating Islands

Haunted Places

Prehistoric Ecosystems

Jideigeki/Anime-Type Japan

Volcanoes

Inside A Monster And/Or Fleshy Meat-World

The Future!

What sort of toyetic gimmick does this particular mook type have?

Self-Destruct

Pullback Motor

Vac-Metalized Parts

Hidden Integrated Weapons

Slime Dripping

Grapples/Imprisones Other Figures

LED Lights

Removable Organs/Internal Circuitry/General Guts

Water Squirting

Translucent Plastic

Multiple Interchangable Integrated Weapons

Flapping Wings/Tendrils

Glow in the Dark

Excessive Projectile Launchers

Spinning Blade/Drill

Biting Jaws

Parasitizes Other Figures and/or Vehicles/Mounts

Full of Tinier Men

Excessively Large

Roll Twice

What sort of toyetic gimmick do they have toyline-wide? (Roll once if you're rolling multiple "figures" from the same "line" on this table)

Holograms

Attachable Armor

Spring-Loaded Melee Attack

Comes With A Little Buddy

Magnets

Spring-Loaded Projectiles

Unusual Packaging Integrated Into the Play Pattern

Interchangeable Parts

Collectible Action Figure Game (Yes, That's A Thing)

Transforming

Integrated Shiny Jewel

Some Variety of Slime

Combining

Rooted Hair

Marble Launching

Integrated Speaker/Sound Chip

Pocket-Sized (Think Battle Beasts or Food Fighters)

Die-Cast Parts

Cap Firing

Roll Twice

Have fun!

#random charts #random tables #action figure #toy #toys #toyetic #toy design #army builder #army builders #mooks #minions #no not those ones

22 notes · View notes

number9robotic · 3 months

Text

Random personal character/worldbuilding

I wanted to design at some point an original roster of fighting game characters and my life spiralled out of control thinking of new ideas so I gotta share what I got:

Pitch: It's about a group of superpowered teens who get sent to a school training them how to be good superVILLAINS.

Slightly more specifics: The world is like ours but there are supers around. There exists a school for "superpowered opportunists" that is ostensibly to raise up-and-coming supers but is very transparently corrupt and just a legally-permissible way to raise future allies to whatever mustache-twirling nonsense they have cooking up. The students are sourced from all over the world and are mostly good kids, but they have wild powers to deal with that are very easy to look at and go "yep, they're born to join the dark side."

Character list at the moment:

"Anti" (Canadian), timid but ambitious, well-behaved, reasonably "normal" kid from the suburbs who discovered that their shadow is alive, and can rise up and kill people. Was involuntarily sent to the school by their parents who believed it would be a good fit, for better and for worse. Now basically trying to survive. Fights with a quarterstaff, shadow deals its own attacks, turns staff into a scythe and other scary sharp things, wants its host to join in the fun.

"Hellgirl" ("Eastern European"), a princess to an impoverished noble family who -- in a desperate bid for power -- sacrificed her as part of a draconic ritual, with her coming back as this cursed half-dragon that has to be bound in magic tampering chains to stop her from ripping peoples' heads off. Genuinely a proper lady and actually kind of a sweetheart when lucid. Requires a buncha physical accomodations but can still fight even when in chains. Also, breathes hellfire. Cool beans.

"Smoggy/The Vigilante Smog Monster" (Australian), a living swamp monster summoned by an Aboriginal tribe who believed him to be a guardian spirit, and though he had no idea what they were talking about, he remained their guardian until he was separated and stumbled into scouting agents for the school. Shifts between a gross, sludgy humanoid form and horror smoke with the power of ancient wooden masks he keeps around him. Huge and imposing, but surprisingly a pretty swell dude.

"IDKYS/I Don't Know You, Sorry" (Filipino), aspiring would-be idol whose voice has overpowering hypnotic properties -- got enrolled in the school in order for her to develop her skillset without it. Ostensibly like a "cute mute" sorta scholarly student, actually very, very salty. Wears a cool mask that converts her voice to text and then back to into monotone text-to-speech (for safety reasons), is also rigged to an amplifier mic on a stand that she wields like a mace, has the power to blast people apart with SFX.

"Twintails" (Japanese), a transforming kitsune wizard/ninja who is two separate people from different secretive clans in one: a male wizard and a female ninja, who got "fused" together by a trickster yokai that caused them to share the same body, swapping between identities whenever they sneeze. They're both aware of each other and hate each other, habitually accusing the other for being the imposter yokai cohabiting their body, but are forced to work together to make it work.

"Metal Alice" (French), what was once the innocent young daughter to a supervillain, who perished following his last evil plan gone wrong. After attempting to resurrect her, Little Alice's spirit was "restored" into an old doll-like animatronic, which is itself now a walking portal to the ghost dimension. Is able to draw various weapons of phantasmic metals out of her body, from speared parasols to chainsaws. The "cute" kind of scary!

"Magnum" (American), the newest cyborg prototype from a company for mad scientist tech, designed of indestructible metals. Has the power to explode virtually any joint in his body like a bomb before automatically reassembling. Does it to fire his fingers/arms like projectiles, and is also a grappler. Was sent to the school to fix his raging ego problem. Speaks and dresses like a cowboy and has a nice hat. Deal with it.

"Hotshot" (Chinese), a guy who thinks and acts like he's the "shotoclone" protagonist of a normal fighting game (arrogant young martial artist with fire powers and always rearing for a fight), but is too arrogant to realize that this isn't the kind of story he's in (and also that he's a jackass). Despite this, he's very popular by way of the popular jock/bully who's a total dickhead but also so cooooool, and definitely the best student at a straight-on fight.

"Vioelectrolysis" (Motswana), a mad scientist in training who just LOVES making her crazy super-chemicals technicolor and do weird and unexpected things. Carries a bunch of it around in this modified fire extinguisher/gas tank that she can use to spray various super-fluids or swing around like a flail. Has a gas mask for her own protection; may or may not have mutated herself with something cool at some point.

"Marmaron" (Greek), an incomplete statue of a marble-like material that accidentally came to life while being made by a mysterious artist that Marmaron proceeded to kill, supposedly in self-defense. Doesn't have a face or a finished hand, splashed paint where his face should be to look even scarier presentable. Has the power to turn people into stone, but only temporarily. Spends his time minding his own business with painting and poetry, doesn't mind that everyone thinks he's creepy as hell.

#oc #brainstorming #characterbuilding #superhero

16 notes · View notes

bluef00t · 5 months

Note

thoughts on the ironhide storyline?

Knights of the Golden Circle: the Atomic Robo arc so peak that it's singled out in the site preview blurb.

Well, I'm assuming you mean that, and there isn't an Ironhide RSA I missed. (I'd read it! I prefer the spinoff genre characters to the real-person teams, which may defeat the purpose of the title Real Science Adventures, but whatever.)

"Thoughts." That's vague. Well, I love the bonkers set-up. There are other arcs that can absolutely only be done once (Ghost of Station X, Savage Sword of Dr. Dinosaur, Vengeful Dead), but only this one has the quality of Brian + Scott leaning in like "Okay. We know. We swore that causality is sacred and there will be NO time shenanigans, and that's STILL true. But just this once we're going to bend our own rule slightly, because we really, really, really want our robot to get to be a cowboy. Thanks for understanding."

The art's fantastic. I'm glad this one made it under the wire for the era of pencil-lined Robo volumes because the subtle textures really complete the grungy dusty look. The colors, too. Robo's electric blue and vril's crystalline pink stand out like alien intrusions in the sepia-toned world. Mwah.

My first time reading, I felt like it was a cop-out on the stable time loop to make Ironhide real in his own right. But since then my opinion has reversed! It cultivates a real air of Old West legend for Robo to be preceded by whispers of a reputation so shrouded in mystery that he doesn't even know it. I now actually think it should've taken Robo until maybe his dozenth public superhuman feat to realize I May Be Contributing To The Legend Somewhat.

Robo's initial interest in Ironhide strikes me as a riff on kids latching onto representation in comics. Especially when characters "like you" are stereotyped or absent, so you imprint on someone who isn't supposed to be like you, but represents your personal experience way more. But I'm probably projecting there.

Paradoxically to my RSA opinions, I like historical cameos in Robo proper. Holliday + Reeves + Robo are a really fun trio. Helsie is a fine "final boss", but I'm glad more time was spent on Caldwell's gang to get our fill of saloon shootouts and train chases first.

As an aside—pulps have a tendency to pick a villain from an "anti-American" political group with little thought put toward their underlying ideologies. (Which is how you get "our blonde superhuman can out-punch the Nazi ubermensch, so there" and incoherent Soviet/Nazi team-ups.) I point this out to say that the writing in Robo is generally better than that. It may tiptoe around historical politics a little (Helsingard is a Nazi collaborator, the Knights used to be Confederates), but the pulpy cyborg plot keeps at least one throughline: these were people in the human trafficking business for power and profit. And of the legends of the old west, Bass Reeves would have some very strong convictions about that.

Honestly a weakness here is that the story gives you a lot of hints in place of explanations and just trusts you'll work it out. Like the FIFTEEN YEAR timeskip. I only NOW, writing this, realized that the dates on the wall (which make no sense as "where am I in history?" guesses) are probably reactor lifespan calculations.

It's a better problem to have than agonizing infodumps or actual plot holes, but in some cases I liked my initial assumptions better than the real answers! Like, I first thought he was using his own heart to power his gadgets, and that's what was killing him so fast. Would've been metal if true. (I guess he did rebuild himself to make that possible later.)

Well, even minus that. It's a tasty cowboy trope for the protagonist to know they're already dying (or I've just listened to Streets of Laredo too many times) and a great time travel trope for the ending to be a foregone conclusion and our protagonist to still fight like hell to the bitter end. Yesssss.

In a way, this is already how readers experience the historical stories, trying to piece together the cost for this preordained victory with scraps of historical knowledge and faith that it will all make sense eventually. But this time Robo's in on it, too.

#atomic robo #But enough about me anon. What do YOU think #no really. I have like 1.5 friends who know this comic. Every time I reread it I'm mostly just grinning maniacally to myself

24 notes · View notes

otterlyfoolish · 4 months

Text

Eat Crow

(Zombieman x GN!Reader)

Warnings: Mentioned Human Experimentation, Animal Death, Abandonment, Implied Child Abuse/Neglect, Swearing, Blood & gore (come on this is ZM), self-harm (ZM does some reckless things), there's probably other things in here that I can't think of right now so if you're particularly sensitive maybe you should just avoid this,

Tags: Pining, borderline romance, strangers to friends, maybe lovers (in the future), Reader is starved for any kind of companionship, Unstoppable force & Immovable object, oneshot, angst, comfort (very barely), open-ended ending, so much build-up for a fucking oneshot, not edited so sorry

Word count: 11k

Summary:

Zombieman had what he thought was a simple case: "Find the source of the toxins in the assigned area."

One of his specialities is investigating contaminated or toxic areas - places that only robots or cyborgs could reach, areas where organic matter struggled to make it out alive. Other heroes would be dispatched to a monster infestation, and he would be sent to the local ghost town. This was fine to him - he would describe himself as more of an investigator than a hero anyways. So, in one way, this task was like no other.

In another way, he's never seen a case as peculiar as this. A product of human experimentation, just like him. He's never really had a case like this before. Curiously, they didn't seem to want to admit it. He can't blame them for their decision either - especially not after he found out some reasons why. And it's not like he could have found out the normal way - after all, what's considered poisonous to a dead man?

So, he couldn't quite complete his investigation - at that point, he couldn't really confirm or deny his suspicions. That is until he saw their touch wilt a crow's life within seconds.

...Well, the crow is already dead. You just have to eat it now.

-----

Ao3 Link here, if you prefer reading there!

A/N: I'm mostly writing this to ward off my impulses for the other idea I have for ZM - I can't start another multi chapter fic on him when I've not even finished the other one I'm writing right now... (TBH if I just dedicated my time writing this into that, I might have been able to finish it... Uhhh I just won't think about that)

I've kept this on the drafts so long, but now I've finally vomited it out (I ran it through a spell checker, not even edited) - I hope that it's coherent because I struggle editing so much, and I don't know if I have it in me to make it more articulate than it is... Uhhh story isn't fluid sorry (>>_>>)

But if I used the wrong pronouns for the Reader (anything that's not they/them) please feel free to point it out since it is supposed to be Gender-Neutral!

---

"QUARANTINED AREA AHEAD"

"TOXIC WASTE NEARBY"

"LEAVE NOW"

The danger signs were littered everywhere.

From the very moment he even came near the location - even miles away, he was warned not to approach. As he got closer, the signs and fences only increased in frequency. Just a few caution signs at first, illustrated by the humble exclamation mark. Then the potentially comedic skull and bones - pirates would be overjoyed at the sight of so many of them. And finally the unnerving biohazard symbol appears. He's never liked the look of it - maybe because he doesn't understand what it was actually supposed to be, or maybe it reminded him too much of Dr. Genus' lab - the same symbols were also hung up everywhere, the scientist liked to be organised after all.

The final hurdle was in sight now - a chain-linked fence with barbed wires that had rust collecting on the bright red sign that hung brazenly on the door.

"DANGER: YOUR LIFE IS AT RISK FROM THIS POINT FORWARD"

He nodded at the final warning as if letting the inanimate object know that he acknowledges the danger, then swung his axe against the metal lock, easily snapping it in half. Time must have also wore the lock down, helping the process of decay because it behaved far too flimsy.

If most people showed me as much concern as these signs did, then I would be out of a job.

He pushes on the door, the hinges on the door creak loudly as if it was doing a drum roll for his demise. As he walks through, he's careful to shut the door behind him and lock it with another one - the one he brought in preparation for this. As he does so, he notices that the key for it must have fallen out on the way over. It was his fault for not repairing the hole in his pocket after tearing it from his last brawl.

No way out now I guess...

He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and rubs the cherry on the back of his hand before he drops it on the floor, crushing it with his black boots. Just as quickly as the cigarette left his mouth, another replaces it, the lighter coming up as if joined together with the cigarette. The nicotine was too addicting, he didn't mind the lethal poison that accompanied the chemical potentially affecting his body.

He's been critiqued on his bad habits by a fellow hero before, the smoke was just flat out unhealthy to have near people, so he should stop.

(He puts it nicer than what was actually said - Tatsumaki had gathered the all of the smoke in the room with her powers and stuffed it back into his lungs, hissing out hostile remarks as she did so. The product of a particularly bad day. Apparently she couldn't find any monsters to kill, and that caused her foul mood. It doesn't help that he was probably the closest thing to a monster she found that day.)

Even so, Zombieman couldn't disagree with the comments made, and though he never stopped smoking, the thought always flashed in his mind for the briefest of moments.

But this time he lit it without any guilt of others. This was a completely isolated area, where the air was already considered toxic to all organic matter. What's the harm of adding a little bit more poison in the air?

He dragged a large cloud of smoke out from his lips as he exhaled, almost like a sigh of relief from the long journey. Almost drearily, his eyes followed the grey mist drift through the air before it quickly dissipated into the atmosphere, the very last remnants of it lingered in one spot before fully turning transparent. His red pupils slowly fixated on that spot as he spotted the building he was headed towards.

...Break over. Back to work.

His arm slung the axe over his shoulder, resting the weight of the metal head in the crook of his neck as he continued his descent to his destination. He walked with calm confidence, not fitting of a man that's entering a toxic waste zone, but that suited him.

The thrill of an investigation was too addicting, he didn't mind about the dangers that had been constantly waved in his direction.

Perhaps the danger even added to the thrill of it.

-----

"Toxic waste land...? Hm." He murmured to himself as the read over the file they sent him. The low clicking of the train wheels was just as faint as his voice as he spoke. Zombieman positioned himself to a quiet corner of the fairly empty train, the folder in front of him messily sprawled out, but in a fairly controlled manner.

He had requested it to be in paper format, call him old-fashioned, but he viewed the information to be more tangible that way. Besides, he often breaks the phone the Hero Association provides him anyways. Once Child Emperor had leaped at the opportunity to make him an 'unbreakable' phone after hearing the staff members talk about how this was the 'fourth one this week', it had a pretty good run, but he still lost it in the end.

...It makes him feel bad to bother the kid for another one, so he'll just do this until Isamu notices and chucks him another. He'll treat it more carefully this time, he didn't realise just how much shitter the one's he gets from the Hero Association is. Isamu really was a genius, but he didn't want to pressure him too much.

He flips through the information provided, it was choppy. The testimonies didn't seem clear, and there wasn't a lot found by HA. Well, a lack of information never stopped him. His red eyes scanned the pages, picking up what he deemed the most vital snippets of data and committed it to memory.

"...Laboratory...", "...Mithridate...", "...Antidote...", "...Pancea...", "Dozens died from poisoning", "...Scientists Evacuate...", "...Local Town Falls Sick From Mysterious Illness...", "...Abandoned Area...", "...No Organic matter found in the vicinity..."

He concluded after reading it, there used to be a remote laboratory out this far that was focusing on creating strong antidotes. But it seemed that they weren't able to control it effectively enough, and apparently some sort of sample hadn't been contained properly had caused many of the scientists to die from poisoning. It seems that even though they tried their best to clean the place and dispose of the source, there was still trace amounts lingering and many workers became sick. The entire building was forced to evacuate - and a few years later, apparently some of the people that had lived nearby had to be admitted to the larger general hospitals. It started happening too frequently without any obvious cause and people started moving away. Satellite scans showed that the grass around this place slowly started dying, and bird avoided migrating near the area all together.

All in all, an typical case for him. He predicts the following days to be somewhat laid back. His only objective was to find what was the source. The implication in that was that he didn't even have to get rid of it, only report back.

There was something bothering him though. Like when you feel your feet shift a little too much - you're nervous but you don't know why. Or when you felt a pair of eyes watching you, but you couldn't place who in the crowd of people would spend so much time on you.

Current suspicion: There was something more to this case.

They could simply send one of their many drones to check out the area, scope out if there's a leak that's causing the increase of toxins detected. But they sent him.

His first thought: They suspected there was a monster there, and wanted him to kill it.

He could do that, they often do when they're worried about a particularly dangerous monsters most heroes couldn't defeat without wearing it down massively. But they didn't say anything in the report - they kept it hidden from him. To feign ignorance of the missing piece of the puzzle before even asking him for assistance.

...But why?

He's never shown hesitation to brutalise monsters. It's written in his fucking Encyclopedia page - something Bang had showed him after his disciple had pointed it out to him, and the old man just had to pass on the message, chuckling at the descriptors. Something something about how gore and death followed him or something along those lines.

...Is it related to Dr. Genus?

He clenches the paper a little too tightly, crumpling the otherwise pristine pages. The Hero Assocication might have had an inkling to his past. He never talked about it much, but did they find out? He wouldn't put it pass them - staying private in this day and age was getting more and more difficult by the day even if it would do both parties good if they stayed in their own lane. If they did know about his days of being an experimental sample, why were they assigning him to this case?

...Was this their way of turning their cheek the other way? By letting him confront his own past alone?

"...Sir?" He hears the train conductor walk over to him, nervously eyeing him up as the scowl on his face grows deeper at the thought of meeting the Doctor again. "This is the last stop." He hears as he snaps out of his thoughts, tilting his head up to look at the lady.

"...Thanks."

"...Are you sure about getting off here? There's nothing for a few dozen miles..."

"I'm sure. Thank you." He said, picking up the axe he had placed on the wooden floorboards, but didn't raise it above his head to rest on his shoulder like usual. Instead, he kept the metal head close to the ground, the blade pointed towards him and never her. He didn't want to alarm the lady.

"No, it's fine... I've not seen someone get off at this stop for perhaps a couple years now... It's nice to see people still come here in this little corner of the world - you know there's a forest a hour or so west from here? Beautiful place, you should check it out." She rambled on, the smile on her face causing the corners of her eyes to wrinkle. "Used to go there when I was young, took this same train out. I'm just a little too old for that now."

He nodded politely at her, taking note of the sun spots speckled on her skin. "...You're still younger than me, so there's no need to talk like that."

Besides, it's a privilege to be able to age. I'm sick of looking at the same damned thing everyday.

"Oh, aren't you a charmer..." She laughed, slowly escorting him down over to the train doors. He trotted after her, his boots made a small sound with each step he took. "Don't forget, the next time this train will be here is at eight tonight. Don't be late or you'll have to spend the night camping." She said, only getting a simple nod from him before the doors closed on her.

...A forest? I guess the toxins or whatever hasn't spread that far yet then...

As he walked away, he raised his axe back up and slammed it back on his shoulder, resting it there. Something of an reminder that he's on duty.

He's grown used to the weight of the axe.

-----

The building is fairly large - almost industrial. He could see it as a speck in the distance, but as he approached, he see that it's size wasn't anything much to be scoffed at. Definitely not at big at the ones he's seen at HA, but still, impressive.

As he approached the laboratory, he could see a... Fully-clad yellow figure running full speed at him.

Like second nature, he pulled out the guns from his sleeves and swung his axe back down to his midsection, his palms tightly gripping the weapons. It couldn't be a civilian - they would be fatally ill at this point from being this close to the site.

His blood-coloured eyes scanned the person (or perhaps monster) sprinting up at him. At closer inspection, he could tell that it was a human wearing a hazmat suit.

...Zombieman slowly retracted his desert eagle back into his trench coat and the axe also returned to its last position. There didn't seem like there was an danger yet, more so someone he needs to interrogate.

...Maybe there's still some people working here without anyone knowing?

They were... waving at him? He raised his thin eyebrow at them, shifting over to a more relaxed stance than before. He waited for them to approach - and as this mysterious figure got closer, he could hear muffled shouting from them as their hand waving in the air got more frantic. He noted that in their other hand, there was a blue gas mask.

He debated snuffing out his cigarette, but kept it in his mouth. It's not like they would be affected judging by the protection they're already wearing.

By the time they were close enough to him so that he could hear their words, it didn't matter since they were huffing out their lungs trying to breath in as much air as they could. Sprinting must have been hard - the hazard suit and heavy boots didn't help do them any favours either.

"...Are you alright?" He asked, staring down at him as they doubled over. The sound of their heavy breathing was clear even through the thick suit.

Regardless of their exhausted state, they sluggishly yanked him down to their level and slapped the spare gas mask onto his face. "...uckING STUPID!"

The impact of the plastic against his face caused him to glare at them with squinted eyes as he took the mask. He didn't bother dodging it - it's not like the action was malicious anyways. The force of which the firm plastic wasn't painful enough for him to make a noise, but he still grunted from the shock of their actions. "...What'd you say?"

They didn't respond, seeming satisfied with the fact he taken the respirator from them already and just crumpled back over on their form. He gave them a moment to gather their breath. "...Don't you know that this is a toxic area...? What the hell are you doing without any equipment...?"

He crouches down to their level, seeing as they were still catching their breath and he couldn't quite hear between their suit and the small distance. "I don't need it. What are you doing here?"

They tilted their head over to him, seeing that he had taken the blue mask off and just hung it around his neck by the strap. "...I live here."

Live? Not work?

"...Then don't you know that this is a toxic area?" He parroted the question back to them, trying to look into their eyes, or face, only to see that the glass they see out of is a reflective surface. Only his red eyes locked on with his own. His

"The inside of my house is safe, when I go out I wear this." There's something about the way in which they said it which made him think that they had rolled their eyes at him as they spoke.

"House?" He brushed off their attitude quickly, he didn't really care about it to begin with anyways, "what house?"

"Why would I tell a stranger where I live?" They snapped back, getting back up on their feet. Zombieman quickly followed suit. "What are you doing here anyways?"

"I'm a Hero. I've been sent here to find the source of the poison in this area." As if on cue, their head tilted at him in disbelief. He goes on to answer further, hoping it would dispel any more of their suspicion. "...You can call me Zombieman."

He could tell even without any facial expressions to help him nothing he said was convincing. "...Alright, 'Hero Zombieman'... If you've been sent here to investigate, then why didn't they send you off with any equipment with you? We both know that this isn't the safest place to be."

A reasonable question, he supposes. He just hopes that the answer he gives them is just as logical in their eyes. "I can't die - hence my name."

"...Can't die?" They repeated slowly, taking a few steps back from him. He could see the distrust in their body language, and he wanted to fill the gap quickly - they probably had a lot of information on this area he didn't. "...Don't lie to me, everything dies."

He nodded at them, trying to indicate that he acknowledges their suspicion then pulled his gun back out. They're not given much time to react to it, as the muzzle was pointed at his temple, his finger on the trigger. "I'll prove it."

Just as he pulled the trigger ever so slightly, he notices in that split second they've close the distance between them instantly. Their hands shooting out to tear the weapon out of his hands-

Only for him to tilt it ever so slightly upwards from its original position in surprise - instead of the bullet going through his skull at a straight line, it was just angled slightly differently, shooting through the top of his skull.

They froze up at the sight - the pink of the bone and the pink of his brains, the smell of blood was thick and metallic. They could smell it even through their suit, and nothing about their protection could block the sight of his hand. Limp. In your grasp.

Zombieman examined at them from the corner of his eyes, feeling that their hands was trembling slightly through the thick gloves they wore. It was from either the sight of his skull being blown open or the fact they thought he was now dead.

...I wanted to close the gap between us, but not physically...

"...Proof enough?" He asks, moving his head to face them. They practically leaped back, even in the chunky boots and protective gear they were wearing, they found themselves a couple feet even further than before.

...Was that too much?

No, I only shot myself. That's nothing.

...Am I too numb to gore compared to the average person?

"...Yeah. Yeah. I believe you." They say, their voice shaking as they watched the hole slowly fill itself back up again. First the grey matter in the brain, then the pink plating of the skull, and finally his pale skin and dark hair. It was as if nothing had ever happened - the only proof that they had was the dark streaks of blood that ran down his temple and the small splatters of flesh that had ended up on them. They did their best to quickly compose themselves."...So... Uhm... Do- do you need anything...?"

He nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt at their reaction. Yeah, it was too much to witness. Next time, he'll just cut his hand off or something. "Could you get me into that laboratory? I want to inspect it to see if I can find anything inside."

"...I can do that, follow me." They agreed, probably still in shock and stiffly placed one foot in front of the other, their hands having the same nature of movement - almost mechanically.

He was quiet for a minute, looking around the building. He wanted to ask more questions about them, but he had a feeling he needed to build back some sort of foundation of trust again if he wanted any good answers. Short, snippy ones aren't bad, but more detail is better this time.

"...What's your name?" He starts off simple.

They slowly moved their head over in his direction, stopping in their tracks. He briefly thinks for a moment that asking for that was too soon, but when he hears your name slowly uttered from your lips the thought is gone. He could sense the uncertainty of his character coming off in waves, but you still chose to tell him.

He nodded, "I'll keep that in mind."

"...And I don't think I'll be able to forget yours." He could hear you mumble faintly as you took long strides over to the entrance door. "Mr. 'Can't die'..."

...I don't mind if you were able to find a way to change that name of mine.

He didn't correct your words, and accepted his newfound alias. "How come you have access to the lab?"

It took you a while to respond, at first he just thought you didn't hear him or maybe you were busy fiddling with the keypad on the door, but it seems that you were considering telling him or not.

...Zombieman lowered his axe, resting it at his side. He may still be on duty, and it's not even the weapon he used to shoot himself, but it's not like he needed it this very moment. And if it helped soothe your worries even a little, then it will have been worth it.

When you get the door open, you turn back around to face him. He still can't see your eyes, but he could feel yours staring at him - cautiously inspecting him and his intentions before opening the door. "...This is where I live." You answered him.

...Huh, it worked.

He hummed appreciatively through his cigarette, reaching up and holding the door open for you. You paused your movements for a moment and nodded back, "...Thanks."

"No problem." He replied back, then followed after you, shutting the door after himself. When he walks in, he realises that the entrance is double sealed - one door after another to ensure that as little toxic gas leaves or enters. "So, you live in a lab...?" He says, practically repeating already known information in the hopes you'll slip out a little more data for him to piece together.

"Mhm. There's lab equipment everywhere." You say, though not intentional, your tone was pretty dismissive. It makes him wonder if he should play the long game or the short game.

He sticks to the former - besides, if he's really pressed up for time for whatever reasons, he can resort to more... forceful methods.

You open the other door, pressing even more buttons on the security system before beckoning him to follow through, holding the door open for him. "Quick - if you're there for too long, the doors will automatically shut and won't open without a special password."

"Oh." He nodded, the sounds of his boots increasing before the heavy door clicked securely shut. The two of you were now locked in together - he wonders if you're more anxious than him about the situation. One hand hand, he could be locked in with a mad scientist and be subjected to experimentation once again. On the other hand, he was a man that doesn't exactly have any indication of sane mental health paired with the fact he has a fair variety of weapons on his person ready to go any moment.

...They should be more scared than me.

"Do you work here?" He asks, trying to place down the foundations of trust.

"Yeah...?" You say, your thick gloves grabbing the other and pulling them off. "I'm... something of a researcher. Or something along those lines." The way you said it could be viewed as avoidant, or simply distracted - judging by the way your now exposed hands was fiddling with the hazard suit, taking it off and throwing them into a large plastic container off to the side of the door. Presumably to be disinfected and reused. "I've just been told to stay here until the toxins reach an acceptable level. Then I'm free to leave."

He narrowed his eyes at you, taking mental notes on your choice of words and actions. It was entirely unconscious behaviour, akin to second nature - Zombieman was already crafting a mental corkboard of everything he knew about this place and you. You took the final piece off, your large headpiece, finally revealing your face to him.

His eyes fixated on you, his red irises re-examined your figure, taking new mental notes to add to his corkboard. His eyes found their way following a sweat drop that traced the side of your face, a small trail of liquid trailed down your facial features before the head of it became too small to follow anymore. He briefly wondered it that sweat was a shade or two darker than it was supposed to be, but concluded that it was just the lighting of the room. "...Hot in that thing, huh?"

"...Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess I'm not really used to it..." You say, not noticing him observing you.

...Not used to the hazmat suit, I don't recognise them from the list of scientists provided, and they're uncertain about their role.

Current thoughts: You've turned out more suspicious than he thought.

-----

Nervously, your eyes kept glancing over to him, drinking in every detail of him that you could with each glance. At first, you thought it was the glass of your suit playing tricks on your vision when you spotted his red eyes, but even when you took your headpiece off and looked over him again, they were still red.

Blood red, to be more specific, especially now that you had a very, very recent reminder of the colour of blood.

His skin was almost porcelain white, but there was something of a grey undertone to it. His hair was a ink black and his getup didn't have a single drop of colour - the only thing you could even perhaps suggest that had a hue was the buckles of his (many) belts strung tightly against his chest. Everything combined, this monochrome sense of fashion contrasted with his striking red eyes and dark eye bags made it incredibly easy for you to focus on his face. Basically a sinkhole of attention.

Zombieman... From that name, you'd expect more decay, but...

...He's handsome. You concluded, as you kept finding your eyes shifting over to him as you showed him about the place. But he's also scary. Why would he shoot himself to prove a point...?

"Are you gonna show me around...?" He asked after what must have been you staring a little too long at him.

"Sorry." You say, turning your head away from him. Despite looking at him so carefully, you couldn't pick up on his mild discomfort. You try to remedy the situation, giving a honest reason to your actions should suffice, right? "...I was just thinking that you're very visually appealing."

The answer seems to shock him, or at the very least, throw him off his feet a little. His eyes widened at your response before he tilting his face slightly to his right clearing his throat into the sleeve of his trench coat. His left hand seemed to tighten his grip around his axe. "...Thank you."

You think that you shouldn't have said that - was he uncomfortable? You don't really have much of a chance to interact with people, and it's leaves you wondering your next move.

...Should I apologise? What did I do wrong? Is there such thing as too honest?

On quick glance back up at him, tells you that if he did feel uncomfortable by you, he's recovered. He's leaning against the plain white walls with his axe by his side. You note the fact he still hasn't raised it back onto his shoulder - whatever the reason for this, it somewhat made you feel more relaxed.

"...Uh, I'll take you around the first floor first...? It's mostly just like laboratory equipment, but it might help you?" You say, trying to gauge his reaction.

He simply nodded, and as you took your first step, so did he. You glanced back to see that he was a step or two closer behind you than before as you walked down the large white hallways.

...I hope that he leaves soon.

Just before you stepped through into another set of doors, there was a few equipment littered on the walls of the lab. Coats, gloves, masks. Though, you've used and ruined most of them at this point.

Please, please, leave.

You watched him place down the gas mask you had given him earlier alongside the other ones lined up on the wall for anyone to take. The others were faulty at this point, the one he put back down was one of the only ones that still functioned at this point.

It's not safe here, even for you.

-----

"...That thing..." You say, gesturing to him, your index finger waved over his face a couple times. "...smells terrible. Do you need it or something?"

He raised one eyebrow at you, wondering if his breath smelt for a moment before realising what you were saying. "...My cigarette?" He asked, taking it out of his mouth, bringing it a little closer to you to confirm your request. Your lips tightened and your eyebrows narrowed at the distance decreasing. So it is. "I suppose that I don't need it."

"Yeah, that... cigarette." You say, slowly rolling the word out on your tongue as you took a step back. "If you don't need it, can you get rid of it? There's vents all over the place, but I'm worried that smell will linger if you keep using it."

"...Sure, do you have an ash tray or something of that kind?" He asked, rubbing the lit part of the cigarette over the back of his hand. The burning sensation felt like it was shorter each time - the initial burn from the very first time he put out his smoke was almost exciting to feel. Now, it feels like pointless rebellion.

You looked at him, blinking. It took you a second to respond to him, trying to think of what would be suitable. Your eyes glanced around the room, landing on the shelf of conical flasks, before the blanket hung up on the wall that's placed there in case of a fire emergency.

...He thinks he likes the way your features scrunched up as you rapidly skimmed through all of the available items. You looked like you were in in deep thought over something rather minor - maybe he likes the way you took him so seriously, or was it the way you were so confident you could find a replacement within the confines of the room within seconds?

It didn't take you too long to find something. "...There's sand bins. Will that do?"

"Mhm." He nodded, and you walked over to the bucket filled with sand - presumably, it was to put out fires, but it could also be repurposed for a more crude use. Your hands wrapped around the bucket's handle, planning to bring it over to him, but he simply just followed after you and smothered the cherry into the sand. There was no chance of it catching fire now.

You nodded at him, then pointed at another table with glass equipment on top, giving a rather detail explanation to him as you picked up different parts - he was barely listening, his mind quickly filing away this odd morsel of information about you as he got back to his actual work.

...Have they never seen a cigarette before?

I mean, public smoking places are less and less common nowadays, but still...

He thought your behaviour was strange, but it'd be rude to point out. He let you continue guiding him around the lab. Besides, if you felt comfortable enough to tell him to stop smoking, then you must be somewhat amicable towards giving him more intel.

-----

The two of you finish the tour of the first floor, and you glanced over to the clock on the wall. "...I'm gonna head off to lunch. You can join if you want." You say, walking away from him and into another room. He peered in - seems like a break room for staff. He debated joining you, or wandering off on his own to investigate.

The former wins as he argues that he could just wander about later. It didn't seem like you were rushing about to get him to leave quickly anyways. If anything, he'd say you enjoyed the company judging by how he often caught you waiting for him to catch up when he spotted something of interest. Or when you stared at him intently when he spoke, taking his questions to heart.

...Or it could be for another reason. Tons of people flocked to Amai Mask for one big reason, Zombieman just... never suspected he'd be on the receiving end of the same kind of attention.

...'Visually appealing.' What is that supposed to mean?

As he enters the break room, he spots you waiting patiently by the microwave. There's a rather large pile of delivery boxes collected in the corner of the room. Perhaps one would feel shame at a 'guest' of sorts seeing the mess, but you didn't seem to care much. Upon noticing him, you opened the microwave door and added another packet of food.

I guess I'm eating too now.

He stands next to you, pretending to also wait for lunch, but in reality he just stared at you from the corner of his eyes. It doesn't take you long to return the action, your pupils also shifting over to his direction.

The two of you share eye contact until you turn away and go back to staring at the packets of food spinning around in the microwave. He lets out something of a cough, then goes to check his phone, (It's not like the could just whip out the files he had brought with him right in front of you anyways), maybe you were on the lists of scientists, and he just doesn't remember you that well.

Your eyes are casted away from your lunch, catching the glimpse of movement in the corner of your eyes. "...Whoa, you have a real nice phone..."

He tilts his head up at you, then turns the screen off before giving his device a quick spin for you to see if you wanted. You nodded at this, as if you were some sort of phone collector inspecting the goods before buying.

"No," he shakes his head, giving it a closer inspection as he spun it despite already giving it a verdict. "It can't even withstand falling off a skyscraper."

"...I don't think that's a good way to measure it." You say, a ghost of a smile on your lips. "Here." You fiddled with your pockets, before pulling out what he thinks is a brick at first as you carelessly held it out to him. "Here's one I found a couple years ago. Under my Dad's desk."

"...Maybe I do have a nice phone." He says, staring down at the device as you let out a small laugh out at him.

The phone was pretty old.

The equipment in the lab also looks quite old, but I don't know enough about it to know if it's actually old, or if it's just old compared to Isamu's hoard of equipment.

It seems like you had enough money to deliver food to yourself, but not enough to fund your research. You probably aren't being paid.

Probably because you aren't a real researcher.

But his conclusion just brings more questions than answers - why would you stay out here if you aren't getting paid well? You've been tasked with staying here until the toxins have subsided, but why would you do that? Money clearly wasn't the reason - maybe it was something more personal. His eyes meandered across the room until it landed.

Maybe it was your Dad.

"...Say, your dad worked here too?" He asks, slowly reaching out to take the phone from you, feigning fake interest in the device in your hands. His cold fingers brushed against your skin making your breath hitch - practically throwing the phone away from yourself.

He caught it before it collided against the surface of the table, but he wasn't even looking at the phone anymore as his eyes shifted over to you, examining your body language quickly to figure out what caused that reaction from you.

You held one hand in the other, your eyes fixated on him, one foot back and holding your breath as if you were waiting for one of you to drop on the floor. The two of you shared a look, the room sinking into a tense quietness. Just as he was about to speak, apologise, anything that felt right to say, you babbled something to dispel the tension.

"O-Oh! Yeah!" You exclaimed, slowly taking your footing back to it's original position. He didn't care so much about the answer anymore after your reaction but still, he listened. "My mother did too. Uh, both of them worked together. H-here."

"Huh..." He nodded, accepting the fact the two of you will skip past that moment. He felt his hand tingle from where your skin touched it - it was almost the same sensation as the one he used to get when pressing the lit part of the cigarette against his skin. Burning, hot. Maybe painful to a normal person but an fleetingly exciting moment to him. "And then you started working here too?"

"...Uh, yeah. Been here for a long time." You say, the words slow to come out. Your eyes drifted away from him and your hand slowly reached back over to the phone he had caught and placed on the table before retracting it back into your pockets. "Actually, I've been here... for a really long time."

He nodded, "how long?"

You didn't answer him at first, only tilted your face over to his direction. You looked... lost. Like you weren't sure what you were doing, or what's even going on. A sense of distant confusion with a vague or faraway goal. "I... don't know."

He frowned. You didn't seem like you were bad-intentioned, but you also seemed like a vital part of this mystery. "How come?"

You pursed your lips, turning away from him again before the microwave went off. The beeps echoed through the silence of the lunch room.

"...Lunch is ready." You say, opening the door of it. "You don't have any allergies do you?"

"No, but even if I did," he made some sort of general motion towards himself. You made a 'Ohh' sound. Some colour returned to your face that he didn't quite realise had left it.

...They don't know? How is that possible?

Also, their parents worked here, and now they do as well. They're most likely staying here not out of choice - are they trapped here? Threatened to stay? Guilt? You couldn't pay most people to stay in such a dangerous area.

"I've just been told to stay here until the toxins reach an acceptable level. Then I'm free to leave."

...What kind of messed up family business is this?

Zombieman could only see the rabbit hole grow deeper the longer he looked in - yet he'll jump head first anyways. He was never much for self preservation.

That same trait comes the thought: if he touches your hand again will it burn the same thrilling way?

-----

After you showed him around the whole lab, he concluded that there was nothing there was still working - and even if there was, it wasn't anything large-scale enough to cause such a large waste area. In fact, the only experiment he saw was you spitting into a test tube and then running it through a machine. Something to do with how it can detect what kinds of chemicals are inside it.

But that machine was clearly broken since he recognised many of the listed items inside to be toxic. You had explained that you had fixed it up after finding it in the storage room, but since that room wasn't well maintained, there was a chance that the toxic air was just stuck inside it now. At least, that's the conclusion you came to, and he didn't see a reason to deny it.

Apart from that, it was mostly you just explaining what each room was and the equipment inside. The tour was over quicker than he thought - but there truly wasn't anything noteworthy. The past researchers had taken all of the papers with them, so he couldn't snoop around to see if there was any information he was missing. It didn't seem like you were trying to hide anything either. You've always seemed like you were honest - perhaps a little apprehensive, but most of that was mostly because, well, he was a stranger in your home.

"That's all... I think I'll get going to bed soon, do you need anything or..."

"No, that's all." He said. "I think I'll get going."

"...At this time?" You ask, seeing him walk out to the door, trying to open it. His hands pressed randomly against the wall's buttons. Quickly, you walked over to him. "Are you going home?"

"I've missed the train, so I can't really go back, but I've been given a recommendation to visit a forest." He says, watching you as you brushed his hands aside to help him open the sealed doors. It burned like before, "I think I'll go check it out," he thinks he wants to feel it again."...Then I'll probably come back with a fresh mind."

"...Seriously?" You asked, pulling the door open for him. "You're gonna spend the nights in the woods?"

"Well, it takes a while to walk over. By the time I get there, it might be sunrise." He says, walking through the first set of doors. Your eyes nervously switched between him and the door, unsure if he was really going to walk back out into the toxic wasteland. "Thanks, I'll see you tomorrow. Or if I find the source of the poison, this will be the last you'll be seeing me."

"...Yeah. That's... fine." You nodded, now trotting over to him, hand hovering over the keypad to let him out. The inner set of doors shut tightly behind you, a slight hissing sound as the air was compressed in the room, ensuring that none of the toxins got in as the vents whirred faster in anticipation. "Here, I'll let you go."

He paused, looking over at you. "Don't you need your hazmat suit?"

Your index finger stopped over one of the buttons as you started pressing the password to get out. "...No, it'll be fine. My parents said that I have a higher immunity to this sort of stuff anyways."

"...Okay, if you say so." He nodded, accepting your words. Every rotting bone in his body was screaming that there was something off about the way you said it, but his heart didn't utter a single peep in protest. He wonders if you're hiding the truth from him judging from his physical reaction to your words.

You nodded back at him, your eyes flicking back up at his for one more time before the door opens, a small gust of wind blew his hair back a little as the heavy entrance opened itself - exposing the two of you to the chilly evening air. "...It's nice meeting you." You say, your words as distant as you could muster with your almost wistful expression.

"...You too." He nodded simply, taking a step out, his boots landing on the dirt footing outside. He paused then turned his head back, speaking again as if he couldn't leave without finishing his all of his thoughts. "Real pleasure to meet you."

You blinked at him repeatedly, taken aback. There was... a slight smile on his face? You weren't given a chance to respond back before the doors let out loud 'beeps' rapidly and the doors slammed down.

He turned back around, taking a couple steps forwards as he languidly pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. His eyes casted over the cherry of the cigarette, watching it catch a flame as he took in a deep, slow breath, inhaling as much of the smoke he could. Impatient, he'd usually call himself for trying so hard to get the taste of the poison as quick as he did just moments after lighting it. It's just getting him more hooked on the nictotine (if he could be anymore addicted), it'll kill him faster (if he could die). But this time he won't fault himself even with all the negatives.

Smoking won't help relieve this... feeling, but it won't make it worse either, he supposes.

His boots forcefully move his body forward as he let out a low grumble.

Move. He urges himself. This is ridiculous. I barely know them.

"Wait!" He heard from behind him, and he found his head turning around without his input. "...I have some sort of car in the lab. Do... you want me to drive you to the forest...?" You ask, holding something of a car key attached to the lanyard around your neck, jangling the sliver object.

...Zombieman knows that it's not the first time you smoke you become addicted. It's the second time.

"Yeah, that's be great." He responses, the cigarette practically falling out of his mouth as he spoke, but he barely cared, only catching it in his hands and crushing it in his palm. It burned - but he barely felt it.

He didn't know that infatuation worked in a similar way to chemical addiction.

-----

You drove him over to the forest, his voice quietly murmuring out the directions for you to drive him. He had made some sort of comment on the car being a off-road vehicle, but you didn't fully get what he was trying to say.

The interior of the car was cold, the heater was very slowly warming it's way up. He insisted that it didn't bother him, but even so, you tried cranking that bloody thing up all the way. There's not much fuel in the car to begin with, but you didn't mind using it on him. It's not like you were going to be driving again.

"Keep going straight, try to avoid that rock if you can." He says, his hand motioning towards the obstacle on the ground.

"O-okay..." You nodded, trying your best to keep the car steady. There was practically sweat dripping down your arms from your nervousness. "Like this...?"

"Mhm." He nodded, "do you not drive often?" He asked, noting your anxious features that was crawling it's way up your face.

"No, uh, can- can you tell...?" You say, pressing the accelerator a little harder, making the car go faster.

"Well, we've been either going 20 or quadruple that. You've not really decided on a constant speed to drive at." He said, pointing a finger at the speedometer. "Also, I've been the one controlling the stick shift since you keep putting it in the wrong one."

"...Ah."

"I think you don't even know how to drive, but I don't really mind." He says, leaning his arm out the window as he blew out another cloud of smoke out of the vehicle. "You got the air bags, so you'll be fine even if we crash."

"...Maybe I'm just a really bad driver." You mutter, feeling your face grow hot even in the cold breeze that came in through the window.

"It's not a maybe." He says, turning back to you, "but it doesn't matter. I appreciate your help. I'll teach you how to drive for real after we get to the forest."

You raised an eyebrow at him, "You can drive?"

"...Eh." He makes a non-committal sound until you shot him a questioning glance, making him answer you properly. "...I don't have a valid licence, but I can drive."

"...So you're just as qualified as me?" You laughed, "or perhaps just as unqualified as me?"

"No, I've passed before. It's just that I've not driven in so long I don't know if I pass the current standards." He answers, maybe a little quickly as you chuckle at his explanation, not exactly buying his answer. "I should still be valid to drive."

"What are you, a old man?" You laughed, the car slowing down as your foot released the pedal, your mind too distracted by what he just said to properly process both things at once. "How could your licence just expire?"

"I had a licence before I was used for human experimentation and I've not had the time to try to renew it." He answers causally, taking in another breath of the smoke before breathing it back out. "I think."

You almost completely stopped the car before turning your head back over to him. "...Huh?"

He turns back to you, staring back into your eyes as your face grew pale at his words, unsure of what to say in response to him. "It's not a secret. I just don't talk about it."

"...Oh." You nodded, then took your hands off the wheel and your foot off as well. "...Is that why you can't die?"

"...Yeah." He nodded, then blew out one last cloud of smoke before he rubbed the light out on his skin again. There wasn't a moment of hesitation between his actions and words - he's too used to the pain he inflicts on himself. The slightest pink tinge on his skin from the burn is gone within less than a second.

The car let out a splutter, filling in the silence that took place in the car. Then stopped dead in it's tracks. "...Uh oh." You glanced down at the screen in front of you, trying to see what went wrong. "...I think we're out of fuel."

"...Mhm. Yeah." He agreed, glancing over to you. "It's fine, we're mostly there anyways." He says, nodding his head forward as he indicated towards your destination.

Your eyes casted over to the view in front of you - you didn't even realise until he pointed it out, but the two of you reached the forest he was guiding you to earlier.

It was dark, the bark of the trees was jet black against the faint light that shone down on the trees. You could barely see past them to see their fellow family. You've never seen them before in person - it was much larger than you had expected. The air smelt... clean.

Even so, it doesn't keep your attention for long as you looked back over to the man next to you. His pale skin contrasted strongly against the darkness outside, his red eyes shifted over to you, and you could pick up on the slight tinge of metal from the dried blood from earlier.

He didn't look human. He didn't have the warm undertones of blood running underneath people's skins. His response to pain was too lukewarm. He had no reaction to being in such grave danger. 'Zombieman' fit him.

"...Shall we go?" He offers, clicking open the car door for him to leave. "You can stay if you want."

"...No, I'll join you."

But he was still far, far more human than you were.

-----

The two of you wandered out into the woods. You flicked your flashlight on while he bravely moved forward in the dark, unafraid of any possible dangers that would be lurking in the woods.

"...Are you looking for something in particular?" You asked, your eyes flicking back over to him as you carefully shined down towards the ground to see where you were placing your heavy-duty boots.

"No." He replied back, still moving like a man on a mission. "The train conductor said that I should drop by here if I had time. I have time."

"...Do you think you'll find your source of poison?" You asked, your voice wavering towards the end, almost backpedalling last second in the hopes he didn't hear you.

He tilted his head backwards, glancing back towards you when you asked. "...I think it's from your home. I just don't know how yet."

*...How honest.

Well, I suppose that he doesn't really have anything to be afraid of anything he can't die. There's not much reason for him to lie.

"...I see." You nodded, your palms feeling slightly clammy after his answer.

...I wonder if he opened up about his past in the hopes that I'd also be more honest with him.

He continued to stride ahead, not taking any particular detours, walking in a straight line forward as he dragged his axe across the ground. It was still low to the ground.

...I hope not. Because I think it's working.

Then, you heard a branch snap off in the distance. You froze up instantly, your feet stuck on the dirt as your head swung over in the direction of the noise as you tried to find the source.

Finally, Zombieman stopped walking, standing still as he tilted his head in the same direction as the sound, the two of you almost perfect mirrors of each other.

"...We have company." He says, as he takes a step over to the sound, swinging his axe upwards to lean rest on his shoulder as he began to stroll over. You think you heard the metallic 'click' of his gun as well. "Let's give them a proper hello."

You flicked your head back and forth, from him to off in the distance of where the car was. Even if your vehicle couldn't move and was useless, you'd still rather go and hide in there over wherever the hell he was waddling off to. "C-Can we not...? If I die, I die."

He didn't acknowledge you maybe he didn't hear, only pressing on and got further and further away from even as the flashlight didn't reach that far ahead. You flipped a coin in your head to decide your choice to join him or leave. You mentally cursed yourself. Repeatedly.

...I guess I'm going too...

Even your feet protested against your brain's decision, but you ignored it and willed them to go on.

It didn't take long for him to stop in front of a bush, looking down at the source of the sound. You think that he's already taken care of the problem before you step past the shrub blocking your vision to see what he was looking at.

"...That's a crow...?" You murmured, your eyes fixed on the bird struggling to get off the ground - there was a sense of pure curiosity even at the sight of the animal in pain. "It's... small."

Zombieman barely paid attention to your words - it wasn't that he didn't find them interesting, it's just that he want to focus his efforts on something else right now.

"Mhm, it might be young." He nodded as he stepped out from behind the shrub. The bird started letting out sounds - perhaps to try to warn the man to step back, but he continues forward. "I think the wing is broken." he explains, pointing to the broken branch next to the animal with his axe. "I guess it hit the tree pretty hard and this is the result."

"Oh," you watched him crouch down to the bird, gently picking it up. It squawked louder as he picked it up to inspect it. "...So, do we help it?"

"...I don't know if we can." He replies back, picking it up with both hands, leaning the head of the axe in between his head and his shoulder as if he was taking a phone call with it. "...Have you ever taken care of a bird before?"

"...I've barely even seen a bird before, I'll be honest." You say, the works almost slipping out without you thinking much of it. He flicked his eyes over to you questioningly but didn't verbalise his thoughts. He was still intent on playing the long game.

"I guess we can take it back to the car for now." He says, his fingers clutching onto the torso of the bird firmly as he tried to support it's wing. Do you have any equipment in the car?"

"Maybe...? There's stuff in the back, we could try helping it." You say, nodding along with him as he began to walk back out the woods, you walking in front to guide him out with the only source of light between the two of you. "...Being a hero must be hard work." You mutter under your breath, your eyes flicking back to him practically cradling the animal in his arms as he steadily supported it to prevent it from hurting itself anymore. It's stopped crying at this point. "You even have to tend to the needs of even animals."

"Nothing worth doing is easy." He responses, picking up on your quiet words, his boots unshakeable even as he stepped on multiple uneven tree roots. "...Besides, this isn't my usual work. I investigate dangerous areas or suspects. My information isn't useful without someone to put it to good use. Helping others is inherently heroic. What I do isn't." He says, almost putting himself down as he spoke even if he didn't intent to. His tone was blunt and factual - he wasn't looking for reassurance.

"...Someone has to be the tester. Any important situation needs one." You say, your words sounding almost rehearsed as you spoke. Like you've heard it many times before. "...You fill a role no one else can."

He shifted his attention away from the crow, his head lifted up to look at you as you spoke. You didn't turn your head around though, only faced forward. He couldn't see what kind of expression was on your face.

-----

You opened the car door for him, letting him gently lower the bird onto the passenger seat of the car. The warm air that was somewhat there from the car heater was no longer in the vehicle, now it also reached the temperature of the cold air around you. Neither of you minded, but you still couldn't help the goosebumps crawling up your arms as a strong gust came every so often.

"Go watch it, I'll go check the back of the car." Zombieman said, resting the animal down before he swiftly walked away to open the boot of the car.

"O-Okay..." You nodded, briefly watching him move away from you two before you looked back down to the bird.

It had black ruffled feathers, and bright dark eyes. Eyes that seemed to stare deep into your inner being. It let out another echoing caw as it tried to fly again, getting up on it's feet. You quickly stepped forward, trying to discourage it's escape with your body. You hoped that you didn't actually have to touch it.

It stared up at you, then cried loudly. Clearly something of a battle cry as it then tried to fly - but was only able to hop forward.

You let out a fumbling cry of shock, your eyes seeing it fall off the car in slow motion. You had to catch it- You aren't wearing gloves- You can't touch it-

You have to catch it-

Your body moved on auto-pilot as your hands shot forward to catch it from falling to the dirt floor. Your brain knew, it fucking knew what would happen if you touched it, yet it still commanded it to move forward due to whatever fucking human nature you had left.

It's feathers grazed against the skin of your hands. Your body froze. It was warm. It was warm to touch even in the cold weather cooling the both of you down.

"Good catch," you heard distantly. You felt like you were submerged in a pool of ice water - you struggled to hear whatever was around you. Your eyes were frozen in place. Your body didn't listen to you. "Here, I found a first aid kit in the back."

You didn't process his words. You only watched the lively bird stumble on it's footing as you caught it. It blinked at you with something you'd call indignant anger. It would be right to be angry at you in a moment.

"You can put it down now," Zombieman said, clicking open the clasps on the box and pulled out some bandages. "We need to support it's wing with something strong." He carried on, unravelling the white gauze.

When he saw that you didn't listen to him, he reclarified for you. Maybe you didn't know what to get. "A straight strong stick should do. Go find one."

You still didn't move, and he finally looked up. He stared at you questioningly, not quite understanding the guilt ridden expression on your face until he looked down at your hands.

The black feathered bird was flopped over on your hands, it's eyes closed. It slumped over on it's wings and feet in a strange way. It's beak was open wide, trying to get something out that was never really there.

"...I think..." You say, your head turned over to face him, but he didn't really think you were looking at him. "I think your investigation is over."

...The crow was getting colder.

-----

"...I'm kinda like you." You started, sitting down in the car with dirt in stuck in your fingernails. You insisted on burying the crow before you explained everything. It was a request he easily granted - you had dug into the soft soil with your bare hands and covered the corpse with the same hands that killed it. "I'm... also like this because of human experimentation."

"...Go on." He said, nodding along.

"The lab, I'm sure you already know this, but they wanted to create antidotes. Something that would cure any poison. They obviously experimented on animals, but in the final stages, they wanted to test on a human subject. It was almost to fruition I think. And... My parents brought me in. I grew up in the lab." You sighed. "I wonder if they're even my real parents... What if..." You trailed off, the suspicions had clearly been weighing in your head for a long time. "...Never mind. That doesn't matter anymore. Anyways, one of the vials they gave me apparently wasn't the correct one. I started absorbing the poison in my body, almost like a storage box. No one realised at first."

"...Something happened, huh?" He said, picking up on your choice of words.

"...Yeah, they gave me some particularly strong poison or something to test out how my body would respond to the antidote they prepared. They didn't anticipate that I'd be able to absorb it alongside with the antidote." You let out something of a dry laugh. "That... was the last time I ever touched my mother. They cleared me to leave and I went up to her to say hi. She... collapsed on the ground, convulsing seconds later. After that, no one approached me without hazmat suits again. They quickly stopped working, after something else happened and they fled. My father was the last to go."

"...And that's when he gave you the instruction to stay until the level of toxins were acceptable?" He asked for confirmation. To which you nodded at him.

...Seeing everything fall into place has never felt so unsatisfying to him before.

He gave you a measured nod, his eyes never leaving the sight of your hunched over figure. "...So he sends you money to keep you somewhat alive?"

"...I don't know if he knows if I'm still alive." You shook your head. "Hell, I don't know if he's still alive himself. It's been... years. I only have the bank transactions from him as m only form as contact. I... still don't know if I killed my mother or if she's recovering somewhere."

He let out a quiet curse under his breath, leaning his arm against the window as you continued speaking.

They lived like this for years. Years.

"...I know what that place is, Zombieman." You say, your nails pressing tight against your skin, digging in. "I didn't want to admit it."

"...A prison?" He tried guessing when you didn't speak for a while, only to be met with a humourless laugh.

"Coffin. It's a coffin for me. I was born into a live burial - I'll live and die there." You say, your voice completely monotone. It was like a reporter going about the facts of the day. "The furthest place I've been from here. This... forest. And just by going once, I ruined the place. I can't just... leave. This was already a mistake."

He listened to you, watching the way you clutched yourself for some sort of support. He stayed quiet, examining your features carefully. Nothing on his corkboard prepared him for this - but perhaps his own personal experience of being on the other side could help.

He slowly forms the thoughts in his head - there wasn't much he could remember when he first left the lab he had escaped from, but he tried his best to gather what he could. What would have comforted him best? Well, probably the death of Dr Genus.

It was just a tad too slow - you had began speaking again.

"...When are you going to end me?"

He turned his head over to you, too quickly. "What?"

"You found the source of the poison." You say, leaning over to him from your seat. His breath hitched as you got closer. "You've known for a while, haven't you? So when are you going to do it? In my sleep? With a gun? Or an axe?"

It probably doesn't help, but at the mention of his weapons his eyes find their way over to their positions. "...I'm not going to murder you." He says, but didn't get up. He let you look down at him from where you were - it was probably the little bit of power you still had over him in your eyes. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"I made that crow die." You state, your retort coming back far too fast. "You saw me. One touch from me killed it. It was barely even a few seconds."

"...That doesn't warrant the death penalty." He sighs. "Nothing you've done deserves punishment of any kind, it's not your fault. None of it."

You stared at him with an unreadable expression on your face, he struggled to place what you were feeling at the moment despite it being the most vital time for him to be able to. "...I have a question," you say, almost reluctant to interrupt him. "If there was something that could only cause harm, why keep it?"

He doesn't given himself much time to think of his answer, knowing that the longer he took the more insincere he would sound to you. "I know many people who's only speciality is violence." He starts out, leaning a little closer to you as you took a step back from him, giving him more space. "...We call them heroes. Or monsters, depending on their intentions."

"...Are you one of these people?" You ask, your words feeling heavier than he expected for such a short question.

"I'd say so." He responded, his voice flat as he continued speaking. "...But a lot of people suspect me as a monster too. "

"...You're more than that." You said, tilting your head at him with scornful befuddlement. You looked upset, but not at him.

"Aren't you the same?" He mirrored the simple question to you.

There's silence from you, until he hears a small sniffle and you bring up one hand to wipe at your eyes. He's frozen solid for a second until he reaches over to a box of tissues nearby and offered it to you.

"No..." You shook your head. "No thanks, my tears will just melt it... Tried it, trust me..."

"...Yeah, that's what tissues tend to do in liquid long enough." He cracked the dry joke, trying to lighten your mood and still offering the box to you, just slightly further away.

"...No, they're..." You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a shaky sigh as you forced yourself to bite back the tears. "My tears are corrosive. Highly corrosive."

"...Huh." He said, putting the box aside and stood up. "Would you like my coat instead?"

"...Why on Earth would I want that?" You say, the last of the tears running down your face as you stopped wiping it with your hands.

"...It's work clothes, I can get these replaced for basically free. It's cheaper than those tissues." He shrugged, trying to make another attempt to cheer you up seeing that you had stopped at this point. They were more stressed tears than anything, so your crying wouldn't have lasted long anyways.

You blinked at him before letting out a laugh, "no, no... It's okay... I don't want to accidentally hurt you. I'm fine now anyways."

"Mhm." He nodded, watching you sit back down on your seat. "...You know, I have a really, really smart colleague. He might be able to help you leave if you want."

"...Really?"

"He's the smartest person I know. And I've been kicking around for a while." He states a chuckle on his lips as he spoke. The only other person he could think of being close to Child Emperor was Dr Genus. There wasn't a chance in hell he'd let him anywhere near you.

"...Do you think he'd be willing to help?" You ask, the lilt of your voice going up a little higher, a sense of hopefulness leaking into your tone. "Or wait, would he be safe? I don't want to hurt him by accident..."

He nodded at your concerns as you spoke. "I've seen him analyse venomous monsters during the heat of battle and create antibodies on the fly. I think there's a strong chance."

"...Wow, he sounds really smart. Is he a hero like you?"

"Yes," he nodded, something you'd describe as pride adorned his features. "He's more of a hero than me, though. I could learn a lot from him."

"...I think you're far more of one than you think you are."

He's silent, staring back into your eyes. It takes the both of you a moment before either speaks. His voice breaks the silence gently, his words slow and purposeful as he spoke.

"...I think we should get going soon. We need to catch that train."

#zombieman #zombieman x reader #one punch man #opm x reader #OtterlyFoolishWritings #someone who can't die + someone that kills everyone they touch = love story #or at least a potentially funny dynamic imo #tbh i feel like I could write a (short) multi-chapter fic off this idea but I Probably Won't because I have issues with Time Management #other running thoughts are that I wanted to write more about MC's past #I feel like they could be very fun to write and then delve into with ZM as he gets to work sniffing shit out #But I wanted to keep the “”vibe“” of mystery even if you knew all the plot twists from the summary before hand #x reader

18 notes · View notes

nightfall-1409 · 1 year

Text

Squad 30's Cloneshipping Big Bang SP

A take on an alternate Bad Batch era galaxy, myself @nightfall-1409 writing with the amazing @marbled-polecat making art for me, and an a godsend as a beta (I am soso sorry for the period overload). I can’t wait for y’all to see it!!!

@cloneshippingbigbang

and i couldn’t recognize myself in the mirror

Author: Nightfall_1409 @nightfall-1409

Artist: Marbled Polecat @marbled-polecat

rating: M word count: 24k pairings: Fives/Echo, Polybatch, Fives/Tup tags: hurt/comfort, mistaken identity, canon divergence, Fives Lives, Tup Lives, canon-typical violence, falling in love (again), internalized ableism, bad batch season 2 spoilers, order 66 happened differently

summary: As the end of the Clone Wars spirals into what feels like the end of the galaxy, Fives grapples with what he knew and when he learned it. Captain Rex reaches out to his Commando rescuers with a mission: extract the AWOL Commander Cody from Coruscant. After a messy reunion with his former Captain, Fives is forced to work alongside some of the most notorious members of the GAR: the Bad Batch. Though tensions are no doubt running high all around, there is one strange shred of light where things are easier and more familiar than they have any right to be- with Clone Force 99's cyborg ARC Trooper, Echo.

snippet:

“Fives?” Echo prompts, rumbling low, definitely in a teasing sort of tone as he draws Fives from his thoughts, and Fives’ heart flutters, even overtaking the old rush of familiar grief, freezing him on the spot.

There’s something in Echo’s eyes, a little fiery, determined, as one side of his lips quirk up, and Fives realizes how close their hands are in that moment, realizes how close they both are, eyes glowing as though lit from within, and that moment is an Echo, of them both as younger men, braver men, Echo suddenly shaped into his Echo the brave and amazing ARC trooper, strategic and amazing and the other half of Fives’ heart and, come back from where he’d run to his death.

Fives almost thinks for a second that Echo’s going to be bold, reach out, put one hand over his own in an echo of a time long past. That this Echo is going to do what his Echo would have, taking his hand and taking him to bed, bright and happy and sure, and full of love and light and—

Echo goes to open his mouth, to speak—

“Echo?” Omega’s voice, small, sleepy, breaks the moment. “Tech’s wondering if you were okay.”

“You’re supposed to be asleep, Megs,” Echo softens, pulling up and out of Fives’ space, making a quick beeline to Omega, the little girl holding a black, red and white tooka doll, of all things, rubbing sleepy eyes. “If Tech wanted to check on me, he could have.”

The silence after the question is telling, and Echo sighs, overly fond, kneeling in front of the girl. “Let’s get to bed then, yeah? Before Hunter’s angry at both of us.” And with tenderness that Fives aches to feel, Echo picks up Omega into his arms, his metal hand against her back, his other hand holding her secure. He takes a moment once he has her set, to glance back at Fives.

There’s something perhaps a little wistful in his expression, unspoken words trapped behind his lips, and the dream ends, the reality set in that this is their Echo, and not his riduur returned from beyond the grave.

And it’s not fair to love someone in the hole that someone else has left, but, but— is it fair to have that hole and see someone that feels like he’s that missing piece, so close and yet so far?

“See you tomorrow, Fives.” He says, quiet, turning and leaving the room, Omega curled up into his shoulder, holding him in a hug, a ghost of him and his Echo curled up in the stormy nights of Kamino.

It’s only after he’s left the room that Fives can stutter out a little, sheepish, goodbye.

#Echo/fives #the bad batch #cloneshipping #polybatch #fanfiction #clone shipping big bang

40 notes · View notes

blacksurvivalnostalgichanges · 6 months

Text

Black Survival characters as mythological/supernatural creatures

Adela:vampire adela is convincing but you know she could be fae with that sort of “you have already lost” thing she has

Adriana:i want to say fire elemental, but that’s too obvious. it’d be poetic if she were instead something that’s constantly cold like an ice elemental or something

Aiden:he is canonically pretty much a supernatural creature. all i can do is nudge towards son of zeus or suggest he’s that one thing i saw somewhere of a being that turns into electricity and travels in power cords (this parenthesis is of me sending this out. what the fuck is this last bit. i have zero clue)

Alex:i think all secret agents would be shapeshifters or changelings. he does have a lot of This Man Is Unfindable vibes, so he’d probably be a shapeshifter

Arda:so tempted to say he’s the human in the story. but ok i’ll name something. i think he has elf-y vibes. at least immortal. like, he’s the type to have lived through a lot of things to me

Aya:maybe it’s because i think she’s kinda similar to kujou sara genshin impact, but i’m thinking tengu

Barbara:human with tons of metal prosthesis (this is me from the future/present. boy that’s a cyborg. pretty sure i described a cyborg)

Bernice:werewolf. hunter of the night, sad about hurting people, that’s werewolf baby

Camilo:either a siren or a sexy vampire

Cathy:necromancer. god i picture someone being like “h... he’s dead.....” and she cracks her knucles like “i didn’t get my medical license revoked for nothing”

Celine:mage or witch vibes to me. all her spells are fireball

Chiara:the nun enemy in horror games. whether she’d be a ghost, or a demon, or a whatever-the-hell is ambiguous, but that’s what i’m seeing. maybe a fallen angel too. good omens au with emma, see my vision

Chloe:witch. like, wears-a-hat, potion-making, cat-having witch is what i’m picturing except instead of a cat she has a small child

Daniel:i’ve compared him to alucard and dracula and vampires too many times for me to say anything but vampire

Echion:hes kind of a cyborg right. i don’t need to try

Eleven:whatever flutterina from she-ra had going on (me from the present/future again. that’s a forest elf. she-ra has a wiki page)

Eva:yeah this one’s obvious. just. magical girl. there ain’t much to work with

Emma:magical girl skin is compelling but. again. good omens au

Fiora:so much medieval knight slayer of dragon vibes coming out of her

Hart:i got nothing. muse? elf? she’s too Normal Person to read

Hyejin:if she were chinese she’d slay in a danmei so hard. she’d cultivate so hard. so when it comes to korea it’s something akin, i guess. don’t know if i want to deep-dive into korean culture for this

Hyunwoo:i never watched teen wolf but he’d be a werewolf in there. source:dude trust me. but with all his stuff going on i wouldn’t be surprised if he was cursed

Isol:ehehe werewolf isol

Jackie:there’s this one episode of grimm where they reveal jack the ripper is a ghost/demon that just comes back every 100 years and possesses someone to go to murders. i think that’s what she’d be

Jan:too much of a normal human being for me to read as well. he’s maybe the character with the least skins too so no clue. not even a halloween costume, i feel like he’d just wear one of those skeleton full-body costumes and call it a day

Jenny:i think it’d be neat if she were a ghost possessing a theater, or something akin to walpurgisnacht from puella magi madoka magica. but she also has elf vibes since she’s full of herself and pretty and stuff

Johann:cleric. what do you want from me

JP: he’s got to be some sort of trickster spirit. if he’s chinese then there’s definitely a few to pick from there

Laura: her whole character is a sort of fetish so if you append “sexy” to it she could be anything

Lenox:dryad. why? she’s afraid of fire. checkmate

Leon:merman

Li Dailin:she’s so regretful and bitter and self destructive. that’s a wraith baby

Luke:he seems like the sort of shapeshifter to turn into a horse to be inconspicuous

Magnus:dude in greek stories who learns not to dare the gods

Mai:that one pokemon that makes fabric. but well. elf. sure. all skinny vaguely pretty people could be elves

Nadine:werwolf is too obvious. but it’s obvious because it fits too perfectly

Nathapon:my guy is beatrice portinari from ordem paranormal, he can’t remember the rituals they did on him

Nicky:is it cruel of me to name dwarf because she’s short. do i get a short joke pass. if i can laugh at my friend when he says the wind

Rio:elf, i think. archery, general appearance. i think it’d be cute if she wore the Elf Outfit Thing but it included a hood with cat ears. something to consider

Rosalio:soul eater weapon thing but he’s a baseball bat with nails that nobody wants to meister

Rozzi:brazilian legend of the iara is what i’m going with, because honestly there’s enough aspects that work well imo. the summary is that it’s a siren but with ~lore~

Shoichi:man i got nothin. his vampire skin is cool and there’s some symbolism there that works since vampires are either rich aristocrats, gay, or both (me from the future again. he’s also ashamed of himself and wouldn’t want to show his body to his child. that is so vampiristic!!!)

Silvia:whatever quicksilver from the avengers had going on for sure

Sissela:Ghost. It makes too much sense, but I briefly considered jiangshi ig

Sua:i think it’d be cool if she was a library ghost. maybe a dryad that lives on as a book idk, but i think it’d be cool if people entered a library and tried to find a book and this sweet disembodied voice goes “it’s on the top shelf”

Tia:she’s already fuckin marina from monica’s gang, what can i say on this one

William:soul eater weapon thing but he’s a boomerang that also no one wants to meister because william is a strange oddly bitter man

Xiukai:ok i need you guys to stay with me through this one, i’m going somewhere. there’s this one urban legend show that ran years and years ago in brazil, and this one episode is about this big boy house that these girls are staying in for a vacay that one of their boyfriends let them stay in. they dirty the floor and stuff because people be like that, and then they start disappearing. that aforementioned boyfriend explains he lived in this house as a kid, and he was a shitheel as a kid who deliberately made a mess for his maid to clean up, but one day she tripped and died. now her ghost (who isn’t sure she’s dead and just cleans up the house as usual) turns people into framed photos. WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT STORY IS, is what i think xiukai would be

Yuki:that one ghost hunter skin is too good for me to be able to imagine him as anything else. i am sorry. i’d love to be like “ah he’d do a good kitsune” or whatever but my mind drifts instantly to him cutting a ghost with a katana

Zahir:i’m like 60% sure he’s already based on a hindu legend so can’t talk too much on that tbh. can’t say for sure since i know very little on that subject but i’m pretty sure they’re basing his backstory off of something

#banging the rest out so this post can leave that draft hell #black survival #black survival game #immortal soul black survival #eternal return black survival

7 notes · View notes

goth-automaton · 4 months

Note

crashes through ceiling excuse me i'm late Lemme bring up one of Twitter Exclusive OCs, what about 5, 12, 19 from the 'GET TO KNOW THE OC ASKS' and 4 and 14 from 'some OC questions…' for… ✨Svetlana✨!

Haha, I knew you'll choose a "Metal Gear Chaos: RE//connection" character, just wasn't sure, if Emma or Svetlana. ^^ I'll be happy to answer questions about Emma too, of course! 💜

But yes, Svetlana Ivanovna Raikova, our dearest Yakutian ball of unresolved traumas (whom I still haven't properly introduced even on Twitter, 'cause I'm a baby and scared of drawing cyborgs, lol). 💜

GET TO KNOW THE OC ASKS

5. Does your OC have a signature weapon and/or attack? How long did they train to master it?

I wouldn't call it "signature", but Svetlana's usual weapons are sniper riffles and army combat knives. She's also good in fistfights – being a ridiculously strong cyborg definitely helps with it.

She started learning to fight shortly after her initial cyborgisation, at the age of 18, and is still fighting while pushing 60 (and later), so, yeah, she had decades to master fighting.

12. Is your OC cynical or optimistic? Who or what shaped their outlook on life?

Hooooo boiiiiiiiii. Svetlana is cynical as hell. Or at least has been for most of her life – being raised by a mother, who was nearly catatonic due to severe trauma and depression, and later watching said mother slowly die from lung infection, when you're only 5, will do that to you. For almost her whole life Svetlana was obsessed with getting revenge on Big Boss, whom she blames (rightfully, btw) for death of her mother. And then she was made aware, that this revenge actually made no fucking sense. And had a little mental breakdown/existential crisis because of it. Poor girl, her whole world shattered.

HOWEVER. After Emma talked her into joining Philanthropy, Svetlana actually chilled out a little and, while she still is more on the cynical side, her world view definitely isn't as negative, as it used to be. She even made friends! She! Hard to believe, isn't it???

19. Has your OC ever had an experience with the paranormal or the divine? What happened? Was it a one time encounter or is it a normal part of their life? Did they find it terrifying or thrilling?

Okay, so this question is... Hard. To me, as an author. Because MGC doesn't have, like, fully set storyline, I'm stil not sure about paranormal things in it... I mean, ghosts and stuff definitely exist in this universe, but... Gaaah, that would require a shitload of explanation!

But... Uuuh... Does meeting a guy, whose soul and consciousness have been forcefully dragged out of the afterlife and implanted into a body of a lobotomized person, count as paranormal? ^^"

some original character (OC) questions

4. What are your character's quirks or eccentricities that make them stand out from others?

She's a technically immortal Russian cyborg born in 1971, who stopped ageing in her thirties, so. XD But more serious: she doesn't show much emotions, partially because of being kinda tired after all these years and partially, 'cause her she has an emotional maturity of a child – again, trauma will do that to you. And, due to being rather avoidant of people for most of her life, Svetlana still sometimes feels a bit out of place, when it comes to interpersonal relationships. But she's getting better!

Also, she's extremely sentimental and often pays homage to her family. She has a whole box of mementos after her mother and (adopted) grandma and has painted traditional Russian ornamental patterns on her battle armour to honour the latter – granny Anna lived from handcraft, she was making matryoshkas, and she taught young Svetlana how to paint them.

14. What is your character's preferred method of self-expression? Do they have any artistic talents or creative outlets?

Lol, I've accidentally already answered that above. XD But yeah, Svetlana is really skilled in painting traditional Russian patterns. ^^

Thank you! 💜

#it's Rem!#ask game #mail time!

4 notes · View notes

theinternetisaweboflies · 1 year

Photo

Kaiju Flicks and Shrimp Chips by girlinstory

Saitama was expecting Godzilla.

He was expecting fuzzy science, epic kaiju, and a lot of municipal damage. He was expecting shrimp chips and Pocky. He was expecting a lighthearted movie night with his roommate.

He was not expecting Genos to cry his refuse-ducts dry on Saitama's seventh favorite hoodie.

Saitama sighed and started rummaging around in the pocket of his cargo shorts.

The kid sure cried a lot, but if anyone deserved to cry, it was probably Genos, so Saitama just started carrying hand towels instead of handkerchiefs. Today's towel was Doraemon.

He passed it to Genos, who started mopping up the oil that was streaming down his faceplates.

It looked a little like Genos was one of those girls in the TV Doramas Saitama surfed past sometimes, whose mascara had started to run because they were crying over their ex-girlfriend's twin's cousin's ghost or something. It looked a little pretty.

Saitama shook his head, as if it was an Etch A-Sketch and he could physically remove that thought.

"Is it 'cause they made Mechagodzilla a cyborg?" he asked.

Saitama had been surprised by that particular plot point as well. Mechagodzilla had been around since the Showa Era. When he was introduced in the 1974 film Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla, it was as a robotic superweapon created by simian aliens to aid in their conquest of planet earth.

The newer stuff was… different. For one thing, Mechagodzilla had been given a name. Kiryu, short for Kikai Ryu or metal dragon. He was created by the Japanese military, using the skeletal remains of the first Godzilla, all that was left behind after the Oxygen Destroyer's detonation in 1954.

There was a scene where Kiryu had a freaking flashback to his own death.

Genos had stiffened beside him, and the kid was usually pretty stiff in the first place.

He hadn't spoken though, so Saitama didn't mention it either. Genos didn't speak- or start crying (probably)- until the credits rolled on Tokyo SOS.

Saitama had been planning to save the second movie for another night, or forget it altogether, since it was probably bringing up some bad memories, but Genos had immediately switched it in and hit play.

Saitama thought about saying something then, but still, Genos was silent. Like, unusually silent. Maybe that meant he didn't want to talk. Saitama could understand that. Some things were better processed with kaiju flicks and shrimp chips.

Apparently not this though.

Genos nodded minutely into Doraemon.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Mechagodzilla was not a functional weapon," Genos hiccupped.

"I underst- Wait." Saitama cleaned out his ear with a pinky. "What?"

"Mechagodzilla was not a functional weapon."

So he had heard him right. "That's… what's bothering you?"

"He malfunctioned because he was too traumatized. He kept having flashbacks and either going on a rampage or committing suicide."

Saitama tried to ignore the squirm in his intestines at that last word. He'd wondered sometimes about how Genos could talk near constantly without once mentioning his future after killing the Mad Cyborg.

"Genos, what are y-"

"It reminded me of something Metal Knight told me once," said Genos, in a rare interruption.

"The other cyborg?" Saitama had been trying to remember the names of all the S Class heroes because apparently the short one didn't like to be called that.

Genos was the only one he got right with any regularity.

"No, sensei, Metal Drive is the other cyborg. Metal Knight is Dr. Bofoi, who provides a significant amount of the Hero Association's weaponry in addition to his S Class duties."

"Oh, the one with all the body armor?"

"Correct, sensei," said Genos.

"Well, what'd he say?"

"That cyborgs are an inherently flawed idea, because anyone damaged enough to require substantial body modification is too damaged to be trusted with it."

After the minute or two it took him to figure out what that meant, Saitama immediately developed a very strong urge to give Dr. Bofoi at least a semi-serious punch.

He also felt himself flush with anger, which would usually bother him, because it always made people look at the top of his head, but Genos was too busy crying again.

"Yeah, well you're not damaged enough to say something like that," said Saitama. "I bet Dr. Bofoi wasn't hugged enough as a child. That explains all the armor. Intimacy issues."

Genos gave an oily laugh.

"Or maybe it's just because he looks like if Colonel Sanders was actually in the military."

That earned him a snort. Saitama vaguely wondered if Genos had boogers, and if they were made of oil too, but he wasn't damaged enough to ask.

"Forget Dr. Buffoon," Saitama said, casually switching over to an old magical girl anime he'd caught Genos glancing up from his notebooks to watch on more than one occasion.

Genos had enough nightmares as it was for Saitama to suggest rolling out their futons despite the late hour.

"Like he has room to talk," he went on, opening another box of Pocky. "You're a way better hero than he is. You'll outclass him in no time if the HA has any idea what they're doing."

Genos was steaming slightly. "Th- That is not true, sensei! It is you, who will- I'm not even-"

It was Saitama's turn to snort. "It's pretty hypocritical of you to be this bad at taking a compliment, Genos."

Genos steamed even harder, but at least he wasn't leaking anymore.

#one punch man #opm #opm fanfic #saigenos #saigenos fanfic #one punch man fanfiction #godzilla #mechagodzilla

15 notes · View notes

grammarpedant · 1 year

Note

Hello!! Feel absolutely free to ignore/delete if this isn't your thing but: I'm working on a Murderbot playlist, one of my silly arbitrary rules is only one song per artist, and as a person with great Analysis and Opinions I am humbly asking you to break a tie. The songs in question are "Ghosts in the Code" and "Disconnected" by Aviators.

Ghosts in the Code is for the general growth and character development with bonus cool computery lyrics while Disconnected is all about Exit Strategy and MENSAH. I picture one of the verses as coming from her (but won't say which one, that's up to you ;))

Hi anon! Apologies for taking so long to get back to your lovely ask <3 Music is not really my strong point, but I'm flattered that you thought my opinion worth soliciting. Unsure if you haven't already made your decision by now, but I've already listened to your picks and it's lowkey been on my mind this past month and a half, so I wanted to give your question a whirl! XD

First off, I've gotta congratulate you on having great taste. Aviators is a fave- atmospheric acoustic vibe, nice vocals, their songs are often rich with story and especially sf/f themes which makes them great picks for character playlists, and honestly I have just never met an Aviators song I didn't like. And among their many excellent songs you've picked a couple that fit great for Murderbot and its Diaries.

Let's dive right in!

youtube

Ghosts in the Code has a very driven action-adventure vibe to it- strong underlying beat, a synth-y sound to the guitars (bear with me, I told you I'm not a music guy), I could almost imagine it as the ending theme to an 80's cyberpunk anime, with shots of cool fight scenes intercut with the protag walking pensively through an empty neon city at night as the credits scroll by.

Am I a man or an automaton? Am I so wrong To think that There's something beneath my exterior? Superior thoughts that rule me I'm not a fool, am I? Can someone tell me why I feel like I'm never in control? I'm gonna find the source Locate a deeper force Under my very soul

The entire first stanza is classically Cyborg Angst, asking questions about humanity, self-determination, and what it means to be a machine, but in a way that feels specifically Murderbot. Maybe I'm alive in a whole new way, the following lyrics suggest- there's something quietly, moodily defiant about the way the questions are framed and answers suggested that feels reminiscent of Murderbot's narrative voice and the themes of its character arc alike; it's a song about just trying to survive and find yourself in a hostile world.

The fuel and the fire In a newfound desire They're moving me higher And the wires are changing their road The gears are turning on and on The fears I held within are gone The song that plays in metal parts Beats now to a different heart Yeah, the wires are changing their road Still haunted by ghosts in the code Maybe I'm alive In a whole new way I won't carry the burdens of yesterday There's something new inside Like I'm a different man Ghosts in the code of who I am

The song remains melancholy about the struggle of self-hood; it never settles on what exactly it is, yet it's ultimately triumphant about declaring its intention to self-determine. It's a great song for Murderbot and its own journey across the series! With bonus points for a connection between the phrase "Ghosts in the Code" and Murderbot 2.0's little moment of claiming self-identity:

TargetContact said, A software ghost. I liked that. I had watched media with ghosts, though I didn’t have access to the files or titles anymore. I said, A ghost that kills you.

youtube

Meanwhile, Disconnected is a much more melancholy, pensive song, a duet that feels like it would be perfect for an angsty AMV if the live action adaptation ever came out, lots of shots taken from the emotional Murderbot and Mensah scenes superimposed against each other, maybe with a rain filter. But as much as the song is about a fraught relationship, the themes of the lyrics are almost as much about how the people in the song stand against the challenges of an unkind world as it is about how they relate to each other.

I feel like this world should break me But nothing changes after all I'll never be perfect But neither will you

I've been listening to this song on repeat all while writing this (I did that for each song as I analyzed them) and I'm fascinated by how the singers' voices intertwine; they're both singing for the duration of the song (i think) and for the chorus their voices are balanced, but for some verses one voice comes forward clearly, and makes that line "theirs." So if we choose to interpret the lead singer's voice as Murderbot's and the featured artist's as Mensah, that would theoretically complicate the fit of the song- and yet somehow, anon, you've picked a song that still captures the vibes of everything difficult in their relationship: the parts of the bond forged by trauma, the codependency, Murderbot walking away from the whole "owner" thing, the paternalism that Mensah needed to unlearn, Murderbot genuinely benefiting from her having encouraged it to reach out from its depressed shell, the ways they've been there for each other. "I know how to be afraid"- the chorus is sung with both voices equally strong, and god if this line from it doesn't speak to the way they understand each others' fear and trauma post Exit Strategy. Meanwhile, the first and last non-chorus verses resonate with Murderbot's depressed beginning in ASR and its decision to walk away at the end, respectively; meanwhile, this part is indisputably Mensah's:

Just for example Say you forget me To start over apart And rebuild something new It sounds familiar Endings begin again Each mistake I'm learning A lesson from you

Quality Mensah angst right there. It's the kind of thing that I've written thousands of words of fic for. "I know I fucked up," Mensah thinks to herself in the lonely nights after MB pisses off. "I could have done better," she thinks while fending off reporters looking to turn tragedy into a scoop. And, worrying with her friends and coworkers, "I hope you're okay, wherever you are."

I like, too, that this section is then followed by a back-and-forth with the main singer. In the context of selecting it for a character playlist, it really helps to drive home the idea that this is still about Murderbot, and its relationship to Mensah. (And I'm deeply curious to know if this is also the verse that you were thinking of as coming from her!)

Also, I just think it's great that the title of this song works as an homage to @indigo's Mensah POV longfic, Extended Disconnection, an absolute titan of talent and wordcount that comes highly recommended if you haven't read it already.

So which song should you pick? They both have a lot to recommend them. I think personally, if we take the songs in isolation, I like Ghosts in the Code as a Murderbot song better- it encompasses so much of its character arc and themes, with only the minor downside of using gendered terms for the song's pov a couple times. On the other hand, Mensah's impact on Murderbot is an important part of Murderbot's story, and deserves its own shoutout. My one big reservation with that song, then, is that I don't particularly like the guest artist's voice as a cast for Mensah- it's too young and girlish, and in combination with the lead singer's comparatively more masc voice gives me the persistent mental image of Brown-Haired White Male Everyman And Petite Blonde Love Interest, which is the absolute wrong vibe for Murderbot and Mensah, the agender cyborg and older brown woman whose platonic relationship defies easy categorization. I would thus personally lean toward Ghosts in the Code, but hey! I don't know what's on the rest of your Murderbot playlist. Maybe there's a lack of Mensah feels, and plenty of other songs that encompass MB's "general growth and character feels," or maybe Disconnected flows better with the other songs on the playlist.

Ultimately, both of these are great additions to a Murderbot themed playlist, and I think you couldn't go wrong with either. If you see this and ever want to drop a follow-up ask, I'd be fascinated to hear which one you went with, or if you ended up doing something else!

#verso answers #murderbot diaries #murderbot #music #ayda mensah #meta #honestly I would've been happy to keep your nice ask in my dungeon of unanswered asks indefinitely anon.#it's such a nice missive and i'm an evil wizard! so obviously I have to hang onto it for eternity. HOWEVER #i also love monologuing and you've given me such a wonderful opportunity to ramble at length about murderbot and these good songs #and so for that i thank you and release your ask unto the world <3 #hope you enjoyed just how many words I ended up writing about this wonderful music!

11 notes · View notes

lovelessdagger · 2 years

Text

Starlight - Chapter Thirty: A Requiem for Dawn

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Smut

Warnings: Explicit Language. Angst. Passive Suicidal Ideation. Drama. Violence.

Words: 8.3k

Summary : “This is a story told time and time again. It will be no different than the last. Nothing has changed.

It begins in peacetime, as it always does.

It is still the early morning.”

A/N: I’m sorry but it must be done.

Starlight Masterlist Here

Read Chapter Twenty-Nine Here

Read on AO3 Here

This is a story told time and time again. It will be no different than the last. Nothing has changed.

It begins in peacetime, as it always does.

It is still the early morning.

One may find it within themself to believe there is no early and no morning at all. That an early morning can only exist in the defeat of darkness, a fact without case in this particular scenario. Here, there is only night, only dark.

For so long there has only ever been dark.

Not even the light of stars shine.

It is the will of the Force.

---

Arkanis, 3BBY

“It’s a shame they didn’t kill you.”

Though not the most expected line to come from the mouth of a presumed fourteen year old, it is the first to exit her: A dull eyed blonde girl with skin so pale she might as well be translucent. For this reason they call her Ghost.

Her company isn’t of strong conversation. Another girl in her age, sat on the concret floor. Dark hair swoops when it gets past regulation length and eyes match steel. She holds broken metal, filing sketches into the rock. They look like stars. Leather gloves swallow her hands with room to spare. She snorts, and a rat in the corner scurries out of its hole. It’s a pitiful little thing, escaped from the labs they all know of but aren’t allowed to see. Balding and deformed.

Ghost doesn’t know if she would consider the other her friend per say. She’s too emotionally stunted to fully understand the concepts of friendship, but for the whole of their forgettable lives they’ve been inseparable. So they must be something. A yin yang coupling of sorts. Total opposites with shared minds.

With no response given, Ghost frowns. “What’s happened? You’re acting different, I thought you’d be pleased to have returned.”

The girl sighs. “It’s Lord Vader,“ she mumbles.

The treacherous cyborg is a rare sight to bare witness to in their youthful level. Personally, she can recollect only four instances in his visitation. His name alone is a great taboo, rarely to be spoken. He is a presence in who thought alone is the cause of shiver and paranoia. Though, looking at her companion, she looks almost passive. Like he were just another.

“Vader?” Ghosts asks, whispered. “Has he seen you while away?”

“He’s here,” she says. “I fear something will happen to me today.”

“Have you had a vision?”

“Something like that.”

“Of what?”

“Being taken.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. But I think it will happen again.”

“Then I’ll find you,” Ghost settles.

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not. I’ve decided it on my own. We’re meant to lead together, that was always the plan.”

“Yes I know—“

“Then it will be. I’ll make sure of it, I swear.”

“If they don’t kill me.”

“They won’t.”

“How are you sure?”

Ghost shrugs. “They haven’t yet. Why rush now?”

The girl sighs, followed by a heavy nod. “You’ll have to focus on gaining favor in the ranks without me. It may take time, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I’ll try to stay alive in the meantime. After a while, if possible, we’ll find each other again.”

“It will be possible. We’re like sisters, I’d know you anywhere.”

“But are you capable of it?”

Ghost scoffs. “Of course I am. Are you?”

---

Elysium Hortus, 10ABY

Sleep took the Mandalorian gently after the departure of Lumina and abandoned him just as quick. He laid motionless in bed for an hour awaiting her return. He wanted nothing more than for her body to join his, naked and warm. To feed his addiction to her touch, that which mimics poison in his blood.

Without her reappearance he struggled to wake. Dressing himself in the familiar shell of beskar, he debates—for no longer than a moment—forgoing the helmet completely. This is a decision he ultimately acts against.

He is a great many deal of things and simultaneously, the horrific absence of them all.

He walks outside, a growing familiar trail over the hills. The air is humid, stuffiness filling his helmet.

Were she here, would the sounds of the people be audible? In the silence, the chirp of an insect is amplified to unspeakable volumes, should the toll of a bell act the same?

The sky will be without a glimpse of sun for its entirety, he thinks she’ll enjoy it very much.

Din discovers his placement outside of the Slave I, knocking at the doors with a steady hand.

“I want to propose,” he says to Fennec’s question of worry. He hadn’t prepared, maybe his palms wouldn’t sweat so much if he did.

She leans against the entryway, arms crossed over her chest she carries a fluttering air of amusement. “I’m touched, but unfortunately you aren’t my type.”

“I want to marry her, Fennec.”

“You’re serious?”

He nods. “I am.”

She looks inside, then back. “If you’ve come for a blessing—“

“I haven’t.”

“That’s bold.”

“Will I need one?”

She shrugs. “I’m sure he’d expect it. She’s like his daughter.”

He frowns, and shakes his head to rid of it. ”I don’t know how to go about it, proposing. I hoped you would help.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Weren’t you married?”

Her glare comes quick, turning to incredulous scoff. “Engaged. I never made it that far and if I had it wouldn’t have been my choice.”

“You still know how it’s done.”

“Why are you asking me? Isn’t there some tradition you people follow?”

“There is, but it only applies between Mandalorians.”

Fennec chews at her cheek, the only time Din has ever seen her with anxiety. Neither of them say more on this.

“Why do you want to marry her?” She asks. “What is it about her that you’re not satisfied with how you are?”

“Satisfied?” He repeats to gain time on an answer.

“Has she committed herself to you?”

He nods. “She has.”

“And have you committed yourself to her?”

“I have.”

“Then why bother with marriage?”

The question is more practical than of mockery. Why should two people who—to the best of Din’s knowledge—have no care for titles and formalities bother themselves with such? What difference exists with vows that cannot be achieved in practice?

A simple answer would be nothing, but until she becomes simple it will not suffice.

There is no way to explain it. Not in ways he is not too proud to admit.

He cannot speak of the agony he is filled with in her absence. They are born from each other for it is his own person he feels without when she is gone.

They are a mythos together and apart. His love to her is that of constellations, forming stories told by kings. She has squandered his arrogance and gardened his delight.

She has made him man.

He cannot imagine a day of living without her.

“Are you against it?” He asks instead.

“On the contrary, I say it’s good for you to be with someone like her.”

“And why is that?”

“Because she can kick your ass on a consistent basis."

The chuckle is involuntary. “Not that I would have an issue if she could, but she can’t.”

Fennec cocks her hip. “You’ve never fought her, have you?”

“I have, plenty of times. And I’ve won.”

“Every time?”

“Every time.”

“She’s letting you win.”

“No she isn’t.”

“Oh yes,” Fennec laughs. “She is. That girl doesn’t lose a fight, not unless it’s on purpose. She’ll kill herself before admitting defeat. Especially to someone like you.”

---

“You have to help her,” Boba says without greeting. He marches to the ship, carrying a rifle and a small sheet of metal. “She won’t listen to me, she isn’t safe.” He hands the pieces to Fennec, ushering her inside before recognition settles.

A chill runs over Din. “Lumina? Is she hurt?”

“Not physically, not yet.” The breath he takes is shaky, sounding like crackles through the helmet. “Mentally she’s… she’s slipping to places she can’t come out of. If she keeps on this path none of you will be safe.”

“What are you talking about? She’s getting better I’ve seen her. She can sleep now, she’s eating, she plays with the Child, she… It’s taking time but she is improving.”

“She’s gotten better at tricking you, yes. You’ve become more blind, maybe. But you must see how she behaves, how she speaks.”

“Lumina has her moments,” Din admits. “But if you could see how she was when we met. Even just a month ago—”

“She is exactly as I left her.”

“Fett. I know how much she means to you, but you have to trust me on this.”

“You don’t know her,” Boba snaps. “I know you think you do, and you’ve built this fantasy in your head of what she’s like but you’re wrong. You know nothing of her.”

“You were out of her life for five years, people change,” Din stresses. “She’s changed, or at least is changing. You practically raised her as your own. How can you call her dangerous?”

Boba’s exhale is sharp, head shaking. “She’s told me of your child, how he scares you.”

“That’s different. The kid comes from sorcerers, he can do things I’ve never seen and can’t explain. Lumina—“ He stops. And he thinks. “She’s not like him.”

“How?”

“She can’t use magic,” he says. “Her abilities they’re… I don’t know what it is, but she’s not like him. She can’t be like him, it’s not possible.”

“And why not?”

Din looks to the already black sky, darkening by the second. There’s a strange silhouette in the clouds that he can’t quite place. “My leader disapproves of Lumina, insulted her the whole meeting. Said she recognized her. Funny thing about that is: Lu says she’s never even been in the sector. What do you know about that?”

Boba shrugs. “Sounds to me like your leader has a poor memory.”

“She called her dar’manda, Fett. Soulless. You should know that isn’t thrown around lightly.”

He pauses. “Where were you stationed? Mandalore?”

“Concordia. And, not to make matters worse, but we met a man from Concord Dawn recently. He said she looked familiar too, he was happy to see her.”

Now Boba clears his throat, and says nothing.

“I used to think it didn’t matter,” Din goes on to say. “Lumina doesn’t know who she is, where she comes from. She’s not Mandalorian but she’s not not Mandalorian.” He kicks at the dirt, walking around. “She abides by the Creed without even knowing it. She always has.” He motions to Boba. “If she had a suit she’d fit right in.”

“What’s your point?”

“When Mandalorians are born, they’re said to never stray.” He pauses. “That is how I know Lumina is not of the Jedi kind. Because by birth, she is Mandalorian.” Boba’s head snaps to him, giving him no choice but to continue. Din looks over. “But you already knew that… didn’t you?”

---

Time is a difficult thing to catalog past this moment. The intensity is sped so sharp that if not for their devastating effects they may have not been recorded at all.

The sky explodes, electric red energy blasts into the woods. The echo of the impact is deafening, pitched rings pierce the brain.

Din shouts her name, held back by Boba from running in.

She’s fine, he says. She’s not in there.

Imperial shutters land all around the moon, one within spitting distance of the ship, just down the hill. Platoons of troopers rush out, scrambled intercoms shouting above another.

Fennec returns with her own gun, tossing Boba his staff. Their feet sprint into action without communication.

In an odd way, things click for Din one by one. It all starts with Fett, which really, he should have expected.

Boba takes down troopers like it were child’s play. He breaks whatever limb is available and stabs any opening he sees. He swings his staff, breaking bone and smashing helmets alike. He takes men by their necks and lifts them a foot into the air, only to slam their bodies back into the dirt, and kill them in whatever way he sees fit.

Din can only watch so much and still keep up with his own bombardment. One second Boba is within eye-line, he shoots from his pistol with one hand and fires from his suit with the other. The next he appears on the opposite side the grass arena, using nothing but the blaster on his shin.

When the second shuttle lands it’s thought of nothing more than a nuisance.

Boba throws grenades at the men. He takes them in chokeholds and shoots their guts without hesitation. He turns his arm over his shoulder and takes down three without a glance to spare.

He looks just like her.

---

Beyond this, flickering lanterns guide a path which follows with little urgency. and moonlight exposes a mountain range. It hides a village and gatherings for celebration.

Every hour beginning at four past new day, an iron bell with centuries of age rings. It hangs in the tallest tower with dirty red brick surrounding. They are the last reminders of the Republic, of a time before the wars to destroy humanity and any other sentient life. From its very inception to the fall of the Empire, it remained silent in perpetual mourning.

It now rings in hope.

The day is a day of celebration, the curtain call of halcyon before the awakening of spring.

The day is of blessing.

The old man resents this. The one whose name is known only by his peers, of which he alone is the last of. The one who stations himself atop a wooden box and screams of the end. Who looked to the foreign girl on his land and cursed temptation and fallen paradise.

The one without peace.

Should that man be without peace in this moment still? Despite impending victory of sunlight does he still wallow in despair?

With what truth lays his claim to Force prophecy? Is he content in his ways? In his conscious plight, is it truly a choice of madness or has he been awakened through a gods touch?

When the moon and the stars are covered by death, and the forest of their walls rain with hell, are they expected actions? When the homes of innocents are besieged with the enemies of the bell, does he find relief in his correction? As men in cheap armor have him lined shoulder by shoulder while others cloaked in black with red plasma beams bark orders… is there a sick pride that fills him?

Does contentment come when the nightmare that burdens him ends?

The answer to all is yes.

They yell about a girl, he assumes the girl, they kick in doors and throw out furniture. They set fire to it all.

When the war began, the second of his life, news spread of the destruction of a world closer to the core than any of the moon could imagine traveling to. There were stories, rumors in a sense.

Destruction built slowly on the terrain, and came all at once.

The trees, the mountains, the people.

Vanished into ash.

Today, on the day of no sun, the sky is the brightest he has ever seen.

There is forever a gap in the universe from that planet. At times, curiosity came about as to how the gap could have been created. No one knew for sure.

Now, lined shoulder by shoulder, he understands.

In his mind he will go on his own accord. With the end of his deliverance, the horror is no more. He warned without listener, and guided without follower, but it is done.

He is complete, and with the click of a blaster, he is nothing.

That is all.

---

Moff Gideon walks across the bridge of his Star Cruiser. Peering out the glass, he looks down to the moon of flame. Nothing can be made out besides this. But it is a sight. To see the crater in the forest and gas clouds sweep across the sky.

“Are you certain she’s here?”

Beside him, a young woman stands at perfect attention. He is unashamed to admit she is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. She’s inhuman, a conclusion he’s made onto all similar to her.

Jedi. Inquisitor. Sith. They’re all the same.

They’re magnificent beings bestowed with unjust power. Monstrosities of genetics and chance. Moff Gideon hates them all. They should all be dead, never created. These were the wishes of the Emperor after all. Total destruction of different.

She is no exception, and he can and will not separate her away from these beliefs. To not be confused it is imperative to note that he does not love her.

That emotion died alongside his wife’s illness.

Her beauty comes with her horror. With her lack of humanity. With her power, with her stride.

He wants nothing more than her dissection.

In memory it is difficult to recount who found who first. If either were found out all or they simply appeared. It’s been since the embarrassment of his battle with the Mandalorian on Nevarro all those moons ago. The disaster brought more eyes than necessary to the living Empire.

But it’s given him her, access to Inquisitors and the knowledge of the Empire’s greatest secrets.

Such as this.

The daughter of Lord Vader. A girl whose existence has baffled men of every station, will soon be his.

This is the culmination of his career.

The Inquisitor nods, inhaling. “I am. Your troopers gave confirmation of her appearance shortly after landing in the north sector. They say the green thing is with her.”

“The Child is no longer our priority,” he reminds. “It’s better we leave it.”

“That is a thought, but I enjoy surprises.” She looks over. “I’ll be sure you don’t take the fall for it.”

He catches himself in surprise. “You will?”

“Come now Gideon, this is a symbiotic relationship. You give me resources, I give you results. You give me men, I give you an army. You give me a girl… I give you favor.”

His throat clears. “Have you spoken to him recently?”

“No. He does not wish to be disturbed until it is done with.”

“Very well. The plan is yours to call for now.”

“She’s on the run,” the Inquisitor says, “This is all very typical behavior.”

He hums, a tickle of amusement. “After all these years you recognize her patterns?”

“Gideon, I’ve been looking for her longer than you’ve known she’s existed. Everything is going exactly as predicted.” She steps away.

“You’re going down for her?”

“No, not her. It isn’t time for us to meet yet. My prospects are… a bit shinier.”

---

Lumina should like to say she is accustomed to the fire. Her many years surrounded by lava and the makeshift playground of gysers have prepared her for this exact moment. The heat doesn’t bother her, the threat of falling trees causes no fear.

If anything, there’s great comfort. She’s reminded of home, of her days chased by experimental droids and whatever creature would spring on her.

The pyre is a source of happiness.

The smoke is a different story. Her lungs are strong but they are still human. It’s better to have her eyes closed now, the sting and burn involuntarily make tears streak down her face. She relies solely on the energy of the earth striking her feet. Every protruding tree root, every unturned log, every rock exists only in the form of her other senses.

Grogu is still well, she’s made sure of it. Her utility belt has only one air purifier, and there was no question he should be the receiver.

The forest feels double its size in this state with no telling how long she has to go until the Crest is within view.

She hasn’t developed a plan for anything passed this moment, foolishly believing she’d have more time and the eventual assault wouldn’t be so grand. Though the Empire is nothing but dramatic, she’d hoped that facet died with Palpatine. Apparently not.

She should know better. Really she should.

Grogu has to get to Din, this is the only thing she’s decided. If they’re caught together she won’t stand a chance against whatever demon is sent. The kid can’t see her in the way she’d like to be, she won’t allow it.

He’ll figure out what to do after, probably. He’s better on his feet, and in the midst of crisis she has a penchant for a more defensive strategy. She feels for her saber on her hip, coughing violently.

It’ll be fine.

As soon as she gets out of here.

Wherever here is.

---

“Lumina!”

She falls to her knees the second she reaches camp. There are stormtroopers everywhere, dead ones, armor cracked and bleeding out.

She’d laugh if her head weren’t so light.

Din runs to her, dropping right in front. He cups her jaw, wiping off rained ash. “Hey,” he says, then again to the Child. He removes the cape covering, petting his whiskered head. “Your mom took good care of you huh?”

Her voice rasps a sound, only a sound since she isn’t sure what it is she’s trying to convey. She coughs, loosing the weight in herself.

It all turns fuzzy.

“Fett! She needs help!”

The world crashes back together all at once. Ringing strikes through her brain, every nerve on fire. She sits up in a start, gasping into a device placed over her mouth.

It sounds with every breath she takes.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale—

She rips it off, gagging.

Boba stands above them, he tells her nothing but hands over a tin of water. Half goes down Lumina’s throat while the rest washes her face.

“Shh… I know,” Din mutters, rubbing her back. He attaches it to her belt, taking the one from Grogu. “Hey, look at me. You’re okay now. It’ll be okay. I thought— Fuck, you’re burning up.”

“You have to get them off world,” Boba says. ”Before the whole moon is in a blockade.”

“Shouldn’t she be examined first?”

“Boba’s right,” Lumina says. “We have to leave.” She struggles to stand, shaky legs having her leaned against Din. “I can scramble the ships signature when we’re on board. Boba, you and Fennec should come with us. You’ll be safer.”

“I’m not losing my father’s ship again.”

“Boba please,” she begs, whispered. “If the ship leaves they’ll follow—“

“They’ll know you’re with the Mandalorian, we’ll be left alone.”

“What if you’re not?“

He steps forward, holding her shoulders still. “I swore on my life that I would keep you safe, and that’s what I intend to do. If more come down they’ll realize you aren’t here and leave. It’ll buy you time.“

”But will you be safe?“

“Don’t worry about me little one.” A crack of thunder releases in the sky, lightning above the woods. “You must go,” he ushers.

“He’s right,” Din says. “Once the storm starts we’ll be sitting eopies.”

“Boba, the ship has—I can’t let you get hurt, I need you—“

Another crack. She jumps into Din.

“Listen to me,” Boba says, holding her face. “You’ve managed to keep your heart but you still have to stay alive. Do you understand me?” She nods. “I’ve found you twice already, I can do it a third.” He looks at Din, almost stuttering in gaze. “Remember what I told you.”

“I will,” he says.

“Good. Now go, both of you.”

---

Lumina’s worlds collided, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about either. Mustafar’s hell scorched her throat while the rains of Arkanis drowned her alive. The wind of both howls, whipping her ears.

Din fairs better, it doesn’t surprise her.

They drag each other in run, hands tied by fingers.

Grogu stays pressed against her chest, wrapped in herself.

They’re halfway to the Razor Crest when Lumina comes to a halt. She loses her footing in the mud, crashing to the ground. She shakes, dry heaving desperate for air.

“Lu?” Din asks. Holding her upright, he pulls her behind a boulder. “Sarad what’s wrong?”

The frame of her body pauses, face pinching together. He takes her shoulders, petting down her arms. She’s overcome with a chill, the hairs on her arms raise, her head dizzy.

“What’s wrong?” He asks again.

The Force isn’t her ideal solution in times like these. Really it never is an ideal solution—the whole damn thing has gotten her in more trouble than her whole life is worth—but the moons energy fields are in shambles. The fire, the storm, the never ending Imperial platoons, nothing is in balance.

Go figure.

To her own dismay, her hand enters the mud, squelching around it. Din stares at her like she’s mental, or she’s sure he is under the metal. None of it is pretty or idealized.

She connects to the energy of the moon, surrendering herself to its involuntary movement. She far prefers this side of herself, the one acting without the Force. Electrical currents are grounding and they do far greater for her benefit than the crackling in the sky.

She’s bound to it, and weeps whatever dictation the Force decides as she is forever tethered to its post.

Part of her hopes she’s miraculously died, that this is some odd purgatory, forcing her to relive… what exactly? She can’t say. The only time memories manifest in sight is with touch. Nothing here can provide help to any of that.

Nothing is real. Nothing makes sense.

Still, she can’t beat feeling of deja vu, a moment, a life on replay from a new perspective.

She wishes she were dead. It’d be easier.

She looks to Grogu and feels her heart stabbed.

She shouldn’t say such things.

“Take the baby,” Lumina whispers, tears hot down her face. “I want you to take the baby.” She pushes the Child to him, shaking her head. “You have to take him.”

“Why?“

She doesn’t know. Or she does and she doesn’t want to say. The truth is in the clawing of a vision, forcing its way onto her.

A mother takes the baby and the baby is lost.

A baby is hidden behind a crate for protection and the baby is lost.

A father promises to reunite with them and the baby is lost.

A baby is lost.

Taken.

Collected.

This is all she knows.

If she can stop it now, stop it this time—all will be well. The roles will reverse, and it will be well. She will stay. He will leave. The baby will remain.

It has to be well.

“If you get him to the ship you can leave,” Lumina says. “I’ll stay with behind.”

“Are you insane? They’re after the kid—”

“They’ll leave you alone,” she interrupts. “They’ll know I’m not with you, they’ll won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can explain it later but we’re running out of time. You have to go with Grogu.”

“I’m not doing that. I’m not leaving you here.”

If only he weren’t so difficult all the time. If only he were selfish and greedy and as disgusting as she is.

She shouldn’t say such things. She knows.

A sob wrecks her body, shaking her head. Her mind is clouded, clutching onto the baby. “You have to take him. You have to take the baby, he’s safe with you—“

“Lumina—“

“You’re not listening to me! I can’t lose you. I won’t do it. If you have the kid—“

“They kill us both.”

“No! No, they’ll keep you alive. I told Gideon not to hurt the kid,” she says at once. “I told him not to hurt either of you. He wants me. He’s scared of me, I know he is. I just need to talk to him.“

“He’ll kill you.”

“He won’t. He needs me alive.”

“You’re not going with him.”

“I don’t plan on it. You have to trust me. Take the kid and leave. I can take care of myself.”

“Even if I did, how will I know when to find you again?”

She remains in silence, head shaking.

“Lu. Lu no. No.“

“It won’t be safe Din.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do! I can’t keep doing this—“

“What? Us?”

“Putting you both in danger. I won’t do it anymore. Listen—“ she leans to him, “—You’ll move on,” she whispers. “I know you will. Okay? You’re going to leave and you’re going to do something great and you’ll take care of Grogu and he’s going to take care of you. You’re going to find someone else Din—“

“No—“

“Yes. You will. You’re going to find them and you’re going to love them until the day you die and even after that. They’ll be Mandalorian and you’ll forget all about me. You’ll only think of how awful I am and how lucky you are—“

“No!” he snaps. “No. No that’s not how this works. You’re not leaving us again. I won’t let you.” He grabs her face, and her heavy breath fogs his visor. “You’re not disappearing. You promised. You promised you wouldn’t leave anymore.”

“I know what I said. I lied. Okay? I lied. I lied about everything, that’s what I do. Just take the baby.” She pushes him. “Take the baby Din.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Take—“ She groans and waves her hand in front of his face. “You want to take the baby.”

“No, I don’t.”

She waves again. “You want to leave me and take the baby.”

Mind tricks are not the way of Sith, and she was never cut out to be a peacekeeping Jedi—ironically—it’s not in her blood.

He grabs her wrist. “What are you doing?”

“You—“ she gasps. “Why isn’t it working? You want—You have to—You have to leave. You have to leave Din, you have to—”

It all happens faster than she can process. Given her mental state she isn’t sure she processes it at all. No words or warnings come with it.

Just a sound.

And for once it isn’t her fault.

The moment comes in flashes, feeling like an eternity when it’s less than five seconds.

Din’s helmet, blankly staring at her. His hands leaving her to grab its rim. Those same hands ripping it over his head.

That same helmet bouncing on the ground, caked in mud.

His face.

Exactly as she imagined.

She commits him to memory, and for once she is grateful for the vault that it is. He’s older than her, that much is apparent. There’s an age of wisdom in his nature, tired from the decade more of life experience. The word handsome can’t justify it, she won’t allow it to.

He’s everything she could ever want. Everything she never thought herself good enough to have. Moonlight sprinkles on him past the storm clouds. It does more than reveal him to her eyes only. It becomes him. Is him.

His hooked nose, his hair that sticks up slightly with the abrupt removal of the helmet. It’s brown color and fluffy texture. How it curls at the top. His beard, growing back into a stubble from its fresh shave some days ago. His mustache, always the same and full grown. His skin is a couple shades lighter than hers, with soft lines between his thick brows and on his forehead.

His eyes.

They’re the exact shade of her contacts, with richness so full the brown might as well be classified as black.

She’s stuck in position, jaw dropped, doe eyed.

They only stare at each other. Brown and gray. Gray and brown.

And he kisses her.

He sets the baby on the ground, kisses her and he doesn’t stop. She won’t let him.

She’s pulled into him, onto him, as close as they can be with the restrictions of their bodies. It isn’t enough. They need to be closer. She needs to feel him. To be him. To have him. Every piece.

The rain soaks them both, running down the collar of his neck, flattening his hair.

None of it matters.

“You’re not leaving,” he says, desperate and warm. “You’re not—you promised.”

“I know,” she whines. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

“You said—“

“I have to. He won’t—Gideon won’t leave you alone until—“

“What does he have on you?” He moves up her jaw, nipping behind the ear.

“I can’t say.”

“Lumina.”

“I can’t, I can’t I’m sorry.” She drags his mouth back to hers. “I love you, just let me go. You have to let me go.”

“No, no.” He pulls away, staring right at her. “We’re not doing this again. You’re not leaving me and I’m not leaving you.” He leans into her again, panting into her mouth. “You’re coming with us. That’s final. I can’t live without you, I won’t do it. I’m asking you to stay, so stay. Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me.”

“I—Okay. Okay. I will. I’ll stay.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear.”

Their foreheads press together, each desperate for air.

“I love you,” Din says. “Get that through your fucking head. I love you, Lumina.” She cries again, and he picks up the Child. “We’ll find a way out of this, I promise.” Another bolt of lightning flashes above, thunder shaking the ground. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

The words echo in the back of her mind, just as pleading in another voice. It’s deeper, almost familiar.

Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.

Everything is the same.

She won’t go through it again.

Lumina kisses Din, holding the back of his head. He gives into her the way he always does. A weakened man of armor.

“You will take the Child,” she whispers into his mouth. He’s given no choice. Mind tricks are for Jedi.

Her people prefer force.

“I—“ He breaks in a groan. She’s tried not to hurt him, palm pressed to his scalp, though it is inevitable. “I will take the Child.”

“You will leave me here.”

“I will leave you here.”

“You won’t want to look for me.”

“I won’t want to look for you.”

Her grip loosens, and she pulls away. Din blinks at her dazed, looking dizzy without motion. “I’m sorry. It’ll stop hurting soon,” she mumbles. Wiping her eyes, it does nothing to defeat the rain. “I have to go.”

He nods. “I’m leaving with the kid.”

She nods. “Be safe.”

Thunder claps.

“You too.”

Their lips press together once more, then she ducks, kissing Grogu. “I will find you,” Lumina says, handing over Din’s helmet. The rain has washed it clean, unmarked once more. “Both of you.”

If it is another lie she will not admit it to herself.

“You have to go, now,” she says. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The Mandalorian runs off without looking back.

It’s always the same.

---

A TIE Fighter lands outside the Razor Crest two minutes after Din boards. He presses against the wall of the doorway, activating the security cameras outside. It sits surrounded by a dozen or so black armored droids.

He doesn’t think to contact Lumina through the comm.

“Fett. Fett do you copy? Fett!”

“I’m here Mandalorian,” he says. “What’s happened?”

“We’re at the ship and surrounded. There’s no way out.”

Boba groans, fit for a disapproving father. “How can we help?”

“Backup. There’s a TIE in my front yard.”

He hears Boba swear and shout something to Fennec about getting off her ass. “More troopers are coming in on our location. We’ll be there as soon as we can, hold tight. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Sounds good,” Din mutters, turning off the channel. “I’ll try not to die in the meantime.”

A voice calls from the outside, feminine and heavy with modulation. “I know you’re in there. There’s no point in hiding, why don’t you come out? I just want to talk.”

He sees her through the camera. Tall, thin, platinum blonde hair tied into a slicked bun. She wears an all black Imperial uniform, none like he’s seen before. The whole of her face is covered by a metal mask, serving as the vocoder.

“Don’t make me ask again, Din Djarin. Come on out before my droids storm.”

Under his breath he swears. Grogu hides in the space between two crates, a blanket is thrown over as covering.

“I’ll be right back,” Din whispers to him. “I promise.”

He walks off, cool and nonchalant. “If I knew Gideon had a pet I would’ve brought you a treat.”

“Funny!” She remarks, stepping forward. “And cute. What’s worse, the bark or the bite?”

“Hard to find out when you come with an army. Nice way to overcompensate.”

“Them?” She scoffs. “They’re a security measure. They won’t hurt you, they can, but they won’t.”

“Comforting.”

A beat passes. “Where are they?” She asks.

“Be more specific.”

She sighs, drowned in annoyance. “Atikya, and the little green rat you walk around with.”

“I don’t know an Atikya.”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I know all about you and your little girlfriend. Hopping from planet to planet, bounty hunting,” she says in mockery. ”I bet it was so sweet reuniting at Arkanis, wasn’t it?”

He stiffens. “She’s not here,” he tells her. “What do you want?”

She removes her mask, held to the side. She’s paler than Din would’ve thought possible, blue eyes dulled. “I want her to come home. That’s all.” Without the modulation her voice runs clear, poised. “This life is below her.”

“Who are you? One of her father’s workers?”

She scoffs, mouth fallen in surprise. “She’s actually calling him that? I thought it was a rumor from association.” Her head shakes. “You know, she gets so upset over what she’s called when she does it to herself. It’s ridiculous.” Her tongue clicks, and lips purse. “I never got the chance to work with the poor bastard, wish I did, would’ve saved me time.”

“Who are you?” Din repeats.

Her arms raise to the side, walking until they’re feet away. With complete earnest she announces, “I’m her sister.”

He scoffs. “No offense, but I don’t think we’re talking about the same girl here.”

Thin lips settle into a frown, gaze burning into him. She turns around, waving. “Find them,” she says. “Alive.” The droids take off on jets, dispersing in the air. She turns back. “If it were up to me, I’d have you dead on the spot.”

“Consider me terrified.”

From her back she reveals a long metal tube centered in a circle. Two beams of plasma ignite, the red a sharp contrast to the night.

Din furrows his brows, his posture unmoving. “You’re a Jedi?”

She laughs, staring at him in disbelief. “She hasn’t told you anything? She was more committed than he thought. Good. That means I was right.” She takes his silent confusion as incentive to continue. “Your girlfriend,” she pauses, “Gideon believed she abandoned us completely but I knew.” She smiles, biting her bottom lip. “I never lost faith in her. I told him. I said Gideon—“ Her other hand stretches out, an invisible wind slamming Din against the ship. “—she would never lose her self worth over some boy. Not someone lesser than us.” She disengages the bottom of her saber, keeping it pointed forward in her walk. “She’s only doing what she’s told. If Relena tells her to pretend to be in love she’ll do it. It doesn’t mean anything, we’re made to listen to orders.”

The tip of her sword presses against his chest. He stifles a groan, turning his head away from the blinding light.

She frowns. “She’s good at listening,” she says. “When it gets her what she wants.”

Her saber retreats into the hilt, and she carelessly drops Din.

He whips out his pistol, shot aimed at her stomach. In a wave, she stops the blot midair and tosses it into the ground. The lightsaber turns on once more.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Din groans, standing up. He takes his spear in his hands. “You were boring me.”

---

She isn’t the greatest fighter Din’s ever faced, but she certainly is the angriest.

Lightsaber and beskar whip and crash in the air. Every strike against him rings into the hollow of the storm. The hum of her saber is stronger than Ahsoka’s, it carries rage and snarls at every spin.

Her moves are more than Ahsoka’s as well, her hits are in pure defense with no tactical thought behind them. She relies on power not skill. On truly believing she can never be beaten, on knowing deep down she amounts to more than the Mandalorian would ever. Could ever.

For her victory is status, it’s pride.

It isn’t a simple battle, not by a longshot, but he’s faced worse.

Or he’d like to believe.

The horrid saber whirls in assault, blades spinning on their rotator.

That’s a cheap trick, he thinks glumly.

He’s kept a distance away from it, cracking his knuckles.

“What does Gideon want with her?” He asks over the noise.

“If you surrender you can ask him yourself!”

Hard pass.

“I don’t get it. You act like you care about her but you’re working for him!”

“With! I only serve the Emperor. It’s what she would want!”

He stops himself before saying her name. “What she wants? She hates the Empire, it ruined her life.”

“It gave her life! Purpose! We’ve fallen from grace but we will be restored. She’ll make sure of it!”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because!” She shouts over the wind. Her lightsaber powers down, and in her hand all those feet away, she grabs Din by the throat, lifting him in the air. “It’s what she was made to do, and our people can’t ignore destiny.”

One by one dark troopers soar into the sky. They head for the edge of atmosphere, and disappear into the clouds.

Din is thrown to the ground, coughs rattling his body.

“Did you get them?” She asks, speaking into her commlink. The response comes privately in her ear. “What do you mean they’re called off? Where is she? They’re supposed to be together,” she says. “I know what she said—I gave you my word, I intend to keep it… It’s not a risk—I know what she’s capable of, I told you—”

She looks at Din. “I have the Mandalorian. I can bring him in.”

After another moment she groans, throwing the comm to the ground it breaks in a stomp.

“Consider yourself lucky I won’t kill you,” she says, crouching down. Her hand is splayed in the air, immobilizing him. “But… I do think it’s best if you take a nice long nap. Don’t worry,” she whispers. “I’ll make sure you feel everything.”

Din cries out, every neuron in his brain, every ending of his nerves spazzing and irritated. He’s overcome with his body feeling dragged against gravel.

At the end, all he sees is white, and then nothing at all.

---

Everything resembles a swamp here, with choking humidity and the ground squishing at her feet. Lumina isn’t sure if she’s been walking for minutes or hours. Either way she doesn’t know where she’s going.

It doesn’t matter.

It’s all decrepit, full of vines, snakes, and willow trees. Flowers are dead, grass is burnt, she’s completely alone.

She’s heard of phenomenons like this. Power centers of the Force, the darkside. Buried in its villainy, leaving whoever enters no choice but to face themselves in ways unimaginable. Unbearable.

Enough to drive you to madness.

The question becomes what happens if that who enters is already mad? And what constitutes madness to begin with?

She doesn’t care enough to answer.

Lumina doesn’t feel like herself. The statement alone is easy enough to admit, it may be an obvious. There’s argument that there’s never been a her to begin with. She doesn’t know who she is, how she stands in the galaxy, of course she feels like a stranger in her skin.

Except that isn’t it.

There’s someone else inside her, or some thing, she can’t tell. It’s like a possession.

None of it worries her.

This must be a Jedi trap, Sith don’t scare in the dark.

Lumina hates the Force.

A wave of pain comes as soon as she steps. Her blood runs cold.

Her hand hides in the ground again, searching for any stability, any clue to what she may be looking for.

She introduces the worst of it into her system. The spinning axis of the moon, the rumbling of soldiers feet. The rest of her senses activate in the panic, noise unbelievably loud, smelling nothing but wet soil and charred tree.

Din.

It hasn’t gone right. She’s miscalculated.

They’re connected. She knows every part of him, she’s memorized the beat of his heart and pattern of his breath. From the moment he wakes to the moment he sleeps she is enthralled by his aura, his microcosm in the Force.

If he were killed, her very soul would rip out, torn to shreds, unavailable for repair.

This isn’t that, but it may be worse.

Above her, black figures burst from trees into the night sky. They disappear into a cloud.

Her head twitches over her shoulder, a rustling heard in the woods.

A faint male voice echos from within. “…The Mandalorian is down?”

Inside of Lumina, a spark runs down her spine. It grips her bones and breaks them, it takes her nerves and sets them ablaze. She’s sick without vomit or fainting, it’s all internalized. Acidic bile in her throat, her head filled with emptiness.

If something has happened to Din then—

”Have you heard anything about the alien?” the voice asks. “If she’s alone we have to get back to the ship or else we’re fucked… She’s Lord Vader’s daughter. What else do you need to know?”

---

Behind two crates, covered by a blanket, a baby cries.

The black figure of a shadow stalks to it, face covered by metal. It finds the infant, pausing at the sight. Slowly, the shadow lifts the child, holding it in one arm.

It no longer cries.

While a Mandalorian is left in the dirt, the shadow leaves with child. It does not look back.

Nothing ever changes.

---

There are very few benefits which come with the claim of daughter, in any capacity to any parentage. Daughters are not esteemed in the way a son is. They are not catered to in life, they hold no value.

The title of daughter was bestowed to her in mockery. Questioned and laughed at by the Emperor while she shriveled at his feet. He remarked her with disgust and humiliation. He held her to the light in fascination and examined her face with yellow eyes and rotten teeth.

The rumor was spread by guards stationed at the doorway. Watching her with little empathy, unmoving.

They knew not of her origin, of seven years trapped in a tower. Of fourteen years prior to that being watched through camera, excused for private training, groomed for legacy. Of months before that. A stolen child.

They only knew of her then. Someone thrown to the ground, cuffed and shocked until her heart gave out.

“Why, I don’t believe it,” the Emperor said upon seeing her. His breath matched the rest of him. He spoke with spit. “Lord Vader, you surprise me.”

She trusted Vader. She never should have but she did. She felt comfort in his proximity. His cybernetics scratched her and his breathing unnerved, but it didn’t matter. All she wanted was to be with him. The worst part about it all, is that she knew in some odd way, he felt the same in her.

He used to sit with her in silence, walk the castle at night. He’d watch her train, watch her eat, have her recite lessons. Planets. Constitutions. Floor plans of Starships, and Jedi history.

Palpatine recognized this.

“How uncanny…” he said. “Did you know, if it weren’t you, it would have been her. Perhaps it should have been. Now I did have a plan but,” he clicked his tongue, “with Padmé in the picture it never quite worked out.” He smiled and gripped her chin. “How long have you been keeping this secret Lord Vader? Tell me.”

“Around twenty years, my Master.”

He repeated it, through his own disbelief. “Why, you must care for this thing as if it were your own daughter. Which begs the question, whose life do you value more? Hers… or Skywalker’s? What would Padmé think?”

The answer was no contest. Still, the title remained.

It will always remain.

Moff Gideon has surely heard the story, his life is nothing but a sad attempt to prove himself. She’ll be used again if they find her, tested certainly.

It’s all the same. Every time it’s the same.

She’s only ever what others want of her.

If they want a killer, she will pretend to enjoy the slaughter.

If they want a lover, she will pretend to be nothing more than tender touches and warm embrace.

Lumina places the respirator over her mouth, ducking under a branch. Forces of stormtroopers hound the area, the static of their comms sounds all around. A new fire starts, built to spite the rain. She ignites her lightsaber in the thick black smoke.

The red beam of plasma contrasts the orange fire, it is hotter than the fire, it is hotter than the lava streams of Mustafar. There is comfort in hell, in seeing her paradise fallen. She has the pleasure of poisoned fauna, the heat of home, and a little black serpent at her feet that guides where she cannot see.

She does not worry.

Sith don’t scare in the dark.

If they want the daughter of Darth Vader, she will become what she has always been.

She will not pretend, she will not lie.

She will be her father’s daughter, and everything they thought of him.

Lumina’s heavy gasps, her plea for air, is replaced by labored mechanics. Audible with every breath, she disappears into the eternal midnight of hell.

---

Chapter Thirty-One: The Devil Rings His Bell

---

Taglist: @lexloon @jay-bel @xsadderdazeforeverx @spideysimpossiblegirl @sarahjkl82-blog @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny

#starlight #din djarin x original character #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x female oc #Din Djarin x Original Female Character #mando x ofc #Mando x oc #mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #din djarin x oc #mando x original female character #Mando x original character

18 notes · View notes