#Bubble Wrap Per Meter

[bubblewrapjogja]

Ö88ᑫ~8585~38Ö8 (WA) Nama Lain Dari Plastik Gelembung Jual Babel Wrap Bantul

Toko plastik gelembung. Plastik packing gelembung harga bubble wrap wates pabrik plastik gelembung wates. Produsen plastik gelembung kulon progo bubble wrap belinya dimana. Harga bubble wrap 1 roll apa itu bubble wrap. Bubble wrap dijual dimana toko plastik jual bubble wrap bubble wrap putih bubble wrap plastik bubble wrap jual toko plastik gelembung kulon progo beli babel wrap. Grosir bubble wrap wates. Bubble wrap ukuran besar pabrik babel wrap wates bubble wrap untuk makanan. Beli babel wrap gunung kidul .

[alfatherm123]

Alfatherm Insulation: Leading the Way in Premium Bubble Insulation for Delhi

At the forefront of excellence, Alfatherm Insulation stands as the go-to destination for superior bubble insulation products and services in Delhi, known for its exceptional standards. This reflective insulation comprises multiple layers of polyethylene bubbles encased between aluminum foil sheets. Effectively trapping air, a poor heat conductor, the aluminum foil reflects radiant heat away, making it remarkably effective for insulating structures in diverse climates.

Advantages of Bubble Insulation Sheets in Delhi:

Effectively mitigates heat gain in summers and heat loss in winters. Enhances energy efficiency, reducing heating and cooling expenses. Diminishes condensation and moisture accumulation. Provides soundproofing and noise reduction benefits. Lightweight and easy to install. Bubble Insulation Product Specifications:

Minimum Order Quantity: 100 Square Meters Brand: Aerolam Roll Dimension: 1.25 meters x 40 meters (Width x Length) Bubble Size: 4 MM, 8 MM, 10 MM, 12 MM Reflection Ratio: 95% Nominal Thickness: 4 MM Thermal Resistance Emissivity: 0.04 – 0.05 Temperature Range: -122 deg F to 230 deg F (-50 deg C to 110 deg

Aerolam Super MetPet features a single layer of Fire Retardant Air Bubble Film with Metallized Aluminium Foil on both sides.

Application Areas:

Roof Shading Pre-Engineered Buildings Factory Shades Poultry Farm Insulation Roof and Wall Insulation Used across various industries, including factories, pre-engineered building (PEB) shades, flats, etc., this single-layer bubble insulation film is highly preferred, particularly in the PEB industry for roof and wall insulation.

Additional Information:

Item Code: SuperMetpet Production Capacity: 250,000 per month Delivery Time: To be referenced Alfatherm Insulation: Premier Bubble Insulation Provider in Delhi

Bubble insulation, offered by Alfatherm Insulation, is the popular and efficient choice for insulating homes and businesses in Delhi. As the leading provider of bubble insulation in the region, Alfatherm Insulation has earned a solid reputation for delivering quality products and exceptional customer service.

Alfatherm Insulation, a leading manufacturer and supplier in Delhi, presents a diverse range of bubble insulation products, including:

Bubble wrap insulation Bubble board insulation Bubble bag insulation Bubble foil insulation

Crafted from high-quality materials, Alfatherm Insulation's bubble insulation products ensure excellent thermal insulation. They are lightweight, easy to install, and environmentally friendly.

Committed to delivering top-notch products and services, Alfatherm Insulation has a team of experienced professionals ready to assist customers in choosing the right bubble insulation product for their needs. Competitive pricing and prompt delivery are additional perks.

If you are in search of bubble insulation in Delhi, Alfatherm Insulation is the optimal choice, offering a wide product range and dedicated customer service, aiming to provide the best possible experience for their customers.

A Brief History of Alfatherm Insulation:

Established several years ago, Alfatherm Insulation began as the premier bubble insulation provider in Delhi with a mission to supply top-quality insulation materials for energy savings and environmental sustainability. Since its humble beginnings, the company has evolved into the go-to provider for bubble insulation, serving satisfied clients across the region.

Why Choose Alfatherm's Insulation: The Best Bubble Insulation Provider in Delhi?

Superior Quality: As a market leader in Delhi, Alfatherm ensures strict adherence to quality control, using the finest materials. Their bubble insulation features a double layer of air-bubble foil sandwiched between highly reflective aluminum, providing exceptional thermal insulation for warm winters and cool summers.

Cost-Effective Solution: Alfatherm Insulation, the best bubble insulation provider in Delhi, offers a cost-effective solution for various applications, from residential homes to commercial buildings and agricultural facilities. With the potential to significantly reduce energy bills, Alfatherm Bubble Insulation is a smart, long-term investment. Environmentally Friendly: Alfatherm's bubble insulation aligns with the company's commitment to sustainability. Designed to minimize waste, its lightweight and compact nature reduces transportation costs and carbon emissions, benefiting both customers and the environment.

Installation Ease and Versatility: Bubble insulation is easy to install compared to other forms of insulation. Compatible with different building types and adaptable to various surfaces, it caters to diverse needs effortlessly. Its lightweight quality ensures a safe, quick, and hassle-free installation process, making it a preferred choice among builders, architects, and homeowners alike.

[herrymccourt]

The Ultimate Guide to The Various Film for Conservatory Roof

Are you worried about your conservatory getting too hot? Conservatory window films can be used to reduce heat and glare. They also protect furnishings from UV light. It is stylish, and economical and allows you to still enjoy the view through it.

Our film is much easier to maintain than conservatory blinds. Our solar film can be ordered by the meter or cut to your specific measurements.

Conservatory Window Film - Stylish, efficient, and affordable

Films are cheaper than blinds

It's easy to clean

Let's see what you can do

Per meter or cut to size

You can make your conservatory more comfortable by applying conservatory reflective film. This will reduce the amount of natural light entering the room and trap heat.

Film for conservatory roof is the best option as it provides a large area of glazed space directly facing the sun. We recommend darkening the conservatory roof film if your room faces south. As long as it is made from toughened glass, we do not recommend using a dark tint. You can use a medium-grade film that is compatible with all types of glass if you are unsure.

After you have dealt with the roof, you should also consider the windows and doors in the room. For windows that are exposed to direct sunlight for prolonged periods, choose darker films. As a rule of thumb, East facing windows will receive the sun early in the morning, South facing windows most of the day, and West facing windows the sun late in the afternoon. The evening.

Glass compatibility

Conservatory glass roof film is usually made from double-glazed units that come with toughened glasses. All of our films, including darker ones, are compatible with toughened glass. It is important to check the makeup on any older glass constructions. Please use medium-grade film if in doubt.

Polycarbonate roofs

Choose from our polycarbonate roofing films, which have been specifically formulated for this material. The films can't be removed once they have been applied.

Apply Your Film

A tinted film for conservatory roof, a self-adhesive material that can be applied with a soapy solution and a squeegee to eliminate bubbles, is made from a soapy water solution. This type of work is best done by two people. Access equipment will be needed to reach the roof's underside. Apply the film only on cool days as it can dry too fast.

Solar Control Film

This is a great way to insulate a conservatory. This simple but extremely effective solar control material will let you spend more time in your conservatory without spending a lot. It's our favorite insulation material. The large stickers make it easy to not compromise on any aspect to get the desired results. 

Conservatory window film works to control heat and sun rays. Window film gives you the option to keep your conservatory's sunny feel while maintaining a comfortable temperature. This is the most popular option, as it preserves the garden atmosphere of your conservatory while increasing your heat efficiency.

Glass film pros

It can lower solar heat, making the temperature more comfortable throughout the year -- especially during summer

Solar control film can be used for polycarbonate and glass. Please refer to our roof type guide, if you aren't sure.

Conservatory window film reduces sunlight entering the room. This is useful if you are trying to focus on a computer or TV screen.

You can reduce the sun's glare by minimizing its intensity. This can help to prevent fading and discoloration of furniture and photos over time.

Conservatory roof film can be more cost-effective than a new, solid roof. This is the best option if you want to reduce heat and glare while keeping overall costs down.

Different films have different benefits. Some conservatory window films block more sunlight than heat, while others block more light.

Are you looking for "conservatory roof film installers near me"? then contact us. We at Tinting Express Limited offer window film, car wrapping, window privacy screens, and many other services to residential, commercial, and automotive industries. 

Tinting Express Limited 01271 320181 Unit 17, Taw Mill Business Park, Howard Avenue, Barnstaple, Devon EX32 8QA United Kingdom

[pusatbubblewrapsurabaya]

DISTRIBUTOR BUBBLE WRAP TERLARIS, Call 0858-1155-3491, Penjual Bubble Wrap Terdekat Jawa Timur Surabaya

ORDER WA 0858-1155-3491, Jual Bubble Wrap Dekat Sini Di Sidoarjo, Jual Bubble Wrap Eceran Surabaya dan Sekitarnya, Jual Bubble Wrap Hitam Surabaya dan Sekitarnya, Jual Bubble Wrap Hitam, Jual Bubble Wrap Murah, Bubble Wrap Roll Besar, Bubble Wrap Packing, Bubble Wrap Gelembung Besar, Bubble Wrap Dekat Sini Jawa Timur Sidoarjo, Bubble Wrap Dijual di Toko Apa, Beli Bubble Wrap Surabaya, Cara Packing Frozen Food, Bubble Wrap 1 Meter, Cara Packing Barang, Bubble Wrap Yang  Bagus, Packing Bubble Wrap, Jual Bubble Wrap Terdekat, Toko Bubble Wrap Surabaya, Toko yang Jual Bubble Wrap, Bubble Wrap Eceran, Bubble Wrap Harganya, Bubble Wrap Untuk Makanan, Bubble Wrap Packaging, Beli Bubble Wrap, Bubble Wrap 125 x 50 m, Bubble Wrap 1 Gulung, Bubble Wrap Kertas, Bubble Wrap Harga, Bubble Wrap Plastik, Bubble Wrap 50m Roll, Fungsi Bubble Wrap, Bubble Wrap 50 Meter, Bubble Wrap Beli Dimana, Bubble Wrap Amplop, Bubble Wrap Yang Murah, Tempat Beli Bubble Wrap, Bubble Wrap Berapa Meter, Harga Bubble Wrap Per Meter, Distributor Bubble Wrap Surabaya, Bubble Wrap Lip And Eye Cream, Jual Plastik Bubble Wrap di Surabaya, Plastik Bubble Wrap Sidoarjo, Bubble Wrap Untuk Packing, Bubble Wrap Warna Hitam, Bubble Wrap Ukuran Besar, Dimana Beli Bubble Wrap di Surabaya.

 🏪 PUSAT BUBBLE WRAP SURABAYA

Merr - Jl. Ir Soekarno, Semolowaru Timur 2 No. 47A,

Surabaya

📍https://goo.gl/maps/2Rr7dk2NKQVxL3nn6

  FB : Bubblewrap Termurah

Tokopedia : www.tokopedia.com/pusatbubble

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No. HP : https://wasap.at/HdSnR5

[pusatbubblewraptermurah]

TANPA PRE-ORDER BUBBLE GELEMBUNG RELATIF MURAH, Call 0858-1155-3491, Cara Packing Frozen Food Jawa Timur Sidoarjo

ORDER WA 0858-1155-3491, Jual Bubble Wrap Dekat Sini Di Sidoarjo, Jual Bubble Wrap Eceran Surabaya dan Sekitarnya, Jual Bubble Wrap Hitam Surabaya dan Sekitarnya, Jual Bubble Wrap Hitam, Jual Bubble Wrap Murah, Bubble Wrap Roll Besar, Bubble Wrap Packing, Bubble Wrap Gelembung Besar, Bubble Wrap Dekat Sini Jawa Timur Sidoarjo, Bubble Wrap Dijual di Toko Apa, Beli Bubble Wrap Surabaya, Cara Packing Frozen Food, Bubble Wrap 1 Meter, Cara Packing Barang, Bubble Wrap Yang  Bagus, Packing Bubble Wrap, Jual Bubble Wrap Terdekat, Toko Bubble Wrap Surabaya, Toko yang Jual Bubble Wrap, Bubble Wrap Eceran, Bubble Wrap Harganya, Bubble Wrap Untuk Makanan, Bubble Wrap Packaging, Beli Bubble Wrap, Bubble Wrap 125 x 50 m, Bubble Wrap 1 Gulung, Bubble Wrap Kertas, Bubble Wrap Harga, Bubble Wrap Plastik, Bubble Wrap 50m Roll, Fungsi Bubble Wrap, Bubble Wrap 50 Meter, Bubble Wrap Beli Dimana, Bubble Wrap Amplop, Bubble Wrap Yang Murah, Tempat Beli Bubble Wrap, Bubble Wrap Berapa Meter, Harga Bubble Wrap Per Meter, Distributor Bubble Wrap Surabaya, Bubble Wrap Lip And Eye Cream, Jual Plastik Bubble Wrap di Surabaya, Plastik Bubble Wrap Sidoarjo, Bubble Wrap Untuk Packing, Bubble Wrap Warna Hitam, Bubble Wrap Ukuran Besar, Dimana Beli Bubble Wrap di Surabaya.

🏪 PUSAT BUBBLE WRAP SIDOARJO

Pondok Jati blok B no.3, Sidoarjo (Dekat Stadion GOR)

📍https://g.page/jualbubblewrapmurah?share

 FB : Bubblewrap Termurah

Tokopedia : www.tokopedia.com/pusatbubble

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No. HP : https://wasap.at/HdSnR5

[pusatbubblewrapgresik]

DISTRIBUTOR BUBBLE WRAP TERLARIS, Call 0858-1155-3491, Penjual Bubble Wrap Terdekat Jawa Timur Gresik

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🏪 PUSAT BUBBLE WRAP GRESIK

Mutiara Graha Agung blok E-01,  Gresik

📍https://goo.gl/maps/Yn6bsw41JrDU8t838

 FB : Bubblewrap Termurah

Tokopedia : www.tokopedia.com/bubblewrappalingbagus

IG : https://www.instagram.com/pusatbubblewrapmurah/

No. HP : https://wasap.at/HdSnR5

[vendor743hargamurah]

https://www.docdroid.net/sRWpvod/grosir-pita-satin-surabaya-pdf

Beriringan majunya jaman, keperluan akan informasi-informasi ke arah segi keperluan atau eksistensi makin pesat. Keliru satunya merupakan barang plastik kemasan gelembung. Kami faham bahwa barang-barang hari ini berikut ini semakin lanjut serta bermacam. Oleh karna itu, ulasan tempo berikut ini akan menjunjung tema tentang plastik kemasan gelembung penyebab kenapa pembahasan ini dibutuhkan sebab ini adalah salahsatu elemen penting guna sebagian pihak. Sehingga referensi tentang aneka ragam produk dan faedahnya diinginkan bisa menyokong mengampu banyak insan yang sedang menggali wacana atau referensi baru terhubung hal yang sudah disebutkan. Dapat serta mengampu para pelajar perguruan tinggi / siswa yang tengah mencari materi guna riset, mandat pendidikan atau saja mencari entertainmen bagi yang suka mengamati. Lah faedah lainnya juga supaya pemirsa lebih cepat mempunyai wacana yang diinginkan. Karna di zaman sains tempo berikut ini sangat mudah mengakses pengetahuan tentang yg mana sekedar sampai terhadap pedalaman kampung sekalipun, asalkan dapat terhubung dg network www dan memiliki perkakas untuk menemukan www. Dg demikian para pembaca mampu menghadiri situs berikut ini sembarang waktu serta dimanapun dikau ingin. Pengamat serta bisa memajukan / berkontribusi pula lanjut apabila mendapatkan komentar, opini, / ide-ide kentir maupun pendapat lain tentang tulisan yang kami ketik. Pemirsa mampu mengutarakan / mengetik ide-ide, bantahan, pandangan komentar dan sejenisnya pada kolom yg udah tersedia. Bisa serta menghubungi kita melalui kontak yg telah termaktub pada situs berikut ini, yang bisa kita cukup serta kita kembangkan pada penyajian tulisan berikutnya demi lagi bervariasi serta sesuai dg selera pemirsa. Bubble wrap adalah ragam plastik bening yg memiliki bola-bola udara pada permukannya. Biasadigunakan guna mengemas benda-benda pecah belah / produk elektronikdan benda-benda sensitif yg lain. Biasanya gelembung bungkus lanjut difungsikan guna membungkus paket / barang pecah belah demi tetap aman tempo pada pengiriman.

jual plastik bubble

Bubble wrap ialah keliru tunggal peralatan pembungkusan yg berupa lembaran plastik dan mempunyai gelembung-gelembung di semua bagiannya dimana bertujuan bagi melindungi barang produk sekitar stress, benturan atau guncangan, sehingga produk yang sudah disebutkan aman dan tak rusak. Disediakan pada berbagai pilihan warna dan dimensi. Jika kau sedang mencari pembahasan mengenai jual plastik bubble wrap, anda terletak di situs yg benar. Gesitnya perkembangan information technology ahir-ahir ini menyebabkan positif pada segala kalangan. Putra-putri perguruan, mahasiswa, ataupun masyarakat dapat dengan mudah mengakses pengetahuan yang dia-dia inginkan. Tiada perlu repot-repot hadir ke tertentu wahana guna memiliki wawasan tentang wahana tersebut. Asalkan bisa terhubung dengan jaringan online, dimanapun kami cukup kami bisa menggali semua informasi yg kami perlukan. Website berikut ini secara sadar kami cipta guna menyediakan tulisan-tulisan bagi untuk keperluan penelitian, tugas madrasah, atau yg lainnya. Opini / masukan yg membangun sangat kita perlukan agar perkembangan pengetahuan yang kami jabarkan

alamat plastik bubble termurah

Gelembung bungkus adalah salah esa peralatan pembungkusan yg berupa lembaran plastik serta memiliki gelembung-gelembung pada seluruh bagiannya ditempatmana dimaksudkan guna melindungi barang produk dari tekanan, tumbukan atau guncangan, sehingga produk yang sudah disebutkan aman serta tak rusak. Disediakan dalam aneka opsi warna dan dimensi.

[vendor641suppliermurah]

Grosir Bubble Wrap 0882·lϬ02·2З9ᜪ[WA]

Ulasan grosir bubble wrap ini mampu kita temui pada web laman. Halaman yg dimaksud ialah web atau alamat web yg terdapat di online. Isi artikel mampu bermacam-macam sesuai sekitar keinginan pembuat web halaman. Yg harapannya kita ulas tempo ini merupakan web laman yg bermuatan tulisan mengenai suatu barang. Adanya ulasan yang dibikin akan berguna sebagai satu orang yang menginginkannya, sebab membentang hulu informasi guna bisa difungsikan untuk material riset, mengadakan mandat sekolah atau guna mendapatkan wawasan serta wawasan yg baru. Tulisan artikel mampu dibaca dg gampang oleh karena itu, jadi harapannya sangat mengampu sebagai seseorang yang menggali informasi / informasi dg pesat. Referensi mampu diakses darimana sekedar, sebab dengan adanya ilmu pengetahuan waktu ini yang kian kedepan dan tumbuh. Dengan sains yg semakin canggih dg mesin pemburu sendirinya seorang insan yang di kota, di kelurahan ataupun pada pedalaman bisa menemukan tulisan ini. Bagi dapat bisa mengakses sebuah ulasan perlu terdapatnya jaringan. Jaringan merupakan suatu skema ditempatmana tunggal dengan yg lainnya bisa terhubung. Dengan gampangnya serta canggihnya tehnologi, maka kamu mampu mengakses situs ini bilamana serta dimana saja yg anda ingin. Pabila dikau mempunyai pendapat, pandangan / opini yang beda tentang artikel berikut ini anda dapat berkontribusi atau menyampaikan lebih lanjut pada dalam persegi pendapat. Pada pada website situs ini sudah tersedia kolom bagi komentar, serta atau dapat menghubungi dg nomor yang sudah tertera pada ulasan berikut ini. Jual-beli gelembung bungkus atau plastik gelembung yang ialah keliru satu peralatan kemasan yang digunakan sebagai melindungi dan meminimalisir kerusakan hasil-hasil yg bersifat fragile rawan rusak waktu dalam proses pengiriman mover oleh jasa ekspedisi kurir. Kita jual-beli bubble wrap gulungan berbagai ukuran serta warna. Bagi detail serta wawasan produk silakan mengkontak kami.

plastik bubble beli dimana

Bagi anda pemilik bisnis / bisnis online, tak terdapat salahnya memilih bubble wrap merek berikut ini bagi savety produk dalam pengiriman. Apabila anda ingin mempunyai mutu terbaik, pasti harus dipastikan terlebih dahulu bahwa distributor tersebut benar-benar pengecer kredibel jadi semua produk yg dijualnya terjamin keasliannya. Terkait kapan anda mendambakan makalah tentang plastik bubble denpasar pastinya amat beraneka. Sebab separuh kalangan memerlukannya tergesa-gesa, namun ada pula yang tiada begitu terburu2. Entah alasannya, di tempat ini kau dapat mengintip tulisan ini dengan cuma2. Kamu tak usah mengeluarkan uang, selain jaringan internet dan pln. Bahkan selain artikel plastik bubble denpasar, anda pastinya bisa menelisik aneka koleksi makalah lain yg berhubungan. Tiada berlebihan jika separuh orang betah berselancar di website yg ini. Pabila ingin chat dengan admin, langsung saja whatsapp di nomor yang telah tersedia.

diskon plastik bubble terbaru

Gelembung wrap merupakan bahan kemasan plastik baru yang teksturnya ringan, kejernihan yang oke, tiada beracun dan tak berasa. Barang ini dapat melindungi barang dg baik tentang kelembaban, penyangga, pengawetan kalor, dan semacamnya. Banyak digunakan pada elektronik, instrumen, barang pabrik, peralatan tempat tangga, furnitur dan produk cat, barang bening, instrumen presisi serta packaging shock absorber yg lain. Warna dan ukuran produk juga bisa disetarakan sesuai dengan kebutuhan pelanggan.

[vendor547grosirjual]

Di Mana Ada Jual Bubble Wrap Ô88ᒿ~1ϬÔᒿ~ᒿᣮ97[WA]

Barangkali ini merupakan ulasan tentang di mana ada jual bubble wrap yg sedang anda butuhkan. Saat ini era ilmu pengetahuan makin maju, rentang tidak lagi soal guna seorang insan tetap bisa berbincang dengan orang beda di berbagai daerah bahkan di bagian dunia. Kerumitan tehnologi ini juga mempermudah kita sebagai menemukan berbagai referensi apapun dan dimanasaja kami terletak. Cuma dengan memakai jaringan, kita dapat mengakses pembahasan yg kami dambakan. Di web tersebut orang yg memakai sebagai penelitian, tugas perguruan ataupun sebatas mendapat wawasan baru bisa menemukan lebih-lebih memberikan masukan lagi lanjut dg memberikan tinggalan komentar dikolom yang udah disediakan atau men-japri melalui nomor yang telah tersedia. Pelastik gelembung ialah adalah tertentu mesin pelindung yang umum digunakan untuk membungkus sekaligus melindungi tertentu produk dari benturan atau stress. Pelastik bubble berbentuk seperti kertas pelastik transparan tapi memiliki kantung-kantung udara gelembung yang sangat lanjut jumlahnya. Oleh karena itu dikau tak perlu khawatir lagi kapan barang kiriman dikau yg rawan pecah tak selamat hingga gol dengan pelastik pengemas ini.

grosir plastik bubble termurah

Gelembung wrap warna berikut ini tersusun dari pelastik yg didaur ulang jadi keberadaan pembungkus gelembung juga dapat mengurangi plastik-plastik yg sudah ada jadi pabrikasi gelembung wrap pula ramah lingkungan. Untuk pengguna pelastik pembungkus berikut ini, kamu juga harus memikirkan lingkungan pra menggunakannya. Jika kau tengah menelusuri artikel tentang styrofoam dan bubble wrap, kamu berada pada daerah yang tepat. Pastinya, sebab styrofoam dan bubble wrap merupakan pengetahuan yg mana sangat krusial supaya diketahui. Disamping sampeyan, barangkali ada bejibun orang yang turut memerlukan pengetahuan yg ini. Kita ingin, artikel kilat yg ada di sini bisa bermanfaat bagi kakak. Ingat agar kakak memberi opini terkait styrofoam dan bubble wrap di akhir tulisan ini. Solusinya, kamu dapat mendatangi ke situs link yang terdapat di sebelah yang merupakan toko via internet murah di indonesia. Banyak sekali macam styrofoam dan bubble wrap yg ada di toko iklan yang ada di sebelah dapat kamu peroleh langsung via situs tersebut ataupun mengunjungi ke tokonya. Andai anda tidak dapat datang, dikau juga dapat memesan dengan cara internet yg selanjutnya produk tersebut di antar ke tempat kamu..

harga plastik packing bubble

Gelembung wrap merupakan materi packaging dan pelindung yang tersusun sekitar gelembung-gelembung udara rendah yg dirancang bagi melindungi dan mengawal benda-benda yg rapuh. Banyak insan bertanya-tanya apa ilmu sains yang dipergunakan di balik bungkus bubble yang imut berikut ini.

[nbrook29]

Lmao I don’t know how this happened 😆

***

June 26th 2021, Saturday

When Sander wakes up, it’s to the early morning June sunlight hitting him straight in the face. There’s a vague smell of alcohol lingering in the air, and he groans pitifully when he remembers the amount of beer he drank last night; well, it wasn’t that much per se, but for his not-usually-drinking self it was a bit much, which would explain the sour taste in his mouth. He could be beating himself up for letting a little too much loose and messing up his rather strict rules, but it’s finally summertime and he was feeling so happy and free. Exams are done and over with, bigger gatherings are allowed again, and most importantly, the love of his life has just graduated high school and-

Wait. 

He blinks his eyes open, arm reaching to the other side of the bed expecting a warm body, but it’s met with cold sheets instead. 

Where did that love of his life go? 

Bones cracking when he sits up on the bed, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes like a little boy, looking around the room, a twinge of worry in his mind. Robbe was way more drunk than him yesterday, being a giggly, inebriated, lovely, messy mess that was barely standing when the party came to an end. Sander had to practically carry him to their cabin, with Robbe wrapped like a koala around his back, holding tight as he mumbled love declarations into Sander’s hair until he fell asleep, arm looped around his head and cheek resting on top of it. It was unbearably cute, but it was also a miracle Sander’s legs didn’t give out because as small as Robbe is, carrying his dead weight on his back is a challenge.

For a second, a dark scenario enters his mind, and he’s working himself up over Robbe maybe getting up at some point to throw up and being so drunk he choked in the bathroom (yes, he’s a tad dramatic), but then a scrap of paper lying on the makeshift bedside table that is his backpack catches his sight and relief washes over him. 

It’s clearly torned out from his sketchbook and he smiles before he even reaches for it.

Come and find me when you wake up x

Little hearts were added all around for good measure and then there’s another message below.

P.S. You’re so fucking hot xxxxx

Snorting, Sander thinks back to yesterday’s afternoon when he showed up to pick Robbe up with his dad’s car so they could meet everyone in Ostend. The way his jaw dropped wide open seeing his brand new look makes him feel very smug at the mere memory.

Right next to the note there’s that piece of confetti he put in Robbe’s long hair at the party, his boyfriend blushing so prettily when Sander told him he couldn’t find a flower as beautiful as him around so the confetti had to do for the time being. 

That’s Sander’s favorite activity: pulling a blush out of him with his sappy lines. Well, maybe after getting lost in their out of this world kisses. Or making love to him, slow and sweet or fast and dirty, Sander’s not picky.

5 minutes and he’s out the door after the quickest shower of his life, minty fresh and ready for a quest to find his other half. It’s still very early, the clock showing a few minutes past eight, and to be honest, Sander wonders how on earth is Robbe up and about already. He was fully preparing for a morning full of Robbe’s moans (not the good kind), cursing him for letting him drink so much and swearing on his life that he’ll never touch alcohol again.

The beach is almost empty, barely a few people lounging on the sand, and it takes him no time to spot longish brown curls flying with the force of the wind. Robbe looks lost to the world around him, sitting cross-legged and leaning back onto his arms, face turned to the sun to catch the early morning rays. A soft smile is dancing on his lips as he takes in the sight of the calm sea stretching till the horizon to the sound of whatever is playing in his headphones (probably Bowie because Robbe has a Master’s degree in his music now, courtesy of Sander Driesen) and he looks the most relaxed Sander has seen him in weeks. He looks beautiful.

And Sander is so so in love with him it hurts.

The boy must’ve sensed his presence because he turns around just when he’s a few meters away, his smile growing wide at the sight of him, squinting a little and wow, how does he look so good after a night like that? Sander wonders whether it’s his lovesick devotion that makes him see Robbe through a filter or if sleep did its job marvellously this time.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Robbe pulls at his jean jacket to sit him right next to himself and wastes no time before looping his arms around his neck, peppering his lips with good morning kisses.

“Hey, drunkie,” Sander teases once Robbe gets his fit, earning a half-hearted glare and a soft scoff.

“I was not that drunk.”

“You fell asleep on my head while I was carrying your butt to bed.”

“Well your head is very comfy,” Robbe states matter-of-factly, leaving no room for further discussion because he shuts up any snarky comment Sander may have had with another kiss. That’s a-okay with him, and he tangles his hand in Robbe’s gorgeous locks that he will worship till the day he dies, never missing an occasion to bury his fingers in the tangled strands. The other hand joins in the fun, tugging playfully at the earring he’s also a tiny bit too obsessed with and delighting in the high-pitched sound it pulls out of Robbe.

“What are you doing here so early? I thought you’d be dead to the world till at least noon.” Sander makes himself comfy in Robbe’s embrace, leaning against him and playing with Robbe’s long fingers that are resting on his stomach.

The boy huffs a quiet laugh, a warm puff of air tickling Sander’s neck. “I think it’s the sea breeze making me sober up quicker than normally,” he pauses, hand nudging lightly at Sander’s chin to make him lift his head back and meet his eyes, a soft smile on his lips as he continues. “That and also I think that I was less drunk on alcohol and more drunk on love.”

Sander may be the king of sappy lines, but Robbe has a few of his own up in his sleeve, and everytime he pulls one out, it makes him melt into a pile of goo. Sander crashes their lips together in a kiss that’s a little too heavy for a morning in a public space, but hey, they’re drunk on love and he doesn’t care, Robbe doesn’t care either, and there aren’t many people around them anyway so fuck it. He hums into the kiss, Robbe’s tongue grazing the roof of his mouth almost as by accident, and it’s so good, it always is.

“Last night, it felt so... life-changing, you know? And I don’t know why cause not that much is changing, really.”

“You’re graduating high school, it feels big.”

“Yeah, but I’m staying here for uni, I’m not moving or anything. I don’t know, I think I’ve been feeling a little nostalgic lately.” Robbe shrugs like he doesn’t really understand it, but doesn’t want to dwell on it either. There’s a small frown between his eyebrows though so Sander reaches to smooth it out with his thumb.

Then, something comes to his mind. “Maybe it’s because of us?”

Robbe’s frown gets deeper. “What do you mean?”

Sander turns around in his arms, nodding at the surroundings, voice laced with excitement. “You know this is the first time we have been at the beach since we met?”

Brown eyes blink at him in confusion, but then they light up and match Sander’s excitement.

“Oh my god, you’re right! Fuck, it feels like a different lifetime.”

A very miserable, shitty lifetime if you ask Sander. For both of them.

“I was so lonely back then,” Robbe sighs.

Sander notices a tiny shadow of sadness fogging Robbe’s eyes, like it always happens when he thinks back to that period of his life. Some wounds were cut too deep to fully heal, but Sander’s always there to bring him back to the present.

Tugging lightly on his hair to make him look back at him, Sander gives him a lopsided grin.

“Not gonna lie, I’m very pleased this time around the only person that’s allowed to kiss you is me.”

Robbe hums, a smirk brewing on his lips. “Hmm, I don’t know, I wouldn’t say no to a kiss from Jens I think.”

And Sander knows he’s doing it on purpose, absolutely loves to rile him up and play the “Jens” card when he wants to be snogged into submission. Robbe learned early on that even though Sander’s aware he’s just joking, his possessive streak always comes out in situations like this, making their kisses extra good and their sex extra hot.

“Careful now,” Sander breathes against his mouth, the pent up tension that accumulated last night and wasn’t relieved because Robbe was too drunk hitting him hard. It seems to be mutual because Robbe bites his lip seductively, impish smile letting Sander know that he’s getting the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“Or what?”

“Or I’m gonna carry you to bed the way I did last night, but the finale will be a little different.”

Suddenly, Robbe’s smile turns softer, the gear change leaving Sander a bit confused, but he welcomes it with a chuckle when Robbe snuggles close to him, nuzzling into his neck and letting out a content sigh.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs sweetly against his skin, breaking and healing Sander’s heart all at once. 

“I love you too, cutie. In elk universum.” 

A giggle erupts from Robbe at the universe line. “It’s been a while since you said that.”

Sander presses a kiss to his temple. “I think I'm feeling a bit nostalgic too.” 

***

The beach is slowly starting to fill out with people and bursting their little bubble so they get up reluctantly to the sounds of their grumbling stomachs that demand late breakfast. They notice their friends in the distance, spreading a huge blanket on the sand and carrying armfulls of food, and they walk over to them slowly, smiling goofily at each other and swaying their joined hands, paying no mind to people around. 

“Hey, Sander?” Robbe says suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna be dating a college boy now,” Robbe announces, and he sounds so proud and so adorable that Sander has to tease him a little.

He sighs, putting an extra edge of sorrow into it. “I think you’re getting too old for me, Robin.” A choked-off sound of pain follows, Robbe’s mellowy state not stopping him from jabbing his elbow in Sander’s ribs when he’s being a cheeky little shit. He should’ve known better by now - Robbe’s elbows are merciless. 

They arrive at the spot shoving each other playfully until Zoe yells at them to behave and sit their butts down like good boys to eat their food. They dig in without needing to be asked twice, their previous bickering forgotten as Robbe feeds him sandwiches, pretending they’re airplanes and making Sander and everyone around laugh hard.

This, today, yesterday, is a new memory. One that wipes away the angst he used to associate sea and beach with after enviously watching Robbe in the arms of someone else. 

This time, Robbe’s smiles are directed at him, his eyes are constantly seeking out him, hand slides surreptitiously into his hand, and Sander’s heart is bursting with happiness.

They’re going on a roadtrip this summer, just him and his favorite skater boy, and Sander cannot fucking wait. Just like he can’t wait for their future together.

And if there’s a ring sitting in his bottom drawer nobody needs to know for now. 

Robbe will find out in 55 days.

[detroitbydark]

Chapter 10

Title: Tell Me That Your Soul Lies Now

Relationship: Sev/OC/Scorch

Rating: Teen

Characters: Jessa, Sev, Scorch, Walon Vau... Every character imaginable and few that you probably didn't expect to see

Warnings: None!

Summary: Harvest Day is very busy day. The boys head home. Jessa faces some hard questions. Walon has to decide what is right for his growing clan.

A/N: 15K holy hell. Thanks your patience with this one. it was an undertaking! As always thank you to my wonderful @crimson-dxwn​ for letting me bounces ideas off of her and for her beta'ing. Thank @fractiouskat​ for being an A+ cheerleader and thank you to @royalhandmaidens​ for the greatest banner ever!

Kyr’vhetine Tuur comes on a most un-autumn like day with temperatures before the sun had fully risen already beginning to look to those of a cool summer morning. The winds had disappeared almost entirely overnight, leaving only a gentle breeze that barely kissed the nunas’ feathers

It was going to be an excellent day to celebrate the end of the growing season and the bounty of the harvest, Kal had proclaimed before the groups had split off.

Walon wasn’t one to argue the good fortune of a perfect day. He was old enough to know they didn’t come often and still young enough to appreciate it for all it was.

He pulls a deep filtered breath in while his HUD scans the surrounding tree line.

Per tradition, hunting parties had broken off at the crack of dawn in search of game. This would be one of the last good days for a hunt before the snows came and the animals disappeared into the white wonderland of northern Mandalore. It wouldn’t be prudent to attempt again until the heat of summer fell and the mothers had dropped babies and could be more easily avoided.

Rav Bralor and her boys from Yayax squad - as well as the former commander Levet - had come in the night before, much to Walon’s chagrin. Sleeping arrangements were far tighter these days with the various marriages and additional children. He’d had to put his foot down when Kal had offered his rooms up to the entirety of the Bralor clan. In compromise, Walon had allowed Rav and Levet to take up Jessa’s room and she had moved into Scorch and Sev’s while the rest of the clan piled in with the other bachelors.

Walon pretended that he didn’t know his Ad’ika had spent most nights asleep in Scorch’s bed already and simply explained that he didn’t think either commando would appreciate others sleeping in their space. She’d eagerly complied.

She was still asleep when he, Mird, Rav and Levet had gone to meet the other early risers for their hunt.

The verdant summer greens had faded first into jewel toned fallen leaves and finally crisp brown litter that spilled across the forest floor. It added a layer of difficulty that the Mando’ade found a pleasant challenge. Shatual were a finicky creature, as likely to run away from a hunter as they were to attack it. The crunch of leaves under boots was enough to solicit either response and many an unlucky Mando had found themselves enjoying the scent of bacta rather than the taste of shatual haunch after a hunt gone bad.

Each clan of the former training sergeants was represented this morning. Kal and Ordo had set off in one direction while Mereel and Corr had gone another. Rav and Levet had joined in as well. Walon, no human adiike of any ability in sight, had Mird as his hunting companion.

The strill stalks ahead through the tops of the veshuk trees, silent as death itself. The sun had yet to penetrate the forest around him and the stillness, the sheer quiet of the morning calmed him like little else could. Two days and still Fenn Shysa’s intel bothered him on a level he wasn’t familiar with.

Of course the Empire would look to make money where it could. Of course clone lives meant less now than they had to the GAR and the Republic at large.

Maybe it was the fact that they all had adiike still on the ranks - if they’d managed to survive this long - or perhaps it was the fact that they weren’t even being sold as slaves.

Walon, Kal, Rav and the rest of Cuy’val dar had raised competent soldiers, the best of the best. He himself had spouted that they were to be tools of the Grand Army, that their one purpose was fighting for the Army that in the end would give little thought to the clone -the men- they sent into battle. Now, to hear of them being sold as surplus like a decommissioned line of blasters or transports left Vau feeling sick and angry in a way that wasn’t familiar with. Righteous indignation was a state of being for Kal Skirata, but for Walon Vau it was new and uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to do with the rage simmering in his chest.

Mird chirps from his spot in the canopy above, drawing his attention back to the task at hand. He nods carefully to the strill and readjusts his sensors to pick up heat signatures through the dense brush. Not twenty yards away a flare of color through his HUD as a great shatual buck rises from its bed, shaking its head unawares of the danger that waits for it.

Over two and a half meters from top of its dark nose to the white fluff of its tail. The spread on its rack is impressive and would make a fine display on any wall. It makes a low bellowing noise, calling for any unbred females.

Walon can see the lines of Mird’s body strung tight in preparation. It’s almost time and the Mandalorian can feel the cool calm of a hunter’s mind wash over him. There is nothing else in the moment, only hunter and prey. He says his thanks to the Manda for another day of air in his lungs and another opportunity to stalk the dark forest. He doesn’t need to look at Mird any longer. They’ve been doing this since he was a teenager. The strill is ready and waiting for the signal. Walon leans back slowly against a veshuk tree and raises his slugthrower to his shoulder. Only one word leaves his mouth.

“Oya.”

The shatual turns its head in time to see its death, teeth on display bearing down on it from the trees above.

A strill with business in mind will always go for the throat. A tiny shiver of pleasure skitters down the back Walon’s neck as the creature finds its target. It’s satisfying in a way that Walon’s never been able to put into words. The shatual tries in vain to throw the smaller strill off, shaking its big neck from side to side. Strill teeth are long and sharp and Mird will not be budged, even as blood from the shatual begins to run into his eyes. Walon watches his oldest friend readjust his grip, only his back feet touch the ground as he all but hangs from his prey. The shatual makes a forlorn sound as its front legs buckle, sending him down to his front knees.

Walon levels the sight on the slug thrower as the creature turns broadside. It bellows again but it comes out wet and choked. Vau finds the sweet spot, imagining an invisible “x” over the spot he wants to hit. He pulls in a gentle breath, all thought of auctions and clones and adiike pushed aside. He squeezes the trigger on his exhale and the shatual falls silent.

————

Sev doesn’t balk when Scorch asks to make a quick pit stop in Enceri. He doesn’t bat an eye when he forgoes their usual perusal of the blaster smiths for a box of fresh pastries. He doesn’t so much as question Scorch’s motives until they get to the flower shop. Even then it’s just more of silent Sev with extra eyes burning into the back of Scorch’s head.

The words had come to Scorch easily enough, they always did. They needed to woo their intended. He didn’t like the word courting, something about it felt too old timey and proper, not like something two former commandos turned bounty hunters would do. Sev seemed to find his explanation acceptable. He was good for rolling with the punches no matter what anyone else said. He even let his like and dislikes of the various options be known in a series of very Sev-like grunts and scoffs. Scorch liked the red ones. Sev liked the pink. They split the difference and got both and jumbled them together into - what Scorch felt - was a very appealing assortment. It took almost no time and it left the former commando pleased with his previously unknown ability to romance a woman.

And then they were heading home.

The sun had barely crested over the mountains when they arrived at the airfield and performed a quick once over of the Duke. She’d require a more thorough shakedown later but today was Kyr’vhetine Tuur - Jessa and Sev’s first on Mandalore - and in Scorch’s eyes that took precedence. His heart is light and bubbly as their speeder bikes cover the ground between the airfield and Kyrimorut. Last time they’d done this he’d had a half frozen woman wrapped in his arms and now, just months later, he was plotting ways to get her back into them. Into theirs.

He knew his vod enough to know that he wasn’t fully on board with the mission as of yet. He didn’t see the odds of a favorable success and he remained open but unimpressed by the possibility of it all. That was ok. Scorch had enough hope and atin’la for the two of them.

It’s not until Kyrimorut becomes little mounds on the horizon that the jitters start. Scorch has picked up women in cantinas. He’s taken them back to small hotels or their homes. Scorch has left everyone with a smile on their face. He has never properly courted someone. It’s been ten days and he’s starting to second guess what he thought was there. Maybe Jessa didn’t feel the same pull. Maybe the kiss was a fluke.

“Shut up.” Sev’s voice growls through their comms, “you’re thinking too loud.”

Scorch says nothing.

The yard in front of the yaim is crowded with a speeder and a trio of speeder bikes. The Bralors. Scorch frowns. He really doesn’t want to do this in front of an audience.

The pair park in the usual spot and slide from their seats. The sun is bright, its rays warming the wind whipped beskar covering them. Sev’s buyce cocks to the side as he turns toward the tree line. Scorch can make out the shape of their buir from a kilometer away.

“Went hunting without me,” Sev grumbles sounding like a petulant child who’s missed dessert.

Mird takes up position next to Wal’buir and Scorch can just make out the shape between them. Impressive.

“I’m going to go lend a hand.”

Sev is gone, taking off at a brisk jog with his pack still on his back before Scorch can say anything. If he didn’t think it’d get him slotted, he’d call him a coward.

There’s nothing left to do but take the plunge. Scorch waves to Atin and a few of the boys from Yayax squad as they head out toward the livestock pens. Chores would be done in a snap today and everyone can enjoy themselves after.

His HUD takes a moment to auto adjust from the intense bright light of the sun to the dimmer interior of their home. Conn, Burr, and Kad are all playing in the main area of the house. The three boys sit around in the floor with small carved animals playing near but not exactly with one another. Three matching heads of dark hair turn when they see him, eyes widening comically as they scrabble to get up. He’s done this a thousand times now and it never gets old. He swings his pack off his shoulder and, careful to not jostle the bouquet inside, draws out a handful of colorful hard candies. The children are nearly vibrating with excitement as he doles them out. Before he can turn to the kitchen, Conn already has three in his mouth. Bes is going to kill him, he thinks with a grin.

Surprisingly the kitchen is not the hub of excitement it usually was. He glances at his chrono. They must be having a late breakfast because of the hunt. Fi and Parja are pulling pans out of the oven and Laseema is busy filling small pots for the table with different jams and butters. Kyr’vhetine Tuur meant there would be something to eat within arm’s reach all day, so it wasn’t shocking to not see the usual spread of hearty filling dishes lining the long table.

“Scorch! You made it!” It’s Fi’s voice, bright as the autumn sun. The former Omega Squad commando greets him, ambling over and giving him a quick grasp of the forearm and knock against the bucket in greeting.

“Good to be home,” he agrees, feeling disappointment begin to sink in. Parja is grinning his way. “She’s in the walk-in. She’ll be out in a-“

There’s a clatter as a tray is unceremoniously dropped on the counter and before he can turn to see he’s got his arms full. One boot falls back to brace his weight and keep him from stumbling at the onslaught. He tenses for a moment, training threatening to kick in until thin arms are wrapping around his neck and he’s got a visor full of dark hair as Jessa presses in close to his neck.

“If this is how I get welcomed home I’m leaving more often.”

Jessa’s arms around his neck squeeze tighter as he stands straight and pulls her feet off the floor. Her legs come up, knees tightening around his hips. Scorch’s hands grip her thighs because they need support. Yeah, that’s why.

“Don’t you dare.” She whispers lowly.

“Keep this up and a guy will think you missed him.”

Scorch doesn’t see the knowing look that passes between Parja and Laseema. He doesn’t hear Fi’s laughter. It’s just him and his girl and the rest of the world can kriff off.

Jessa leans back, her hands float to either side of his buyce. She stares into the T of his visor like she can see through it. The breath he’d been taking catches in his throat as she leans in and presses her forehead to his bucket.

“I missed you.” It’s so soft his buyce barely picks it up.

“Missed you too, Mesh’la.” If he didn’t have his bucket on he’d kiss her right here right now and not care who was watching. He’d push her back against the wall and he wouldn’t stop ‘til she was breathless. He doesn’t think she’d mind with the way she’s looking at him. Fett bless codpieces because his was saving his shebs from utter embarrassment.

Someone clears their throat behind them and Jessa’s pale blue eyes go wide. She wiggles against him and a small groan slips past his lips as he lets loose her legs. She untangles herself and slips to the floor, cheeks flushed crimson as she wipes at invisible creases in her pants.

Parja’s buyce cocks minutely. Scorch grins from ear to ear under the cover of his own. At Parja’s side Fi nudges her in the ribs. “How come I don’t get that kind of welcome home?”

“Bad balance.” Fi nods in understanding flushing a deep crimson as she continues. “Plus, there is that thing with my mouth-“

The former medic coughs and quickly places his hand over his riddur’s mouth. “Roger that. No need to clarify.”

Scorch reaches out, placing a hand above Jessa’s hip. When she turns he uses two gloves fingers to tip her chin up. She’s a sight for sore eyes. He wants to drag her back to the Vau side of the yaim and keep her all for himself. And Sev. Just the three of them like it was supposed to be. Only, she didn’t know that yet and they had to help her see. Her hand covers his wrist as she looks up, her skin is soft over the small strip of skin between his nerf hide gloves and where his flight suit began.

Jessa’s dark hair is pulled back into a messy top knot and she’s wearing a plain faded tunic that dips low, giving him just a peek of cleavage. She’s never looked more perfect in all the times he’s seen her.

“We brought you something.” It’s regrettable that he has to step away, he misses the contact as soon as it’s gone. He slips his pack from one shoulder and lets it slide around front. He’s careful to open it, glancing up to see her curiously eyeing him.

“It’s not going to explode is it?” The quirk at the corner of her mouth lets him know she’s joking, at least partly.

“Woman after my own heart,” he sighs dramatically. “You want fireworks? I’ll show you fireworks.”

Fi makes an ‘oof’ of pain as both his Riddur and Laseema pop him in the arm at the same time, “I didn’t say anything?!”

“You were thinking it,” Laseema says, arms crossed over her chest.

“But I didn’t say it!”

Scorch shakes his head, ignoring the audience. The bouquet is a little bedraggled, a little more worse for wear for its ride from the airfield to home. A few of the pink flowers have bent at odd angles and one of the red ones, a rose, has lost its structural integrity (and majority of its petals).

The look in Jessa’s eyes lets him know she hasn’t noticed a single one of the issues. They go wide with surprise and then crinkle at the corners as she smiles, clapping her hands together over her chest before reaching out, hand hovering just shy of the flowers.

“Scorch! They’re beautiful! And they’re for me?”

It’s a little confusing because he certainly hadn’t ever thought to bring flowers for Ordo or Atin. He nods his head and presses them into her hands.

“Pretty flowers for a pretty girl. Sev had a hand in them too.” She pulls a long slow breath in through her nose. The scent really didn’t translate through his bucket but she seems to enjoy it.

“Sev? Sev Vau?” Fi’s voice is full of confusion. “We’re talking about the same psychopath we all know and love.”

“Hush.” Parja admonishes her husband. It’s an expected reaction. Sev was known more for his kill now ask questions later, Devil may murder attitude than he was for his softer side. In fact, Scorch was beginning to think the extent of his soft side only existed in a conveniently Jessa sized space. He was good with that. Maybe it was selfish to try to force her into a space they could both be with her. They didn’t even know if she wanted this but they had already plotted out a course of action and he was loathe to change it now. It was the Vau way. Make a plan and push forward until it worked or you died. Square peg round hole? Use a det.

Jessa folds the flimsy wrapped bouquet against her chest. She takes a step forward and Scorch can’t help but admire whatever has come over her in the ten days they’ve been hunting. She grips the back of his bucket and pulls his head down and presses against his again. There’s more confidence in that one movement than he’s seen in all the months she’s been in Kyrimorut.

“We should get those in water.” Laseema’s voice is a blessed interruption from the pure drivel he was about to spout.

Jessa nods and turns toward the cupboards, searching for something. His eyes fall to the round curve of her-

“Ahem…” his eyes snap to Laseema’s skeptical face. She’s got her arms over her ample chest and he suddenly feels the eyes of the rest of the room on him. Ok so now he feels seen. Parja is unreadable under her buyce. Fi’s eyes hold humor and Scorch knows immediately that the whole homestead - and then some - is going to know about this before the day is out.

Good. Maybe that would keep the other hounds from taking to the hunt. Not that Jessa was prey or should be hunted or…

“Scorch?”

Stang. He’s been caught. Jessa’s turned back with a stoneware pitcher and the flowers he’d given her artfully placed inside.

“Mesh’la?”

“Princess.”

All eyes turn to Sev and Walon standing in the doorway. A large shatual haunch is draped over Sev’s shoulder while their buir carefully uses a cloth to clean one of his hunting knives. He’s thankfully forgotten and Jessa passes the table, depositing the makeshift vase. She doesn’t exactly leap into his arms like she had for him but she’s still more than mildly enthusiastic to see the Mandalorian in front of her.

As usual, Sev appears impassive. The slight rise in his shoulders speaks otherwise as Jessa - much smaller than the man in front of her - comes to a stop and absolutely kriffing beams at the former sharp shooter. Wal’buir stands a step behind the pair, looking on with veiled curiosity.

“I like my flowers.”

“I picked the pink ones.” It's a Sev-level simple exchange.

“You did good,” she murmurs softly.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” It’s the first time Scorch has noticed the clean linen bandage wound around her palm. Of course, it would be the first thing Sev noticed. He watches her reaction carefully. His buir watches knowingly as Jessa tries to shrug it off.

“It’s nothing really. A little cut.”

Parja is the one to speak up this time. “Jess’ika tried to take in an entire Imp garrison in Keldabe the other day.”

Behind Sev, buir scoffs. Sev seems unamused as he brushes past her and places the freshly butchered haunch on the open durasteel prep counter and moves to the sink to wash his hands. Buir glances down at her as he passes and moves to the stack of mugs and carafes of caf sitting on the table. Apparently the old barve is going to let it play out without his intervention.

Scorch hovers in space watching as Sev turns back to Jessa. She’s shortened the distance between them and he nods to her hand. It takes a moment. Jessa clutches her wrist tightly and Scorch wonders what the Fek happened. Mird trots in from parts unknown and plops down next to buir. The merc begins cleaning off equal parts blood and saliva from the strill’s mouth as if nothing were amiss.

“It wasn’t really a big deal,” Jessa says, a defense. Fi makes a sound in his throat.

“Anytime now Princess.” As if ordered from a commanding officer she takes the final steps and holds her hand out. Scorch moves to taking up post at Sev’s shoulder as his vod begins untying the wrap.

“How long?”

Their buir answers from across the room. “Three days.”

Scorch lets out a low whistle as the bandage rolls away and the bacta soaked linen is removed. It’s nasty, deep looking. With three days worth of bacta and presumed early cleansing… he works it out in his head. It had been a bad wound. Sev is stock still, holding her hand in his palm.

“What did it?”

“My knife.” There’s no waiver in her voice, she looks him in the eye, a defiant tilt to her chin.

“You mean my knife.”

Jessa mouths falls open a hair before her teeth clack together and she sets her jaw.

Sev is unmoved. “Hand it over.”

And there goes the pleasant welcome home.

There’s more pairs of eyes on them than Scorch is really pleased about. A staring contest in the kitchen was not part of the plan. It’s a war of the wills as Sev takes a step into Jessa’s space. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t react at all.

“There’s two ways this will go and I end up with the knife in both.” Sev’s rumble is a threat that is crystal clear to anyone within earshot. He holds his unwavering gloves hand palm up between them. Scorch glances at his buir and sees a single shake of his head, fall back and wait.

Jessa pauses the length of a breath. Then she presses her injured hand hard against Sev’s cuirass for support while she pulls her leg up. Scorch has to give it to her. She keeps her eyes locked with his vod’s visor. If she were jetii his brain would probably be frying by now. He wondered if that was even possible and makes a mental note to ask Bardan later if that was a Jedi brain sizzle was a thing.

With her left hand she pulls the knife from the sheath hidden in her boot. For a second he thinks she may just drop it on the floor between them. The thought seems mutual as he glances around and the few inhabitants of the kitchen are watching with unrestrained curiosity. Jessa’s thinking very loudly. He can see it in the way her movements hitch. Had he given off that many signals Sarge would have cuffed him by now.

“Ad’ika, do give the scary Commando the weapon and be done with all the posturing.”

Jessa’s eyes drop but her voice remains steely. “Yes buir.”

There’s a lot for Scorch to unpack there, but his buir doesn’t seem willing to add anything to clarify for either of his confused sons.

Jessa presses the knife handle into Sev’s open hand. Her own ball into fists as she steps away from the larger Mandalorian in front of her. Scorch’s eyes immediately fall to the painfully slow drip of blood from her injured hand as she clenches and unclenches. Her partial handprint is painted in blood on Sev’s cuirass. Laseema notices and grabs a clean cloth. Jessa’s cheeks flush red as she turns away from both of them to face Laseema.

The Twi’lek shoots both men a dirty look as she presses the cloth into Jessa’s palm. She doesn’t flinch as the older woman fusses over her quietly. He makes out a few particularly colorful Ryl words.

“Let’s go to medical and get this redressed, ok?” Laseema’s soft voice belays the fierce glare in her eyes as they focus on Sev. With a huff and a protective arm draped around Jessa’s shoulders she ushers her toward the Skirata wing and medical just beyond.

“Real nice.” It’s Parja now on the attack, arms crossed over her chest in a manner most unwelcoming. She turns to follow the other two women. Their buir sighs deeply and Sev cocks his head at the door the three have just vanished through.

“Well, that could have gone better.” Fi says what Scorch thinks only in a much less exasperated tone than his own inner dialogue. That escalated quickly. A moment’s glance to his brother shows the other Mando is just as confused with how quickly that hit FUBAR status.

Behind them Walon Vau clears his throat. “So would my di’kutla boys care to know what happened while they traipsed across the galaxy?”

———

“You’re getting spoiled and fat, Kal.”

Walon does a fair job of hiding his amusement at Rav’s assessment of their fellow Cuy’val Dar vod.

Not to have his holiday merriment karked up by the Bralor clans matriarch Kal grins and pats the fine layer of paunch, barely noticeable around his middle.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you vod’ika”

That has Walon scoffing into his glass of ti’haar. Kyr’vhetine Tuur called for day drinking and Bralor clan had brought their latest batch, a reason for a lunchtime tasting if he’d ever heard one.

For his part, Mij Gilamar does little to hide his laughter, openly laughing at the Skirata clan leader. Rav was right, as Rav usually was. Kal’s favorite rocker had moved from its home by the hearth of the karyai to a comfortable position where he could lord over the comings and goings of the day. When lunch had been served Laseema had brought a plate loaded to the brim with the best cuts of meat, juicy orchard fruit, and freshly roasted root vegetables.

Kal turns his sharp eyes to Walon, ignoring the mirth dancing in Mij’s. “Nothing to say, Walon?”

He rolls his eyes, lowering his glass from his lips. “Rav’s assessment skills have not atrophied with age.”

Rav makes a disgruntled sound. “Thank you, Walon. I think.”

Mij, quiet to this moment, picks now to speak. “He can’t exactly say anything.”

Walon can’t exactly disagree. His own belly was quite full in part to his newest acquisition. Jessa had given him a plate - while not as loaded down as Kal’s had been - that could have easily fed two commandos. And some for Mird. She’d been very clear that she’d swiped a choice soup bone and some delightful strips of fat for the strill. His pet had taken the scraps happily before he’d been offered the bone and disappeared to do whatever it was that a strill did with bones. All Walon knew is that it would never be seen again and he wouldn’t need to clean up shards of it.

Rav leans back in her chair, not a rocker but still more comfortable than any of them had grown used to over the years, she sips her drink and Walon waits for it.

“When I heard through the grapevine that you’d adopted another I was shocked. And now that I’ve seen her I’m more so.”

There it was. There was no worse gossip in the galaxy than a Mandalorian.

“I feel like I should be offended by that.”

Rav smiles. ��Take it as you will. I’m still trying to figure out the why and obviously you are not going to illuminate us with your reasoning.”

Walon crosses one leg lazily over the other as he leans back. In a small shaded area across the open yard Jessa sits happily chatting with the Skirata wives. She looks genuinely happy and that makes him feel warm… or maybe that was the ti’haar.

As if sensing eyes on her, she turns and catches his. Her smile is radiant, like sunshine brought to life.

Walon leans forward and liberates the ceramic liquor bottle from Kal’s side and tops his glass off.

“The little ad has grown on me, much like a tumor.”

Mij, never as tolerant of alcohol as his peers, chortles merrily. “Leave it to you to compare having children to cancer.”

Walon shrugs. “Have one and find out.” Mij scoffs at the idea and the group settles into a comfortable silence.

Jessa and the wives chat idly. Further past the women, the former commandos and Null ARCs are dividing up into teams on the makeshift pitch. Some words pass between one of the Bralor adike and Walon curiously watches as Scorch grips his brother's shoulder and pulls him to a stop.

Meshgeroya would be good. The lot of them needed a good match. The amount of testosterone flying around the yaim as of late was stifling. It would be good for the mass to get it out of their systems before someone had an unfortunate incident.

“Of course it would be yours, wouldn’t it?” Rav sounds about as worried about the averted skirmish as he feels. Boys would be boys and Fett clones would be Fett clones. He hadn’t met one yet that hadn’t gotten at least some of Jango’s competitive nature.

“Who’s to say my lads started it?” He raises a brow in Rav’s direction and she challengingly raises one right back.

Kal clears his throat, drawing the attention of the trio. “We’ve got to discuss the information the Mand’alor passed along at some point.”

“Din’kartay?” Mij asks, setting his now empty glass on the ground. Kal nods. His eyes follow the first snap of the match for a few moments as bodies collide and whoops and hollers rise into the air. His eyes travel over the gathered group, all four of them sharing something no other Mandalorians could - a past and a shared future in the form of their adopted children.

“Surplus auction has been moved up.”

Walon’s eye widen. “Why is this the first we’re hearing of this?”

“Just got the comm this morning, after the hunt,” The greying merc explains, “It’s a week from now.”

“A week?” Rav waves it off. “We’ve planned ops in less.” Walon wasn’t feeling the same sense of comfort as his vod. Something was coming, the proverbial other boot waiting to drop.

“We’ve got a problem.”

There it was. Of course, there was a problem. Kal doesn’t wait to ratchet up the drama of it all thankfully.

“Our intel says the boys are going to be in two separate places, troopers in a subterranean holding bay and the few commandos we're expecting are going to be a part of the main auction floor, two stories up.”

Mij frowns. “So we need a two pronged approach.”

“Which means two teams with one in the actual auction itself.” Walon sighs at the realization. “And none of the boys are exactly inconspicuous.”

Kal nods sagely. “That is the issue.” His eye wanders again and still Walon feels like he hasn’t heard the worst of it. “Bes can’t go. She’s already starting to show and we can’t put her or the baby at risk.” That is valid reasoning. Walon nods slowly. “This is a high end event. The cream of the crop.”

“So that means human…” Mij says shaking his head with disgust, “Las’ika is out.”

“Parja is Mando.” Rav says with an air of pride. “She’s not going to pass for aruetii elite even with time and training.”

This time Walon follows Kal’s eyes when they stray from the group. Jessa is sitting in the small half circle of women while the children run around and play a short distance away. She glances shyly at the commandos playing their game. The shirts have come off and while the buir’e and family could tell one from the other without any issue, to the casual observer it would be hard to seperate a Skirata from a Bralor from a Vau. Parja makes a comment and Jessa’s face flushes bright red. Her anger with Sev from earlier seems to have subsided if the way she’s staring at his shebs has anything to say about it.

“Your Jess’ika came from money.” Kal presses on, a fool’s errand. “She can play in that sandbox as well as you could-“

“No. Absolutely not.” Walon doesn’t even want the idea entertained among the group.

“She won’t be in any Imperial database. She’s got no record. Who would you have go, Walon? Send a twi’lek? Send a pregnant woman?”

“Neither, but I’d also not have my child sent as a sacrifice either.” Rav and Mij are silent. Yes, keep your mouths closed as Bu and Buhi fight, he thinks sourly.

“Doesn’t she deserve the chance to say no herself?”

“Again, absolutely not. She is so eager to please and you with your words of aliit and pats on the head would have her signing up for war before she even knew what was going on.”

“If your worries are about Sev and Scorch-“

Walon holds up a hand, “they are not my concern in this, she is. I put them through the crucible myself. They are more than capable of handling anything placed in front of them. Jess’ika is an unknown commodity-“

“We’ve all been through the ringer at one point or another but-“

Walon raises a brow. “If this is going to be a story about poor Kal the war orphan you can stow it. She has no training.”

“Walon-“

“Gentlemen?” Mij asserts easily. His ire turns from Kal to his own sons as soon as his head turns a cheer of “Oya” rises up between the teams. Sev is on top of one of Rav’s boys raining hellfire while Scorch runs his yappy mouth and does a commendable job of taking a punch from another. The rest of the pack has circled and is shouting encouragement.

“Can we not just have one nice day?” he grumbles, pushing himself to his feet.

“Cov!” Rav snaps at Yayax Squad’s former sergeant from across the open yard. His enjoyment of his brother's tussle is quickly replaced by the stark realization that their buir was on her way and she was not pleased.

Walon watches as Sev slows, giving who looked to be Jind under him, a chance to breathe. He sits back on his heels still atop the prone Mando, chest heaving. He has the decency not to smile but Walon can see the delight from the little tussle dancing in his eyes.

Scorch on the other hand, continues to run his mouth as he trades blows with Yayax’s second in command, Yover.

“And now you keep your eyes where they ought to be.”

Walon can only imagine what started all of this, but he’s very clear in who’s going to be the one to finish it.

“Six-Two!” Scorch’s momentum falters as Walon snaps irritably, “Are you nearly done?”

“Yeah buir- just- about-there..”’ Scorch punctuates the last hit, slipping a foot behind Yover’s and shoving him to the ground. “Finished.”

Walon feels a surge of pride but it is far outweighed by irritation.

“Care to explain what the thought process was for this?”

Sev reaches down and helps pull Jind to his feet. He holds back a smile as Walon glares.

“Verbal correction didn’t work so methods required escalation,” Scorch explains without getting to the actual cause of the whole skirmish. “We’re good now, right ner vod?”

Yover glares balefully from his spot on the ground before nodding assent and holding his hand out. “Apologies, sergeant Vau, we were out of line and needed a quick recalibration.”

Walon’s eyes narrow. Rav has Jind by the chin, turning his face right and left assessing the damage. His eye is already swelling but it appears as if Sev worked his middle over more than anything, really rather harmless in the grand scheme of what he was capable of. The other commando appears no worse for wear.

“You said something stupid, didn’t you?” she questions, and he offers her a lopsided grin in response. Walon watches as she cuffs the larger man, though there is no real animosity behind it. He ducks and offers a sheepish, “Sorry Buir.”

“Nothing’s broken?” Mij joins the group.

“Just my pride Doc.” Jind tries to make his glance over to the group of women casual.

For the love of Fett… Walon rolls his eyes. All of this over a woman. Jessa is looking on with unshielded concern but her eyes follow Sev and Scorch as they fall back to one another’s side

- not the boys from Yayax squad.

“Your adiike ought to be muzzled, Walon,” Rav grumbles, as they step back and the men begin to reset their game.

“Probably, but they’re a bit territorial and I can’t blame them.”

Rav glances over and sighs, “I need to get mine into Enceri. Let them meet a nice girl.”

“What is it you’re saying about my daughter, Rav?”

“She looks sweet Walon but the apple never falls far from the tree, now does it?”

Walon pauses at the thought. It’s a wonder it’s never hit him before. Rav takes his silence as permission to continue.

“So will it be Sev or Scorch?”

Mij hums as if the question has occurred to him as well. Walon curses himself for not asking it sooner.

——

“It’s over with. You can relax.” Besany means well enough sitting cross legged on the blanket the small group of women shared but it’s hard to press the nerves of what she’d just witnessed to the background.

Conn, Burr, and Kad play a short ways away, oblivious to what had just transpired. They stack sticks in a tower trying to see how high they can make it before it topples over and they dissolve into laughter. Bes was probably right. This was probably normal and she needed to relax.

Jessa runs her finger along the hand sewn seam of the blanket. Her eyes follow as the stitches flow in and out of the fabric. Parja pats her hand. Jessa looks up.

“They’re fine, see?” She inclines her head toward the game that has restarted. “Sometimes things boil over, but it’s usually nothing a few well placed punches can’t settle.

“It’s just-“

Laseema offers a gentle smile. “When you haven’t seen it before it’s a little overwhelming?”

Jessa snorts. “That’s one way to put it. Terrifying maybe?” It’s Parja’s turn to scoff.

“If Sev Vau wanted someone dead they’d be dead. And in short order at that.” She gestures to the pitch and the bodies crashing together. “That was just working out a minor disagreement.”

It’s not hard for her to find the man in question among the crowd, the four jagged scars down his back stand out pink and raised over the hard planes of muscle, stark against the deep tan of his skin. Further up she can make out a circular scar, not as extreme as the other ones but perfectly symmetric as if done with a scalpel on the back of his neck. She's curious but not enough to actually ask about it. There’s a feeling that some things were sacred. Some things you didn’t just ask questions about. Even without the scars she wouldn’t be able to miss the way he moved. Like a jungle cat, he stalks from one spot to the next. He’s solid and sleek. He’s a hunter to his very core. No one else moves like him.

Scorch is simple to find for other reasons. It’s not the smattering of burns across his chest and arms or the way his sweat soaked curls stick to his forehead. No, it’s the sheer volume of his voice. Currently he’s crowing over Corr with the ball tucked under his arm. His eyes are sparkling and Jessa follows a bead of sweat as it trails from his hairline down his temple.

Sev appears at his side and butterflies tumble over one another in an attempt to escape her stomach. The sniper nudges his brother with his shoulder and says something and then both sets of eyes look up. Caught in the act of staring, she quickly looks away.

If the other women notice the interaction, they don’t let it dissuade them from the train of conversation that has seemingly jumped off the track and gone from encouraging their young friend to commenting on some of the more enticing aspects of the men on the field.

“Why are they so pretty?” Laseema asks, tipping a bottle of Ne’tra Gal up and taking a drink. Parja holds her own up in a mock toast.

“I don’t know but you’ll never hear me complain.”

“Sometimes I find it hard to believe stronger genetic variation doesn’t exist through the whole batch.” Everyone turns toward Bes. Parja nudges Jessa in the side as if to say, wait for it.

“Literally, how can there be so many perfect shebse?”

There’s a pause and then laughter bubbles up, giggles and chuckles. For a moment they are not mothers and warriors and former slaves, they are just women enjoying the view on a nice day.

“Who has the best?” Laseema asks as the giggles die down. In unison, Bes and Parja announce Mereel as the winner.

“You could bounce a credit off of that ass.” Bes says, barely able to maintain a straight face. Jessa flushes as Laseema agrees. She really hadn’t looked but now that she allows herself to she had to admit it’s a glorious sight. They are all glorious. Stripped of armor and flight suits, of the black under armor tops they all still prefer from their days in active duty they are pristine examples of what a man could be physically.

“You could wash clothing on Levet’s abs.” Parja adds. Bes nods in agreement. And it goes like this through the various family members. Fi’s smile. Atin’s back. Corr’s thighs. Bardan’s eyes. Jessa is happy to sit back and smile, every now and again nodding as the Skirata men are ogled and rated.

“What about the Vau’s?” Bes asks after a few minutes. There’s silence. Jessa feels the prickle of irritation at the quiet until she looks up and realizes three sets of eyes are looking intently at her.

“So…” Parja asks slowly, “you're part of this game too you know.”

For a second she thinks she might just wave them off, say something about not feeling right saying *hose kind of things but Parja is right and though she’s loathe to admit it - she has been looking and not just since the armor and clothes started to get peeled off and piled neatly on the sidelines. She flashes back to this morning in the kitchen when she’d pushed out of the walk-in and seen the familiar gunmetal and yellow beskar’gam and how her wits had left her. His arms had felt so good around her, holding her close after she’d flung herself - consequences be damned - at him. Scorch is an easy answer.

“His hands.”

This seems to be an answer everyone is agreeable with. Laseema hums quietly and all eyes travel back to the field and watch the former commando of the moment. He offers a cheeky smile and wave before the ball is snapped and turns back.

“Opinions on Sev?” It’s Parja again distracting her from the game at hand. The Mandalorian woman has a sly grin on her face. What was she getting at? Of course, Jessa had opinions on Sev. The strong muscles of his arms bracketing her, his thick trunk she could lean back into… jessa takes a moment to slow the race of thoughts.

“Sev doesn’t count in this.” Bes speaks up. The tone of her voice, the dismissive way she says it raises Jessa’s hackles.

“Yes he does.”

Bes startles nearly as much as Jessa does at her own words. Of course Sev mattered. He mattered more to her than any of the Skiratas and just as much as Scorch. “Best shoulders of the bunch.” She adds primly after an awkward moment of silence.

Parja barks out a laugh and watches the next play, Sev has his arms wrapped around Atin, pulling him down to the ground and pinning him face down with an elbow pressed into his back, “ok, she’s got a point.”

Laseema nods while Bes remains red faced and quiet.

The children, Kad, Conn, and Burr offer a distraction from the awkwardness that hangs in the air. The younger two head immediately for their mother while Kad seems to take a moment contemplating which aunt suits his current needs best. Jessa yawns. She hadn’t slept well the night before with strangers just a door away and it was beginning to take a toll.

It’s all Kad needs to see. He is a headstrong child when the mood hits and he was not one to be denied. Having learned both of these things Jessa doesn’t argue as he crawls into her lap.

“Sleepy?”

He doesn’t acknowledge the question but as she’d discovered even if a child was tired they’d be loath to admit it. Kad turns his face into her shoulder and Jessa wraps her arms around him. Bes and Parja excuse themselves. Bes steers the boys toward the yaim for naps of their own and Parja makes an excuse about bringing a tray of food out for the ‘old barves’ to pick at.

Laseema lounges back onto her elbows, eyes following the game that seems to be wrapping up. Jessa isn’t entirely familiar with the rules, but it doesn’t seem like the players are really following any set guideline. More or less they’re playing for the enjoyment of it. Jessa visually checks in on her boys. Always close to one another, Scorch talks rapidly to Sev as he points to Ordo and then to Corr on the other team. Sev nods in acknowledgement at whatever plan has been made.

Kad nuzzles in closer to her chest and Jessa eases the pair of them onto the blanket to lie down. The sun is warm and it leaves her feeling drowsy and content. Kad lays his head on her arm as she rolls to watch the game. His little fingers poke and prod until her other arm is draped over him to his liking.

In the air the song birds flit, taking a break from their southerly migration. The sounds of good natured ribbing and laughing comes from the game field before her and the group of buir’e behind her.

“So which would you choose?” The question catches her off guard. “Sev or Scorch?”

Jessa doesn't speak. Her eyes follow the pair as they play. Never far apart. Working together without words as if they were of the same mind. She can’t imagine one without the other or how it must have been for both before Sev had been brought back from Kasshyk.

The thought of making a choice has never occurred to her because the thought of anything more than the simple life she’s settled into is a seed barely sprouted. She frowns at the thought. If they both wanted to pursue something then of course she’d have to choose one versus the other but It doesn’t feel right, like separating a set. How would they react? Would they be competitive? Would they fight against one another? Would it tear the family apart? She’d rather be alone the rest of her days than see her fragile new family torn apart by her choice.

“Neither.”

Laseema cocks her head questioningly. Her lek curl and uncurl in a soothing manner Jessa can pick up from the corner of her eye.

“I couldn’t choose. I wouldn’t.”

———-

During a mission, when exertion and strain and sweat were a thing, Sev didn’t mind the thin sheen of perspiration that accumulated on his skin. He ignored the beads of it at his temples and the way rivulets of it ran down his back. Afterwards though, it was different. Since Kasshyk a lot of things had been different. Things he’d never tolerated - the loud way his brother chewed for example - became almost reassuring, while things that had never concerned him - like the coating of sticky sour sweat - were intolerable.

A couple of the guys - Levet, Corr, and Mereel - join him on his journey to the locker room after the match. He’d give it to Skirata, this place, their home, had all the bells and whistles. Everything he could want was here. Had he not just needed a quick wash down in the locker room he could have slipped off to the smaller bathroom shared between the twin bedrooms in his clan’s wing of the yaim. But no, the blood pumping and friendly competition had him feeling nostalgic. Locker room it was.

It takes him only a few minutes longer than the others to clean off, an extra few seconds of scrubbing with the mild soap that had followed them since their days on Kamino, while the others joked and laughed. Feeling clean made his bones settle, made them feel less like they wanted to rattle out of his skin.

Levet says something and Sev turns his attention. “Hmm?”

Levet has a towel slung low around his hips while he uses another to scrub at his damp hair. “You gotta excuse the boys. About earlier,” he says.

Sev thinks to tell him he didn’t have to do a kriffing thing, but this was Commander Tactful and even after his service to the GAR had ended, he was still trying to do what he’d always been good at.

Sev doesn’t need defusing. He wasn’t about to go off. He just needed the Yayax boys to understand that the Princess was a hands off, eyes to yourself affair. Levet tosses him a towel as Sev turns the water off. He catches it with one hand and bringings it directly to his face to rub residual droplets from his eyes.

Without the gloves Sev can hear the servos in Corr’s prosthetics whir as the younger clone dries himself off. “Sev is a little protective over his vod’ika,” the former trooper cracks.

That wasn’t quite what he was trying to make clear. He huffs into the towel. Is that really what it looked like to everyone?

“It’s understandable,” Levet agrees, “hear she’s been through a lot. There’s a lot of people who would take advantage of that; my boys aren’t them though.”

Mereel, who’s been quietly pulling clothes back on makes a discontent sound. “Seems to me if someone wanted to court the dal, they ought to make their intentions known the old fashioned way. You know, put it on public record.”

Sev can feel the Null ARC’s eyes on him. “You planning on making that move?” There’s a chill in the questions he doesn’t make any attempt to hide.

With the exception of the slow drip of water from the recently cut off shower heads, the room has gone quiet. Mereel stops where he stands, shirt halfway up his arms but not yet over his head. It’s an interesting time to realize Scorch isn't here to have his back if the sudden tension in the air ignites into something more.

“Are you?” It’s Corr’s smart mouth, he’s got a smile sliding across his face. “Because I was thinking I might stand a chance.”

In unison Sev and Mereel throw damp towels in his direction. He catches one easily with one prosthetic hand, the second - a half second behind - barely misses smacking him wetly in the face.

“Come on, really? Do you see this?” Corr turns to Levet motioning up and down his body with durasteel digits. “I could pull a woman like that.”

Levet, always level-headed and prudent doesn’t even favor him with a grin, “No, vod’ika you couldn’t.”

Mereel gives Corr a hearty pat on the back. “We can’t all be me. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable woman out there for you.”

“Gee thanks, vod.” He makes to sound irritated but Sev can see the smile lines forming at the corners of his eyes. The little bastard was still good diffusing a situation and he’s both irritated and grateful. He didn’t need a three on one but he also had no further intel on what was going on in the karking Null ARCs head.

Sev layers a fresh set of blacks under loose pants and a tunic. He collects his armor in a neat stack. No one else was putting there’s back on and he was going to take the opportunity to try without for once. He knew he’d likely wind up back in it before supper. Armor wasn’t just physical, it was mental as well.

He tries to tell himself that it’s got nothing to do with Jessa, but really it has everything to do with her. And what happened earlier. He follows Levet, Mereel, and Corr from the locker room but when they hang a right to head back outside he takes a sharp left toward his buir’s karyai. He waves off Levet’s curious over the shoulder glance. The others don’t attempt to wait or question.

It should probably sting, but it doesn’t. The Skiratas and Bralors were family but Sev only cared about two- three other people (and a mangy strill) when it came right down to it. Those were the opinions that mattered.

And he had karked up one of them. Or so he’d been told.

He heads straight toward the room he and Scorch shared, directly to the small desk that went mostly unused now that they’d set up shop in the armory. Jessa’s knife - his knife - his buir’s knife sat gleaming on the top, nearly sparkling against the dull grain of the wood, as innocuous as a honed blade of its caliber could be.

Maybe he should have gotten the story from her first. Maybe, as Scorch had suggested afterwards, it would be better to handle these things behind closed doors in the future. The thing is he hadn’t, and it wouldn’t have changed that he was going to take it back.

He was fracking impressed by the sheer gett’se it must have taken to stand up to a fully armored Mandalorian staring her down. She’d had fire in her eyes. It was like he could see her trying to decide what nice cozy intercostal space she could seat the knife in. For aruteii, it was fekking nehutyc. That still hadn’t meant the blade she was going to shank him with was hers.

It had always been too big. He knew the first time she’d held it to his throat - he swallows hard at the memory - that it didn’t fit well in her far smaller hands. He knew it was ungainly for her and awkward to wield but he hadn’t ever really meant for her to be in a position to use it. It was supposed to be a security blanket, something to pacify a terrified girl, but like everything else she’d surprised him. It wasn’t just standing toe to toe with him this morning. Wal’buir had told him what had happened in Keldabe. Before Mird had gotten help she’d been about to take on two fully trained Imperial troopers. Jessa was a smart girl and to Sev that meant she knew what she was getting into and not getting out of. The thought both set his teeth on edge and his kad to stiffening.

“Fekking Skirata.” Like his buir, Sev found it easy to blame the feisty old merc for everyday problems.

He grasps the handle and flips it in his grip. It was still a solid weapon, just not what she needed. He could fix that. Next time there was a blade between them she wouldn’t look at him like he’d done her wrong. Sev didn’t mind the anger and murder in her eyes but he didn’t ever want to see that look of betrayal again. He didn’t want to ever feel like it was her against him unless her life was on the line. He slips the blade into the sheath at his hip. It wiggles more than he liked but he didn’t intend on having it on him for long.

As he’s leaving, he catches a splash of forest green tucked under the covers of Scorch’s bed. He grabs the scarf without a second thought and folds it carefully as he heads out.

——

Parja’s in the kitchen. It’s nice because he hadn’t wanted to go looking. He hadn’t wanted to need to find an excuse to pull her away from the other women, or worse, her gossipy riduur. He knows the Mandalorian woman enough that if he could convince her it was important she’d keep things quiet. Fi, not so much.

She’s stacking a tray high with tidbits of cheese, meat, tiny pickled peppers, and bits of bread. His stomach growls and Parja’s head shoots to him.

“I’m gonna put a kriffing bell on you,” she curses quietly, narrowing her eyes. He didn’t have time for her ire, nor did he have the patience.

“I need you to do something for me.”

“After that stunt you pulled today? You’re lucky I don’t run you through myself.”

He tries to keep his lips from pulling back, he really does. He succeeds partly. Parja is undeterred by the silent snarl.

“You know she’s been a mess with the pair of you chakaar gone? You know she hasn’t been sleeping since Keldabe? You wouldn't know, because the first thing she gets out of you, Sev Vau, is nothing but trouble.” She’s pissed. He knows this because she’s gotten close and is using her index finger to jab an exclamation on each of her final words dead center of his chest. He probably deserves it.

“Can you do something for her then?” he questions. Parja takes a step back, sizes him up, then crosses her arms over her chest.

“What is it?”

Sev pulls the knife from its spot at his hip. Parja’s wide eyes move from the blade to its handler and back. He spins it in his hand, presenting the handle like one would a peace offering.

“I need you to make this work for her. I thought maybe - maybe you could make it into two.”

Parja takes the offered weapon. She studies it with the eye of a craftsperson and the tactical experience of a Mandalorian. Sev waits patiently. Somewhere outside someone is laughing obscenely loud, Mij Gilamar by the sound of it. “So-“

“You know I’m no armorer, no blade smith either?”

“You’re family and I trust you.” He waits again. She’s searching his face. After a moment she nods slowly. He hopes she’s found what she needed.

“Just tell me one thing.”

“Shoot.”

“Don’t tempt me.” There’s a hint of humor pulling at the corner of her mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Say again.” Obviously he was commissioning her to make a set of blades. It really couldn’t be much more straightforward than that-

Parja rolls her eyes, humor once again gone. “Are you and Scorch courting her together or separately? And don’t think you can put me off or lie to me, Sev Vau.”

By Fett, he hated that word - courting - it sounded so… he just didn’t like it. He really didn’t want to have to go all the way to Keldabe to have this done, so he swallows down any apprehension and nods. “Together.”

“Good. Now let me get a few ideas from you.”

——

She sleeps light and dreamless in the spill of warm sunshine. Kad nestles close to her as she shelters his little body with her own, his small hands cling to the front of her tunic. She can hear the occasional voice of someone passing nearby, of footsteps approaching stopping and then continuing on. Months ago she’d have stiffened and been on edge. She’d never have freely offered her back to danger, but now it was different. Everything was.

Kad stirs as a familiar pair of boots scuffs closer.

“Ba’vodu…

“Udessi…” Jessa soothes, quietly trying to coax the child into just a few more minutes of blissful cuddles, “I’m right here.”

He wiggles in her grip, a giggle rising up. “Ba’vodu! Boom!”

Jessa rolls to her back bringing Kad with her. He’s off her chest and half stumbling to still-shirtless Scorch’s waiting arms.

“Boom! Boom!”

Scorch hoists the giggling child into the air. Kad squeals with delight as he’s easily caught. “Yeah, verd’ika, there’ll be some big ones tonight. I promise.”

It’s an ‘oh’ moment, a split second where Jessa realizes as many times as she’s seen the other men around her toting the kids around it’s never looked so attractive as Scorch doing it.

“Ba’vodu Mesh’la!” Kad whines and Jessa cocks her head as if she’s not entirely sure what she’s heard.

“I taught him that. You can thank me later.”

It takes a moment to realize what he’s said, and when her brain finally plays catch-up she feels her cheeks flush.

“I eat food now?” Kad is unconcerned with what is playing out as he pokes at his uncle until the bounty hunter has had enough and pretends to drop him to the ground. He catches him an inch before he hits the ground and Kad acts like it is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him.

Another family member, Bardan, calls his name and he’s off like a shot the second his feet hit the ground without a single look back. It must be nice to be a child without a worry in the world.

Jessa pushes up, resting back on her outstretched hands. She can count on one hand the amount of times she’d seen him out of beskar, the amount of times in this state of undress less than that.

The matte grey of his pauldrons had only served to highlight how broad his shoulders truly were, and now without the added cover she can get a good impression of the muscles that moved down from those shoulders. Biceps and forearms defined by his work lead to the hands she’d mentioned earlier. He flexes his arm. Jessa’s eyes snap back to his. Caught. Scorch grins from ear to ear.

“Did you have a good nap?”

Jessa nods. The sun still has her feeling drowsy and content. “Wasn’t ready to be done with it,” she admits. He drops down to his knees and then flops lazily at her side.

“I’m not Kad, but I’ll offer myself up as a cuddle buddy.” He holds one arm up, inviting her into his personal space like the night she’d had a nightmare and he’d held her until she’d fallen asleep.

A soft breeze blows cool against her exposed skin. Goosebumps rise to the surface. Jessa slides next to Scorch. It’s out of necessity, she tells herself. He’s a human furnace, suiting his name, and she was going to use that to enjoy the last bit of time she would get outside sans layer upon layer of clothing. His arm braces behind her back as she leans into his side.

“You fit good there,” he notes. Jessa says nothing. She feels good this close to him. The light scent of sweat and salt radiates from him.

“You stink,” she murmurs quietly.

“You like my stink,” he hums back. He doesn’t exactly smell bad and she doesn’t argue. She’d spent too many nights with her arms around one of his pillows, buried under his covers to deny what he said.

“What were you fighting about with Yover?” She watches him from the corner of her eye. Scorch looks out across the field, seemingly staring into nothing. There’s a boyish smirk plastered across his face that makes Jessa think all sorts of things, not least of which is what his lips might feel like if he kissed her again.

“Nothing you need worry about.”

Thankfully he’s good at chasing away her soft, reckless thought. It’s not the answer she wants and he laughs at her irritated growl. “If you keep making that sound how are people supposed to tell you and Sev’ika apart?”

She can think of a few ways, but keeps them to herself. She rolls away, putting a shred of distance between them so she can turn to look at him fully. She missed him - them - so much. Scorch opens his mouth as if to say something and then shuts it suddenly. It’s not like him. With a puff of air past his lips he flips onto his back, draping an arm over his eyes.

Given the opportunity, Jessa seizes it. She lets her eyes rove now that he’s not watching. From his arms to his broad chest and tapered waist there is a light smattering of scars. None are particularly deep with the exception of a few to his forearms.

“I can feel you staring.” Brown eyes peek out from under his arm. “Something you like, Mesh’la?”

“You’ve got a lot of scars,” she notes, gaze not wavering from its exploration. Now that she’s begun she can’t find it in her to stop.

“Ah yes, my marks of personality.”

“Marks of…” She offers him a confused expression.

“Buir- Sarge back then, always said scars gave you personality. He helped shape our inherent charm. Have you seen Atin’s face? Vod has tons of personality.”

“Where did this scar come from?” Jessa reaches out and touches the slick looking slice on his flank. Goosebumps rise up under her fingers. A quick glance at his face shows nothing amiss.

“Sev has this great trick for slotting Trandoshans he picked up from the old man”

“But why do you have a scar?” She’s sure that her mind shouldn’t go where his words were leading it. Sev would never- well at least not Scorch, she thinks realistically.

“Spicy dreams.”

Jessa jerks. Scorch’s arm tightens around her. Sev blocks the sun from shining on the pair as he towers over the two.

“Aww Sev, was that a joke? I knew ya had it in ya.” Scorch sits up and Jessa follows, crossing her legs neatly as she does. Scorch eyes her. There must be something akin to the growing horror she was feeling painting her face because he tries to explain more.

“Sev doesn’t like to be woken from his beauty sleep.” As if to accentuate it, the man in question makes a lazy wave at his face as if to say ‘see’?

“I need every bit I can get.”

Undeterred by the look she is wearing, Scorch encourages her to stand up, giddiness and glee coloring his tone like a small child excited to show off a prized rock or funny shaped stick it had found.

“Show her!” Scorch nudges her gently until she has no choice but to stand with a roll of her eyes. “It’s a great trick.”

Sev rolls his eyes back but motions for her to stand in front of him. She’s still angry about this morning but her sense of curiosity is getting the better of her. Sev hesitates as if he knows he’s still not in her good graces but it lasts only a second before he pulls her close and spins her around. It’s a familiar position, the line of his body pressed against her back. They’ve done this once before and she flushes at the thought now of how vulnerable she’d been in the locker room and how Sev had taken care of her then.

“You ever deal with a lizard?” Sev’s voice is gruff. Jessa nods. Transdoshans made excellent slavers. Two had held her still while a fat fingered Gamorrean had branded her after she’d been bought. She presses back into Sev, seeking more of the heat he transferred without the layer of beskar between them.

“They got these… what do you call them?” He looks to Scorch.

“Plastron?”

“Like the belly of a lily turtle?” Jessa asks. “Mother kept them in the water garden.” A strange look crosses Scorch’s face as he nods at her explanation.

“Yeah, Princess, like a turtle,” Sev murmurs, reminding her how close he was. “So they’ve got these plastron across their bellies and the rest of their bodies have these thick scales that do a damn good job of blocking most sharp pointy things.” Sev’s hand comes to rest at her waist just back slightly, his thumb pressing into a spot above where she knew her kidney to sit. “Except right here, where the plastron and scales connect there is a soft spot.”

To emphasize the point, Sev presses his first two fingers into her flesh. Jessa winces and he lightens his touch enough to take the edge of the discomfort off.

“The trick Buir taught us is you’ve got to adjust your grip accordingly so when you get the chance-“ his fingers press forward, sliding along her side til they reach her belly, “you can spill their guts.”

The way he lets them sit there for a minute before he steps away makes her tummy flutter. She’s glad for the separation. Jessa folds herself faintly back into a seated position.

Curious eyes watch from afar. Jessa feels them acutely and glances past Sev. Ordo Skirata is not being covert. He holds eye contact for a second before moving on, one of his young sons clinging to his leg.

“Wonder what Ord’ika is up to?” Scorch says, more to himself than anyone.

“Better be minding his own damn business.” Sev’s voice is a reassuring growl as he flanks her other side.

——-

His belly is full of spicy skewered nerf and deliciously fatty bits of shatual. Sev has never been one to search for a buzz in the bottom of a bottle like some of his vode (Scorch included), but a bottle of sweet Ne’tra gal dangles lazily between his fingers. The abnormal heat from earlier in the day has bled away to an appropriately crisp autumn evening as the sun set an hour before. It felt good.

He alternates between staring up to the cloudless expanse of sky and taking the occasional pull from the bottle in his hand, allowing himself a moment or two to enjoy the sweet barley and hops of traditionally brewed ale. Unfettered by the light pollution of the larger Mandalorian cities to the south, the stars shine like gemstones above. It wouldn’t last long. Fireworks were coming next - Scorch had already kriffed off with Corr for last minute preparations. They’d be lucky if Doc wasn’t working on a new prosthetic by morning with those two at work.

After fireworks the kids would be shuffled off to bed and - so he was told - the real party would start. It sounded like a big excuse to drink too much and do something incredibly stupid by an open flame. Probably would be fun. He still wasn’t sure about the whole thing. He’d been through a few celebrations since being brought to Kyrimorut, but this was his first fall and Scorch had been doing his best for months to talk it up and try to get Sev as excited as he was.

He’d seen lots of things blow up in his life. From one side of the shabla galaxy to the other, he’d seen enough to consider himself an expert of sorts.

Jessa lies in the grass by his side. Her eyes are fixed on the sky above. She’s been quiet since she laid down next to him. It was wrong. She usually said something. Anything. Most times he’d have no fault in the silence, but all around them people were talking and laughing and they were just there. Being weird. Somehow he thinks it’s probably residual from this morning. He sighs heavily. Blue eyes flash out of the corner but then focus back above.

“You looking at the stars?”

Jessa makes a soft hum of agreement.

“Kriff…” he curses lowly, turning toward her, “You still mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad.” And Palpatine was a well loved public figure.

“You were,” he asserts, “You looked like you were ready to slot me”

“I would never.” She finally turns, fixing him with eyes that affirm his previous assertion.

“But you wanted to.”

She sighs, rolling onto her side and tucking an arm under her head. In the growing dark with her hair spilling around her she is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. It’s taken a while, but he’s finally willing to admit that attraction.

“Too much beskar,” she states bluntly, “Besides, I’d miss you if you were dead.” There’s a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. Sev feels a strange pull in his chest somewhere between asphyxiation and taking a barely controlled ascent down a fast line.

Her smile drops away. “Sev?”

“Yeah Princess?”

“If you ever do something like that again? In front of the rest of the family? I will do it.”

The bark of laughter that leaves him has heads turning all around them. Curious and concerned eyes fall on the pair. Jessa’s eyes narrow. That feeling in his chest intensifies. She looks like a pissed off loth cat waiting to attack. Fekking gorgeous.

“Roger that, Princess. I won’t even fight back.”

She softens visibly, pushing herself into a seated position only a hairs breadth away from him.

“Good.”

With that settled, the pair turn their eyes back up to the darkening sky. The silence doesn’t feel weird anymore with the issue between them blasted to dust.

Sev feels content in the moment.

The sound of the first mortar being released into the air catches his attention. The light of the small explosion comes just a few beats after in the form of neon red that lights the sky. It’s impressive. More follow at regular intervals, different colors and sizes, sounds and shapes. Like burning flowers in the night sky they flash to life only to die a few moments later. The smell of explosives rolls like a fog from the launch point to the onlookers.

Sev glances around and finds the small children staring transfixed as the fireworks erupt into life, their tiny mouths cracked in o’s of delight. He tries to remember the first time he ever saw anything explode or heard a bomb and he can’t quite place how old he must have been. He’d been fascinated, but not nearly as much as Scorch had. Scorch had been obsessed. No one loved blowing something up as much as his vod.

The next mortar explodes with all the force of a sonic boom and Sev finally notices Jessa’s stiff posture next to him, the way she twitches when each firework ignites.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine.” The words rush out of her mouth in a way that lets him know she’s not.

“You don’t need to be scared.”

Her head swings around. “I’m not-“ A pair of twin explosions follow each other in rapid succession and she nearly comes out of her skin. Sev remembers watching another squad when they were just tiny cadets, the way they had all crowded in around a vod who obviously was having issues with the sounds, pressing in until their pod mate had calmed.

“Come here.” He motions to the spot in front of him. Jessa shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she lies again.

Sev huffs. Did she not see that he knew? Stubborn dal. He should let her stew in her own fear. That would teach her, but then he’d have to listen to a lecture from Scorch and he hated when he got lectured. Before the next can go off he leans over, closing the paltry distance between them and loops his arm around her waist. She squeaks as he pulls her effortlessly into his lap, spreading his legs and tucking her into the spot between them. She struggles for a second. He notices, not for the first time, the she never curses, not in Mando’a nor in Basic. He thinks if she did she would be right now. She squirms against him and he regrets not putting armor back on.

“Stop wiggling,” he grunts into her ear. She stills and Sev takes the opportunity to wind an arm around her and pull her tight against him. Sev doesn’t see the eyes that have followed them or the way other members of the homestead lean in to whisper to one another because Jessa is relaxing back into his grip, melding with him and his brain isn’t sure what to do. The next volley of decorative ordinance pop and she barely twitches. The purple shimmer of rhydonium paints her features in a soft glow as it fizzles out of existence.

He holds her tighter and by the round after she doesn’t move at all. Her head rocks back and rests against his shoulder. He can feel the heat of her all along the front of his body and his mind travels to places it hasn’t in ages.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she murmurs.

“If you say you were fine, I swear-“

“They kept the barracks near whatever tunnel we were working in at that time,” she begins.

Sev nods. This was a Kappa Black thing. He should have known.

“We worked in shifts. You had to try to sleep while they were blowing through the asteroid around you.”

It made sense. If you’d seen any amount of osik the galaxy had to offer you weren’t likely to leave it all behind.

“Odds are you're not gonna get blown up here.”

“How do you shut it off so easily?” She twists, glancing up at him.

“Turn off what?”

“The fear.”

Sev stops. He’s never really dwelled on it. “I don’t turn it off. I focus it. Fear is a tool.” He recites an early lesson. “It’s a blade. You either use it on your quarry or you use it on yourself. Never been much on killing myself.”

Jessa goes quiet, thoughtful. She wiggles in closer as reds and greens and blues light up the sky in front of her.

“Cold?” It seems like the right thing to say. Sev had seen a holomovie once on a stakeout that reminded him of this. He’d had to read lips because he’d been perched in a Corrie window watching it from his scope in a building two over. He got the gist of it though. Romantic osik that made him want to gag on the warra nuts he’d smuggled along. Now though it doesn’t feel nearly as unrealistic as he’d thought back then.

“Maybe a little.”

From the cargo pocket of his tac pants Sev retrieves her scarf, the same one she’d left on Scorch’s bed earlier. It’s not easy to unfurl it one handed, but he manages and drapes it over the front of them. She makes a soft sound, a sigh of contentment as she burrows under the fabric.

“Better?”

“Perfect.”

——

If the flames of the bonfire grow any higher, Walon is sure they’ll be able to see it from Keldabe. Not that you could tell any of the celebrating adiike that. No, drums and Bes’bev and various stringed instruments of unknown origin had been pulled out and now not only was their fire and drink but also music to go with it all.

Rav is beating out a rhythm on her bucket next to Atin, using a hide covered drum of his own making. The rest of the Bralors take turns on the winds and strings. Fi chortles out a bawdy song about a twi’lek dancer and the battalion of troopers that had loved her. Walon can make out the words “seduced by her lekku of love” before uproarious laughter drowns him out. Off to the side, Laseema rubs tears from her eyes barely able to control her laughter.

“They don’t work like that vod!” She manages to get out between giggles.

“Atin?” Someone asks. The former Commando in question offers a toothy grin but says nothing. Walon rolls his eyes. He’d like to think his adiike were better behaved, but Scorch is taking shots of ti’haar with Corr in celebration of a pyrotechnic display gone well. Sev, while not drinking like his vod is encouraging it.

“You gonna let a trooper get one up on you?”

Jessa is pressed shoulder to shoulder between the pair. Her cheeks are flushed with life and she looks happier than he’s ever seen as she fidgets with the thick braid of hair draped over her shoulder. Corr offers her a shot and she takes it like one of the Commandos. She barely flinches. Mandokarla indeed.

Even slightly inebriated himself, Walon can see Scorch’s keen gaze watch her like a mother nuna. Sev’s is more fixed on Corr. A pair of guard massiffs if he's ever seen them.

No, Walon didn’t need to worry about her overdoing it with Sev and Scorch present. Likely, he should be more concerned of their safety should they need to cut her off. The murderous look she’d given his sharpshooter this morning spoke volumes of the personality that was starting to bloom.

“Vau.” His musings are painfully disrupted by the shorter merc easing himself into a sitting position next to him.

“Skirata,” Walon greets.

“We need to talk about earlier.”

Like an obnoxious fly buzzing about, Walon tries to ignore him. Still, Kal’s eyes continue to bore into the side of his skull until, like a fly he cannot help but give him his full, irritated attention.

“You’re trying to ruin my Kyr’vhetine, aren’t you?”

Kal gives him a bemused smile that slips quickly into something more serious. Yes, he was going to ruin it.

Walon’s eyes drift to his children. The makeshift band has begun to play a song the is unmistakably Ryl. It’s heavy drum lead beat and accompanying strings lends itself for dance and Laseema throws her head back and laughs from her spot near Parja.

“Am I being called out?” She asks the group of musicians. There’s an uproarious cheer as she sets her drink down and pushes up off the makeshift log bench. “Fine then.”

Walon watches her bunch her tunic in her hand, tying the loose fabric just above her hip. Blue skin peeks out as she extends her hands at her sides and begins to dance.

Traditional Ryl dancing is almost impossible to look away from. The movements are fluid and driven by the rhythm of the music being played, steady drum beats with a mixture of plucked and strummed strings.

It’s not merely a dance but a delicate balancing act played between the musicians and the dancer. Laseema knows this game better than many he’s seen. Her hips shimmy and roll with the beat as she steps delicately about the circle of aliit. There’s cheers and hoots from the crowd and the smile that graces her face is radiant. Like so many others she had blossomed and truly begun to thrive in Kyrimorut. He was sure no small amount of that was in part to Atin. While he’d taken the Skirata name, Walon had quietly patted himself on the back for creating the man and survivor he was today.

“The auction…” Kal begins and Walon sighs deeply. From his spot at its Master’s foot, Mird glances up, tongue nearly too large for its mouth lolling out to the side. It’s warm by the fire but the strill is loathe to be anywhere Walon isn’t.

“The auction,” Walon agrees. The thought gives him a headache. A year ago he had just become reacquainted with the idea of having an ad and now here he was with three healthy, somewhat adjusted adiike. He was loathe to upset the newly formed balance, but he knew somewhere deep in his gut - as he didn’t trust his dead heart on such matters - that they needed to be part of whatever was set to happen. Each of the Cuy’val Dar sitting around the fire had trained multiple squads and so few were accounted for outside of those that had already been known to have marched on. If there were others they deserved a chance and their buir'e deserved a chance to give it to them.

Kal seems to understand he’s finally got his attention. When he speaks it’s not of someone trying to convince a friend in a fool's errand but instead a hardened mercenary beginning to plan for an op.

“We’ve got so little time to prepare. The lads will do fine but-“

Walon holds a hand up, “I know. I know.” His gaze travels over to how newest acquisition. Laseema is pulling the giggling girl to her feet while Scorch eggs her on. Sev watches with his hands on his knees. He appears relaxed, laconic, but Walon knows what lies beneath - always alert and on guard.

Laseema slows her movements, working her hips in a tight figure eight and Jessa imitates. It’s uncoordinated at first, but with each rotation she seems to sync into the music a little more, so Laseema shows her another step and then another. Parja joins the fray with absolutely no rhythm but shereshoy that cannot be argued with.

“You can’t deny that she’s our only option.”

“I never said I did.” Walon watches as Mereel enters the small fray of dancers and pulls Laseema close. Fi slides in and grabs his wife. He’s just as off rhythm as she, but they both seem oblivious to anything but one another. Jessa spins happily, the green scarf tied in a triangle at her hips twirls out like the layers of a skirt and Walon can imagine her being spun around a dance floor in another life. She’s happy and content and what is about to come could very well ruin that but she’d do it. He knew that in the same way he knew Scorch would spring to his feet the second one of Yayax squad attempted to move in her direction. Honestly, it’s astounding it takes as long as it does but after the correction earlier maybe it’s not too shocking. It’s Cov this time who gets two steps to near before Scorch is sliding in between the Yayax squad leader and the girl. Jessa only seems to see Scorch, beaming up at him as he slips in behind her.

Walon raises a brow. He hadn’t expected either of his lads to move like that.

“Sev and Scorch are not going to like this, I take?”

Walon chuckles. “I don’t imagine, but they also know their place and what an op like this means. They can give their hormones a backseat long enough to get the job done.”

“That’s going to be a mess when they work that out between them.”

From her spot pressed against Scorch’s chest Jessa finds Sev. He’s nursing another drink, only the second of the night by Walon’s assessment. She reaches out, palm up and curling her finger. Sev raises a brow and shakes his head, the ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as Jessa sticks out her lower lip and pouts. Someone shouts about making her the filling in a commando sandwich. Kal chokes, coughing violently into his drink.

Walon’s never known Sev to willingly do something commonly perceived as fun and dancing… he imagined it would be a cold day on the plains before he’d see his Ad’ika do that.

“I don’t doubt they’ll work it out in a way all their own.”

“That’s what I worry about.”

From the corner of his eyes, Walon studies the Skirata patriarch. He considered (if only to himself) him a friend for a few years now - since Mygeeto at very least - but there was a time when he’d have happily put his fist through the other man’s orbital bone if given the chance. Sometimes he still said things that made Walon’s old arthritic knuckles ache in anticipation.

“They’re not yours to worry on. I feel you have enough without adding my adiike to your plate.”

Kal hums and Walon knows this will not be the last time he will have this conversation. The song being played ends as he’s thinking of the inevitable irritation of having to repeat himself.

“Jessa.” The girl turns her head at her buir’s sharp call of her name. Scorch’s hands tense where they rest at her hips, but she shimmies out of the bounty hunter's grip.

“Yes, buir?” The musicians are mumbling amongst themselves about what to play next.

“Naberrie Waltz.”

Confusion flitz across her face, settling along with the crinkles between her eyes.

Walon is undeterred. “Do you remember it?” Jessa nods once and Walon rises to his weary feet. Scorch hover protectively behind her. With an irritated flick of the wrist Walon shoos him away.

“Show me the waltz.”

“But the music isn’t-“

“I’m aware, Ad’ika. I’m sure your parents spent large sums of money teaching you how to do things that didn’t always fit what you wanted at the time. Has their money gone to waste?”

A bemused look crosses her face as Walon offers a hand. It’s been a long time since he’s waltzed. Far longer than his new daughter has probably been alive but the steps come back as if it was just yesterday as a light hand on her waist guides her in a slow turn. He knows eyes are on them. He can see the flash of mirth in the eyes of the other Cuy’val Dar but that is none of his concern. Jessa’s spine is straight, her head, carriage uniformly perfect. Even though the song is all wrong she doesn’t miss a step. She slipped into it as easily as he feared she would. She could do what Kal was asking, maybe not perfect but she could figure out how to play the part. He glances down and catches her wondering eyes.

“Very good, Ad’ika. Very good.”

She smiles at the praise and allows him to continue to spin her around. Sev and Scorch’s looming shadows stand at the edge of the circle. Those two weren’t going to like what was to come one bit.

———

aglist: @bylightofdawn​ @leias-left-hair-bun​ @skdubbs​ @passionofthesith​ @haloangel391​ @fractiouskat @peacelandbread​ @clonewarslover55​ @cherry-cokes-world​ @nelba​ @jedi-mando @shadylightbearherring @poppunkdee @iamassbuttkingofhell

@royalhandmaidens @wolfswing @generic-geek-girl @captainrexwouldnever @kesskirata @ahhrenata @apathetic-catastrophie

Mando’a translation

Kyr’vhetine Tuur- harvest day (one of four Mando holidays @crimson and I dreamed up)

Mando’ade- sons and daughters of Mandalore

Adiike-children

Riddur- spouse

Din’kartay: sit-rep, or sharing of information/planning

Gett’se- balls

Nehutyc- gutsy (also feisty)

[bubblewrapjogja]

Ö88ᑫ•8585•౩8Ö8 (WA) Bubble Wrap Cara Bacanya Bubble Wrap Bubble Wrap

Harga plastik gelembung kulon progo bubble wrap 1000mm x 100m jual plastik gelembung kulon progo bubble wrap adalah grosir babel wrap wonosari jual babel wrap jogja bubble wrap untuk makanan bubble wrap hitam. Bubble wrap aluminium foil pabrik bubble wrap bantul bubble wrap terbuat dari apa bubble wrap dekat sini harga plastik gelembung jogja jual plastik bubble jogja. Toko babel wrap jogja bubble wrap gulungan bubble wrap 1m bubble wrap 100m beli bubble wrap bantul toko plastik gelembung .

[annerly-san]

Progression - [Chapter 2: Limits]

Primary Character Pairing: Choso x Reader/Female OC Story Summary: Life is never stagnant. It progresses and changes as does the people who live through it. Like a complex differential equation, it twists and curves with its ups and downs with each person having their own unique curve. But for her, the rate at which she progressed in life was zero as she moved linearly despairingly with no end in sight. That was until she met a cursed spirit who set her life back in progression. Chapter Navigation: Previous Chapter

“He said that we could test out our new forms, didn’t he, Nii-san?” The flesh-colored curse spoke this time. “As long as we bring her back alive, right?” It sighed. “I’m not too keen on hurting her since we weren’t told to do so.”

While the sentience of the curses surprised her, the sentiment that they expressed bewildered her slightly. It was strange for a curse to not only not bear open hostility against sorcerers such as herself, but it was also strange for the curse to express itself in a sentient way with some resemblance of human emotion.

“Don’t worry, Eso. We won’t have to as long as she comes along with us willingly,” the human one answered.

“Nii-San, Nii-San, I want to play with her, Choso-nii~,” the turquoise one whined as he looked towards the one named, ‘Choso’, with as much emotion the strange curse could emote with his features.

“Be careful, Kechizu. She’s supposedly a Grade 2 sorcerer. Eso and I will be here if you need us.”

At the command, the turquoise curse launched itself at her and she immediately activated Differential and applied a derivative to the constant speed at which the curse was traveling to freeze him in place.

“E-eh? Nii-san, I’m frozen!” Despite that, the curse then bubbled up something within its mouth and she instinctively moved to evade the onslaught of blood splatter that was spewed her way.

The splatter of red fluid on the ground oozed with a strange pungency. It was potentially corrosive or poisonous, and she elected that it would serve her best interest to avoid it at the moment.

Her hand gripped at the pocket at her side and fingers found the touch of cool metal clinkering softly within its pouch.

Grasping at the wrapped handle, she pulled out an interlocking series of metal links and a pair of throwing knives.

While the other two curses stood a ways back from the turquoise one that had charged at her initially, this situation was dynamic and a confrontation between all four individuals was bound to happen.

A sudden strike of red pierced the ground at her feet just where she had been standing moments harkened the intervention of the second curse.

“Kechizu, are you alright?” the disfigured flesh-colored one had gotten to the turquoise curse and was in the process of helping him become unstuck.

“Uuuu-, Eso-nii, I’m stuckkkk-. Oh wait, I’m not anymore-”

The three seemed to share a familial bond considering their constant reference to one another as brothers from what she had observed so far. While the question of curse relationships may prove insightful for identification and research, she was more preoccupied with the present state of the battle in front of her.

Kechizu-- the turquoise one-- as he was called, was stuck in place due to her derivative. He would remain as such until she released the technique, and she wasn’t intending on doing that anytime soon. The curse seemed to be the weakest of the trio with the range of abilities involving spewing what seemed to be corrosive blood from his mouth.

Eso -- the disfigured flesh colored one-- seemed to be significantly stronger in terms of his ability and mobility. The launching strikes that he seemed to fling from wing-like lattices on his back were incredibly more precise and potent than that of his younger brother.

Both he and Kechizu were out of her range now that she had stepped back to evade that initial attack; slight remorse at not applying a derivative on him to hinder his movement simmered in the back of her mind.

Though that was not her main concern.

Her main concern was the eldest brother of the group, Choso. The most human looking one of the bunch and the most calm. He had been standing back in observation and she could tell at this distance that he had the most cursed energy of the three. His intervention would be detrimental to her chances at victory in this fight.

The curses began to speak.

“It looks like what he had said was right. Her abilities are primarily stopping things in place,” she heard the eldest brother muse from afar.

‘Stopping things in place?’

Her ability was more nuanced than that; however, that comment in addition to the earlier one on her rank as a second-grade rather than a semi-first grade showed that the three had an outdated source of information.

This was advantageous for her.

Though the lack of information regarding her ability did set her ahead slightly, she was still at the overall disadvantage of having three special-grade curses in front of her in addition to not knowing what the extent of their techniques and abilities are.

Her limits needed consideration.

Differential’s effective range was five meters with the technique of stopping the rate of movement being instinctual and without thought. Her maximum application of Differential is five concurrent techniques, though the time limit on her holding the skill was contingent upon the complexity of the change she wanted accomplished.

The cool touch of the weapons in her hands helped to lay out the framework of her next attack. They were two sets of rather simple cursed tools that worked in tandem to accommodate her lack of effective technique range. The first was a nine-section whip chain that enabled the extension of her effective Differential range at its furthest swing point when she applies cursed energy through it; the second was a set of two throwing knives which have the ability to store and apply a user’s cursed techniques regardless of the range.

She set herself up.

Leaping backwards to set a fair distance between herself and the curses, she quickly flung the two throwing knives before applying Derivative to temporarily freeze them in its trajectory. Quickly prepping, she moved forward with her chain swinging at a constantly increasing rate and subtly applied Differential to it as she approached the curses.

The sudden change in hostility and engagement from her end caused all three curses to shift in their demeanor.

The turquoise one, Kechizu, was readying himself to launch at her. Perfect.

The second one, Eso, had a wing-like lattice of bloodwork spewing from his back-- no doubt ready to launch and pierce at her at a given time.

The last one was concerning. While he had stood quietly on the sidelines in observation prior, he now stood with his arms extended and his hands clapped together. From this distance, she saw small spheres of what also seemed to be blood.

A tense silence fell between them as each one of them observed one another like a hawk.

She quickly sidestepped and dashed back.

As anticipated, Kechizu launched himself at her and she waited for him to fall within anticipated trajectory before adjusting the derivative on one of her throwing knives from zero to a hundred kilometers per second. The knife pierced the side of the curse and he let out a bellowing cry as he was frozen in midair.

“KECHIZU!” the curse’s name was simultaneously cried out by the other two.

Eso, the ones sprouting the wings, launched a barrage of his blood at her while she dodged and evaded its path.

The swing of her chain allowed for her to subtly slow the rate of the pursing wings, but the collision of the chain against the blood lattice caused the liquid to burst from its form and splatter everywhere. Droplets got onto her skin as she felt it burn at her flesh. Quickly wiping it away with the sleeve of her shirt before ripping the garment and tossing it aside, she dodged three more wing lattices that had been sent her way.

The eldest brother was in her peripheral vision; he stood in the same stance, though he had been positioning himself to face her as she moved.

Eso had closed the distance between the two of them sufficiently and she began to sidestep back to where she had hoped to lure him to in order to send the second knife at him.

As soon as he stepped in the appropriate spot, she started to adjust the rate of the throwing knife when a sudden voice made her stop dead in her tracks.

“Piercing blood.”

Too fast.

She barely registered the bullet of blood that had been shot her way and a sharp pain blossomed in her right shoulder.

The attack and injury led to stumbling as she clumsily dodged a few more of Eso’s attacks before successfully managing to put some distance between herself and the other two curses.

The injury throbbed and an immense pain was struck in her nerves as it burned in radiating waves across her right side.

“I’m sure that you realize that our blood is poisonous by now.” Choso, having remained impassive up until now, had stepped up to his younger brother and glanced to the side to see if his youngest one was doing alright.

The turquoise curse had stopped screaming and had long since healed the dagger wound, but was frozen in place with the knife stuck and embedded in his side.

“Nii-san, I’m stuck…” the curse whined sadly as he flailed his limbs around in the air.

“I know. Are you healed? Does it hurt?”

“No… doesn’t hurt…”

The two older brothers seemed relieved by the state of their younger one.

“That knife might be a problem, Nii-san.” Eso spoke up as he glanced at his older brother. “While it might not do much in terms of immediate damage, if it hits, we’re going to be left susceptible.”

Choso nodded. His response was too quiet and low for her to hear, but it was difficult to concentrate on their words with the amount of pain erupting from the wound on her shoulder.

She had four applications of Differential left at her disposal. Undoing the one on the youngest curse would not be in her best interest, and she felt bitter at having gotten so severely injured without making further progress on the two stronger curses.

The rate at which the poison, pain, and injury spreads will need to stop here. Grabbing the throwing knife from the air, she undid the Differential applied to it and applied it to the rate of her injury’s progression before it got any worse. The pain was still present, but it was tolerable for now.

Three Differentials left.

She stood back up much to the two brothers’ surprise and began to swing the chain around.

Considering what was shown thus far, the brothers have the ability to launch and manipulate poisonous blood with the precision, accuracy, and speed of the two differing with the age gap between them.

She took her stance.

The battle will have to move to closer combat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mahito had said that the girl wouldn’t be too much of an issue to bring back since all three brothers were going on this simple mission.

From what was known about her and how it was explained, the essence of her ability seemed to be stopping things in place much like Satoru Gojo’s Infinity. It made sense for an ability that was a derivative of the main Gojo technique.

Choso narrowed his eyes at the sorcerer in front of him— sight wandering from the quickly rotating chain in her left hand, to the throwing knives in her right, and finally to her stance — guarded and ready to attack at a given moment.

“Nii-san, the poison doesn’t seem to be affecting her too much. I didn’t hear anything about poison resistance from those curses,” Eso commented to him in a low voice.

“It seems that our information was outdated. Her abilities are that of a first-grade sorcerer at the very least.”

The knives were bothering him.

When she had thrown them earlier, it wasn’t going nearly as fast as it did when it hit Kechizu. It was faster.

The realization of her ability clicked for him.

“Eso…” he muttered lowly to his brother. “She can change the speed of things.”

“Changing the speed-?”

“She’s able to stop the speed of things moving like she did with those knives and Kechizu, but she’s also able to make things move faster and slower too.”

Considering how fast Eso had launched his wing king attack, she wouldn’t have been able to evade that easily unless she was also capable of slowing the blood down as it approached her.

“She’s approaching her limit though. Considering that Kechizu is still stuck in place, she’s using a good amount of effort in maintaining that,” Choso began to say aloud. “She’s also probably slowing the speed at which the poison in our blood is spreading. That’s why she’s not kneeling over completely yet.”

He looked over at Kechizu who had given up on flailing around and simply hung in mid-air with a strange contentment to him. Choso sighed. His hands clasped together to activate Convergence as the drop of blood condensed to its limit and was prepared to instantaneously fly at his command.

He took a few steps forward.

“We’re here to bring you back with us. If you want to continue this little fight, then by all means.” Choso didn’t care too much for engaging in a fight with the sorcerer, but given how the four of them started off their initial interactions, it most likely can’t be avoided at this point. Kechizu was fine at the moment, but he wasn’t keen on putting either one of his brothers at risk of injury if he could help it. He felt Eso take a similar stance beside him.

“I don’t think you gave me a choice in this to begin with.” The response was soft spoken, but held a tenacious tone.

The air between them was tense as both sides awaited the other’s move.

It broke with the chain throw.

The spinning metal chain came launching at Eso and Choso with great speed and it took a significant amount of effort and luck to avoid the barreling weapon.

Choso evaded and looked back at the sorcerer.

She was gone.

His eyes widened as the intense presence of cursed energy swelled and manifested behind him.

“Sh-“

A hard blow hit him against the arms as a strong, swift kick came at his way. He had barely the chance to throw up his arms to block, but it came in the nick of time.

Choso was sent flying a ways back.

His body throbbed with a strange resonating pain. He had no time to glare at the sorcerer as she immediately came to hurl a barrage of blows at him with a speed he wasn’t able to process fully.

Blood rushed in his ears as he instinctively moved to manipulate the blood contained in his body.

Flowing Red Scale: Stack.

The enhancement of his senses and physical strength enabled him to parry her to the best of his ability, though she landed several hits on him.

Choso winced.

They were reinforced with cursed energy and the original kick sent his way had injured his arm to a certain extent. She was wearing some sort of metal shin guard — the armor had given an extra layer of damage.

Eso had been using his Wing King attacks— careful as to not hit Choso, but she was moving much too quickly for either one of them to land a hit in.

‘She’s using her ability to increase her speed,’ Choso noted. He was pushing Flowing Red Scale to its limit as well with him barely keeping up with her to avoid any lethal blows. ‘I doubt that she can keep this up much longer with keeping Kechizu in place and preventing the poison from her wounds from seeping too much.’

Eso was on the offensive with his long-ranged Wing King attacks while Choso kept her occupied in physical combat with his Flowing Red Scale.

It was a war of attrition. This would be won by both Choso and Eso in the end. They would outlast her. In terms of cursed energy, they were incomparable as special grade curses, and in terms of overall advantage, they outnumbered her.

She would lose this war of stamina and endurance.

Choso blocked another punch and jumped back to avoid the sweep kick she sent.

Eso touched down on the ground and a barrage of the blood lattice was sent their way.

A defining moment.

Choso locked eyes with her as he raised his arms defensively to block and parry her incoming blows. Eso’s blood was hurdling her way and he needed to keep her occupied with him just a moment more so that Eso would land the hit or cause a distraction that would allow Choso to gain the upper hand.

His eyes bore intently into her own as he watched the world around him still to a halt.

He blinked.

And blinked again.

Everything was frozen.

“CHOSO-NII!!!”

Kechizu’s scream sounded out in his frozen world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had thought that the curses had solely long to mid-range attacks. Considering the blood lattice and the blood bullet that was sent her way early on in the fight, she figured that a close range combat would take her opponents off guard and turn the tides of the battle in her favor.

Flinging the chain was the first distraction. The rate of its spin and hurtle were increased as she discarded the weapon to favor a more personal close-quarter combat with her knife and fists. The long weapon would only risk more blood spilling to poison and corrode at her.

Differential activated on her body as she rushed forward. Pushing herself to accelerate at the fastest rate her body can feasibly handle, she managed to get behind the most troublesome curse and sent a strong kick his way.

Channeling her cursed energy into the blow, she let out an irritated sigh as he had managed to get his arms up in time to block it.

She dodged the blood lattice springing her way and leapt forward and accelerated once more.

The metal braces that she wore on her forearms and shins were heavy, though they came to pay off in instances such as this.

Momentum.

While the initial startup of running, throwing a punch, or kicking was slow due to the weight of the metal, it allowed for acceleration and her adjustment of it to make things unbelievably fast.

She wondered if she had picked the right curse to go after a few exchanges of blows.

The strange black stripe on the curses’s nose had transformed into a line with arrows at the end and a vertical deviation that ran up to the curse’s eyes. He was adept at close-combat.

Another blood lattice blow was evaded as she continued to bombard the humanoid curse in front of her with punches and kicks.

He dodged again and the realization that this would be a race of endurance became abundantly clear to her. If it became as such, this would be a battle that she would definitely lose.

The flesh-colored curse behind her was on a constant barrage of blood.

She decided that he was the more pressing threat.

But she doubted that the one in front of her would allow for her to switch targets so easily. The versatility of his combat range had surprised her, but it was a given that she would instantly lose the battle if he were to send one of those blood bullets at her again. She doubt that she can catch the orb in time to apply Differential and she wouldn’t be able to maintain a constant radius of the ability with her usage of it on so many things at the moment.

She needed to take his attention away.

The first time she realized the extent of her ability application was when she had overheard a conversation at the engineering department on a mission to eliminate a curse at a college in the city.

“You know why engineering, math, and physics is so hard? It’s because we’re trying to find a way to describe the natural world using equations! Everything can be described by some equation. Some of them are easy, others are hard. And it’s precisely for that reason that we’re needed in the world.” It was an engineering professor at the university talking to his colleague.

She liked the Professor.

Coming up to him later once the mission was done and reported, he had welcomed her into the lecture hall under the impression that she was a high schooler exploring the various majors and fields for college later on down the road. It was a fair assumption as she had just begun as a first year student at Tokyo Tech.

“We can’t truly ever find a completely perfect equation for everything in the world, Gojo-Chan.” She had tailed after him once his Differential Equations class had ended. “But we use these equations to model what actually happens in order to understand and control the things that would seemingly be out of our hands.”

She could see equations and numbers everywhere after that.

And with that, her ability blossomed as an entire realm of possibility was opened to her.

While the perception of vision is a complex system of the light’s reflection in the eye, transmission through the optic nerve, and processing in the brain, she could model the eye’s rate of perception as constant.

The rate at which you see is constant.

She took the derivative of that.

The humanoid curse froze in anticipation for a blow that would never come. His world would appear frozen. And that was exactly what she needed.

Taking away his eyesight, reducing the rate of perception in his eyes to zero, she quickly spun around and bolted towards the flesh-colored curse with the blood lattice wings.

His eyes widened in surprise at her sudden change in course, but was quick to gather himself back into an defensive stance rather than his previous offensive one.

Though it wouldn’t matter much.

The throwing knife was in her hand and she would hurl it at him as a distraction.

He would know what the risk of getting hit by the knife entailed with how his younger brother had gotten frozen in place.

It flung forward with a trajectory aiming at his right side.

He moved left to dodge just as she anticipated.

The opening gave her a means to act upon her true intent.

Hovering equations and constants floated in front of her eyes as she honed in on the specific rate she wanted to adjust. It was crucial to select the appropriate one.

A linear equation by the stomach of the curse caught her eye.

Considering the variables in the split second it took for her to reach out with a hand and touch him, she knew it was the correct one.

It was the equation that governed his progression as a manifested curse.

The derivative of the equation was shown to her as she changed the rate of manifestation into a negative value— driving the curse back in time to his unmanifested form.

A fetal form was revealed to her, and she came to the dreadful realization that the object was one of the special grade objects— a Cursed Womb: Death Painting. The school had these in their possessions as objects which could not be destroyed due to their properties as special grade objects. Chills ran down her spine as she carefully clutched it in her hands. These must have been stolen. She gulped. The context of the situation was more severe than she had originally thought.

A piercing scream rang out— interrupting her stupor.

It was the curse that was frozen in place.

The hairs on her arms rose as her senses rang amok to signal impending danger. In a panic, she dashed forward and ducked as the humanoid curse rapidly gathered particles of blood and began firing them in haphazard directions.

Many were far off.

But relief at their miss was short-lived as the moment they drew close, they exploded into a million smaller pieces.

She couldn’t count how many had hit her as excruciatingly painful stings of the blood resonated throughout her body.

Her concentration dropped.

Differential disappeared.

Consequences emerged from the aftermath.

The humanoid curse blinked several times as he regained his sight.

The turquoise one fell to the ground with a soft thud.

Her wounds began to flow and the effects of the poison began to seep into her from the outside in.

Fortunately, the curse she had unmanifested remained as such for reasons unknown to her.

Her eyes were blurry and a high pitched ringing was deafening her ears. Somehow, she was on the ground. The world spun about her disorientingly.

A large blur of white and black was approaching her, but she was unsure as to where it was.

It was most likely that humanoid curse.

All of her Differential was off now, and her cursed energy was almost negligible.

She can try for one more.

As the curse approached, she squinted and breathed deeply.

Seven meters.

Six meters.

Five meters.

He was in range.

Equations and constants bombarded her senses again as she hastily tried to find a similar linear equation stuck near the center of the curse’s body.

Eyes widening slightly as she caught the blurred image of one, she quickly applied Differential and took its derivative.

The rate of the equation was changed to a large negative value, but she could not manage to hold onto her technique for much longer than she had.

Differential dissipated and she heard a small thump by her legs.

She couldn’t check to see if it worked.

The ringing in her ears were so loud. The world spinning around so quick was making her nauseous. The pain in her body was hot, scorching, and throbbing with an overwhelming intensity.

Weights bore down on her body as she drowned in a surrealistic trance of what was happening around her.

If this was it for her, then she hoped that acknowledgement of this biased situation would be considered before her corpse would be burned and forgotten as though she never mattered in the first place.

A low aching in her chest and a bitterness in her mouth were the last things she felt before it all went cold and dark.

[alexandenigtscreations]

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Warnings: Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel

summary: 

Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev make a good team. But when a bank job goes horribly wrong, the injured pair are forced to lay low and hope the Carte Blanche can make it back to them in time.

Part 1

It wasn’t cheap, executing the heist of the century that is.  It wasn’t cheap to maintain their transportation or stock up on supplies, it wasn’t cheap to acquire insider information and it wasn't cheap to run a series of operations set as mere preamble for the Cure Mother Prime heist.  If the rumors were true, it would be well worth the trouble.  

It wasn’t cheap, so that’s how they found themselves in the heart of Galactic Stars First Bank, hacking into the on sight servers to relieve the institution of surplus creds.  

The whole affair had gone smoothly, down to Rita’s ‘Juno proof black box’.  The instrument allowed them to disarm the electronic security system with ease and extract the necessary information from the database.  It also sported Rita’s flare for the dramatic by making absurdly cheerful chirping sounds when connecting and completing commands.  

Juno was pacing behind him, restless as ever.  Keeping an eye out for the security.  

“Isn’t that damned thing done yet?  We’ve been here too long.” and he continued his anxious treed across the floor.  Back and forth, back and forth.  

Nureyev gave a non-committal hum.  “Careful not trip dear.  This space is cramped enough as it is.”  A long finger probed the screen of the black box, he wished Rita had thought to install some sort of progress bar-  

Juno had been particularly…. vocal… . about the myriad of concerns that drew his keen eye.  What Vespa might affectionately refer to as his whining .  He gets like this on big jobs.  Nureyev had become skilled at half listening to Juno when he got like this.  Flagging important information and letting the vague grumbling slip into obscurity.  They all have their different coping styles, who is he to deprive the one he loves of theirs?

“And what’s that supposed too- Ahhh!” there was a loud clatter and some cursing.

Nureyev didn’t even turn “I did try to warn you.”

“Ransom-” his voice took on a cautionary note.

“Another minute Detective,” the box had given a warning chirp signifying it was nearing the end of records.  He did not want to withdraw prematurely “the download hasn’t been completed yet.”

“Did Buddy say anything about booby traps?”

The lights danced across the black box, “What?  Oh, no.  There was nothing on the schematics to suggest their presence.”  he went back to monitoring the download, just as his mind sorted this question into the important category.  “Why do you ask?”

“I think I found a floor switch-”

“A floor-” he turned looking down and saw a tile recessed into the otherwise flush floor.  The chamber filled with a hissing sound.  Could it be gas? It was clear, they had to leave.  Now.

They were too far away from the door, some hundred meters away, which meant the vents-  A good thief always had multiple escape routes after all, even in a building like this-  He could see all the possible roots, outlined in red in his mind’s map.  The stares were no longer an option and the elevator shaft would be to risky which left-

“Juno, head for the center vent on your right!” he instructed, hurriedly disconnecting the black box from the server.  He hoped it had enough time to store the data- it had to be enough.

“On it!” Juno sprinted ahead, sliding on his knees to the vent pulling out his plasma cutter and making a few rushed incisions.  Not a moment too soon.  Panels were sliding open on the walls, small tubes slid out of the orifices.  A great ticking sound filled the corridor, getting faster and faster.  Juno glanced side to side then back at Nureyev “Ransom?” he voiced as the ticking reached a fever pitch.  The first flash of color slid across his vision, pining off the tile opposite.  “Ransom, Get down!”

But there was no time!

Juno rushed, flattening him to the floor as the air was infused with cyan blue feathers, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, protecting his face.

“Juno! I-” he panted, having the wind knocked out of him. His detective wasn’t paying attention though.  

“How the Hell, did we not know about this!”  he was shouting over the sound of ricocheting metal.

“Love-” Nureyev said as soon as he could breathe again, “The vent-”

“Yeah.” He rolled off, keeping low and belly crawling through the opening, Nureyev on his heels.  He took a moment to snag a few of the projectiles before receding into the security of the air ducts.  

“Are you alright?” Juno asked over his shoulder.  

Nureyev took quick stock, everything seemed to be intact and there weren’t any unwanted punctures-  That was a stroke of luck.

“Quite, thanks to you.”  He gave an affectionate squeeze to an ankle “and you?”

“Gonna need more than a few technicolored darts to take me down.” he said cheekily “Like a master thief who memorized the map to this god damned maze.  Mind sliping ahead?”

“Well, it’s going to be a tight squeeze, but, I know you don’t mind Detective.”

“Save it, Ransom.  We gotta keep moving.” Juno was right of course.  

“All work and no play is dreadfully dull love.” Nureyev pouted, but couldn’t resist a nip at Juno’s colar as he shimmied past.  Sharp teeth grazing warm skin- he was rewarded with a delightfully flustered expression.  Some of the tension easing from Juno’s shoulders.  Which was good, because he wasn’t going to like the next part at all.  Sure enough, he screamed all the down the shoot.  So much for stealth-

With Nureyev up front, they moved swiftly.  Even with Juno grumbling about giving a lady a little warning.  The vents were mercifully free of traps, but that didn’t mean that the floors they darted across were safe.  Juno took out guards and drones with a few well aimed stuned shots.  

“My Detective, you’re getting quite good at that.” he grinded, with a sly glance through his lashes before disappearing.  

His voice crackled with warmth “Less talk, more cut- Hey, wait for me!”  

Nureyev loved this.  Loved this test of strength, endurance and whits.  The thrill of the escape was intoxicating.  Above all, he loved the company.  He was acutely aware of Juno’s presence at his side, the sound of his breath, the shifting of his limbs, the glances of him between floors, coat tails twirling as he set up for the next shot and the brief moments their eyes met.  He loved what a team they were.  

By the time they got to the ground floor, Juno was breathing hard, his hands slipping on the slick metallic surface.  His grumbling had gotten more intense with every floor dropped, his aim more... unsure.  Fatigue, no doubt.  He wasn’t as accustomed to navigating crawl spaces as Nureyev.  The vents seemed to have treated him rougher than anticipated, poor dear.

Unfortunately, Nureyev couldn’t focus on that now.  No doubt the security would know how they were moving from floor to floor by now.  The building was in full lock down mode, if the red pulsating light was anything to go by.  Sure enough, as soon as they punched through their last grate, a guard shouted into their coms, their blaster trembling in novice hands.  

It was another stroke of luck.

Nureyev dove forwards, latching on to their wrist while they were locked in indecision and twisted the arm up behind their back in a flourish.  “Juno!”

A shot was fired, the guard slumped bonelessly to the ground.  Nureyev relieved their blaster of the laser cartridge and the corridor filled with the reverberations of many, many footsteps.  

“Aw Hell!  How many of them are there?!” Juno griped.  “This wasn’t what we were told to prepare for!”  he shouted to no one in particular.  That was true.  If all had gone according to plan then, there shouldn’t  have been more than two guards per floor-  Even with tripping the alarms, there shouldn't be this many people in the building at this hour!  The bank seemed to be overcompensating for- for something .

“Cover me.” Nureyev said, darting towards the door.  Using his own blaster to incapacitate one unlucky employee of the Galactic Stars First Bank.  The weapon set to stun, to satisfy his lady’s- sensibilities.  

Juno swore loudly behind him, making his insides flip in excitement? Nerves? he couldn’t say- then all he could hear was the air sizzle with blaster fire.  In one smooth motion he extracted the black box from a pocket and connected it to the doors panel.  There was nothing to do but wait for it to do it’s work, to set them free.  Moments like these were his least favorite parts of a mission.  

The seconds ticked by and Nureyev’s excitement gave way to a writhing bubbling mass of anxiety.  He couldn’t shake the idea of being cornered, pinned down like a butterfly in a glass case.  Waiting for a little black box to decide whether or not they were getting out of the building.  

He glanced back at Juno, his back to him, framed in the brilliant flash of blaster fire, like the goddess he was.  A reminder that he had someone to rely on.  They were a team.

The next thing he knew the black box was chirping cheerfully and the door slid open.  

“Juno!” he called, unclipping a few pepper smoke bombs from his chest.  

“R-Right!” he called, hot on his heels.  

They took the steps two at a time, bursting into the open night air, twin moons flooding the city with light.  Harder to hide but but there were plenty of shadows to slip into and the security would also have to deal with night blindness.  It may be enough for them to get away.  

Nureyev tossed the peper smoke bombs into the bank as they fled.  There were shouts and a string of desperate coughs.  The red light illuminating the miasma pouring from the open door turning it into a hellish portal.  

They ran towards the city streets, trying to put as much distance between them and their pursuers as possible.  Juno’s stride, normally a steady pound, was growing fainter.  For the second time that day he heard a cry from behind and a skidding thud.  

Nureyev’s insides twisted.  Turning to see Juno sprawled out on the cobblestones and a red thread of light trained on his back.  A few security guards had made it out, the farthest from the door had their pistol drawn, at the ready.  

Changing direction seemingly mid air, Nureyev sprang back, unceremoniously yanking Juno to his feet by his collar as the first shots were fired.  

He couldn’t help the cry that tore out of his throat, as the seering white pain slid it’s way across his leg, knocking him into Juno.  The man stiffened, bracing him as best he could, concern on his lips-  Now wasn’t the time, the ground sparked with blaster fire.  

“This way-” Nureyev rasped, pulling the detective to the nearest ally way out of the line of fire.  A timer set in his mind, counting down the minutes and seconds before he would really start feeling the wound.  It felt-bad-  Not even a minute fresh and he was already forced to favor that leg.  But he knew he had time before the pain truly kicked in.

Till then- well- they needed to put as much distance between themselves and their pursuers as possible.

“You’re hurt!” Juno gasped, barely keeping pace to Nureyev’s long legged strides as they transitioned from a full sprint to slipping from shadow to shadow.  

“Not- ideal-” Nureyev affirmed through gritted teeth; regretting that his studies hadn’t been as deliberate with the city plans as the building.  They were already off his planned routes.  What's more, the pain was starting to scramble his internal navigation system.  He could just detect the signs of the chase.  

One thought came back over and over again, ‘too slow, too slow, too slow too-’

Whether it was luck or the pepper smoke bombs or the pair’s stealth; they managed to put some distance between themselves and the bank.  Juno was lagging worse than ever, calling out Ransom with a growing sense of urgency.  It was too hard to focus on that though, between the pain in his leg and that dogged need to push onwards, to escape- to-

“Ransom!  Goddamnit- I need a break!” there was something in the way his voice tore that stopped Nureyev in his tracks.  He turned to find Juno sagging against shipping crates, wrapping an arm around his middle and sucking down great gulps of air.

“We need to- to keep moving.” Nureyev said, unable to keep the strain from his voice.  “We can rest later- Detective.”

“Jus- just a minute-” Juno puffed, closing his eye and leaning over.  Nureyev hobbled closer, noting the exhausted lines on his beautiful face and the sheen of sweat.  Apparently, he needed this- Juno wouldn’t ask otherwise- and the fact he did ask was- significant.

“Fine- but only a minute love-” he reached up to cup his cheek, feeling the heat roll off his flushed skin.  That was new.  He moved in closer feeling his concern deepen before he knocked his leg into a crate.  Nureyev hissed in pain.  The pulse of the burn cutting through him with every breath, every step, every-

“Christ Ransom- your leg-” Juno drew nearer, drawing the hem of Nureyev’s coat back to get a better look, but there wasn’t time for that.

“Nothing a good skin graft and laser treatment wont mend-” he gave a tight lip smile.  Juno looked like he was going to say something more, but was mercifully cut off by a call from their coms.

“Pete, Juno, this is Buddy, report.”

“Captain-” Nureyev greated “We’ve downloaded most of the financial files and managed to escape the facility but-” he took a steadying breath, trying to maintain his composure.  “We’re having some trouble dodging the security.”

“Ransoms hurt.” Juno added.

“A scratch.” Nureyev dismissed.  There wasn’t anything to be done at the moment.  

“You were hit by a goddamned blaster sh- ahh-!” his knees seemed to cave and Juno caught himself on the crates.  His eye closed tightly once more as he focused on breathing.  His expression twisting into something sharper- heavier.  

Something was very, very wrong-  

“Juno-” The anxiety was back, constricting his chest, threatening to overtake him as he floundered- then Buddy’s voice cut through.

“Pete’s hurt?”

Fold it away.  Nureyev told himself.  You won't be any use to him if you lose your head!

“It will have to wait till we get to the ship, Captain.” he said truthfully.  

There was a long pause before “Think you can make it to the rendezvous point?” her voice was clipped, almost- distracted.  Like something wasn’t going according to plan.  

“Yes- we should be able to Captain.” he said, breathing deep against the building throbs of pain in his thigh, threatening to paralyze his hip.  He wasn’t about to let Buddy Auranko down because of a scratch.  “Is there something we need to know?  Captain?”

“Hold up your end of the bargain and we’ll do the same Pete.”

Nureyev closed his eyes and nodded “A fair arrangement Captain.”

“Excellent, keep us apprised of your situation dears.  Buddy out.”

Nureyev exchanged a look with Juno.  “Well that was-”

“Odd.” Juno cut in, brows crinkling with puzzlement in that way Nureyev loved.  

“I was going to say interesting but the point still stands.”

Juno opened his mouth, clearly wanting to discuss the exchange more when snatches of conversation drifted their way.  Nureyev hushed him with a hand finger to lips, Juno picked up right away.  He couldn’t hear much but they were throwing around words like capture and shoot, it was clear who they were.  Nureyev hummed disdainfully and Juno’s hand found his own and squeezed.  It wasn’t wise to stay in one spot too long, they had to keep moving.  

“Time to go-” he grasped the Detective's hand, they had to run, they had to get out of- he moved and agony forced his leg to buckle.

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