#Stupid thing is that I didn't want to draw him without his helmet

[seenfull]

Regarding the racer guy: I love him so much and I do know a little about F1 so I could offer some ideas?

Since not all riders are the same height/weight (naturally) they add weight plates to the cars of the lighter riders to make it fair. Additionally they get weighed in before and after the race. It's also normal for them to loose a few kgs in sweat during the race especially in warmer climates.

So: how about the racer guy not being the tallest on the grid (maybe even one of the shorter guys) so he started with a decent amount of additional weight plates in his car but as the season drags on, his team can remove them one by one as he is climbing the ranks regarding his weight. Maybe his team colleague (always 2 drivers per team) starts to notice the change too and sees a chance to be the star of the team so he feeds him extra donuts whenever he can.

The race suits are usually pretty snug as well and lined with fire resistant fabric so they're not very flexible. Him growing out of them over the span of a few races is actually quite realistic.

May I also add: they usually wear team shirts around the paddock and for press conferences (excluding Lewis bcs he's extra like that) so the racer guy sitting there in too tight athletic shirts in his post-race interviews would also be realistic.

If he wins often enough you can add podium celebrations for after the races with buffets too. They usually party hard after a win (understandably).

Anyways I love your racer guy and the molded seat post was genious🤌

Thank you so much for all this info & inspo!! Around the time I made those two drawings I was doing some research so I eventually read about the weigh-ins and the weight plates and other bits and pieces of info :) though I felt like I needed some info that I couldn't get anywhere and, out of fear of getting anything wrong, I ended up not posting much about it.

Anyway... our guy would definitely be on the shorter side, would gain easily, and would absolutely get teased by the other driver of the team. He loves racing, bet he loves the rush of winning even more... too bad he gets easily distracted whenever food's involved, almost forgetting how he's supposed to be on a diet >:) thank god his good-hearted teammate is right there to remind him just how much weight he has put on since the start of the season...

[midnightcreator12]

Lmao imagine Leo getting in some stupid shit accidentally and getting a bounty set on him for that planet.

Getting random yummy ideas in the middle of the night and my family's asleep and my friends too so I can't text them but then I remember tumblr and I got u. Cool, that somewhat rhymes. Nice, usually my head is a war zone at night, anyway, bye!

You know, funny thing is, most bounty hunters in fiction have, at least, passive knowledge of each other. Meaning Chula's rep of 'I WILL fuck you up' would be infamous....except to new hunters.

-----------------------------------------

Leo had learned a lot about Chula over the last couple of months. And one of the first things he learned were her non-verbal commands.

They weren't hard to puzzle out and the most important ones were simple. Head tilts or open palms pointing when she wanted him to go a certain way, a closed fist held up when she wanted him to wait, that same upturn fist opening in a silent command to attack.

And if she put her hand on him suddenly while they were out and about, it meant something had caught her attention.

That touch would go one of two ways after that. If whatever it was turned out to be nothing, she would pat Leo's shoulder, his shell, his arm, wherever she'd put her hand on him she'd give a reassuring pat before drawing away. A silent 'false alarm, we can relax now'.

But sometimes, her hand would tug him closer, pull him as close to her as she could get him without being too obvious.

Like right now, in a pretty sparse ship depot. Neither had planned to go far, just explore around the station to stretch their legs and breathe fresh air while the ship was getting a refuel.

And then Chula had pulled Leo close enough so she could hook her arm protectively around his shoulders, shielding him from whatever had tripped her alarms.

The gesture would look casual to any outsider. Just Chula playing around.

Leo kept jabbering away to truly sell the casualness, like nothing was wrong as he pressed himself closer, letting Chula guide him so that she was in a better spot to shield him. He tried to look around inconspicuously, tried to pick out what had put Chula on edge-

He jumped when the sound of a laser gun went off, people screaming and scattering around them as Chula suddenly jerked forward and sparks burst around the back of her helmet.

She stumbled, both arms moving to shield Leo as she regained her footing. He heard her huff and then mutter, "Oh, they're new."

Leo opened his mouth to question what she meant but she suddenly moved away from him. He watched as she spun around the panicking locals and beelined for a cloaked figure.

They were short and Leo couldn't make out features at first. But Chula was upon the aggressor in seconds and slammed her fist into their chest.

The hood fell away as they stumbled back from the blow, showing a somewhat human face, if you ignored the blue skin and the spots. He wheezed and gasped loudly as he tried to get air back into his lungs.

Leo almost felt bad for the guy as Chula loomed over him, her voice almost casual as she asked him, "You wanna rethink this job buddy?"

"Frelll," the guy wheezed as he finally lost the fight to stay standing and dropped to his knees.

Leo dared to move closer then, but he stayed firmly behind Chula's arm as he peered down at the wannabe assassin, "Dude, did you rupture his spleen?"

"He's fine," Chula huffed. "Just green."

"He's blue though."

Chula chuckled, the sound low and raspy through her helmet, and crouched to be on eye level with the guy, "Either way, he should really know better than to try and take a shot at me."

The dude finally seemed to get his breath back, raising his head to glare at Chula, "You don't scare me! I'm taking that lil freak in for more credits than- ACK!"

He didn't finish the sentence.

The second he'd snarled 'freak' at Leo, the air had shifted. The guy didn't notice but Leo sure as hell had. Chula had been playing before, trying to scare the pants off a new and shiny bounty hunter.

But when it was clear that he was, one, after Leo, and two, had stooped to name calling. Well, Leo wasn't surprised when Chula's hand snapped out, massive palm fully circling the guys neck and squeezing.

She spoke again, voice much lower and the drawl of her accent a lot thicker, "If you ever come near me or my kid ever again. I'll string you up on my ship like a shabbin' rathtar carcass as a warning to every other new hunter that thinks they're a big shot. He," she jerked her head towards Leo. "Is off. Limits. Understand?"

The guy tried to nod, but he could only get the tiniest of movements out with Chula's hand pinning him like a bug.

Leo absently wondered if the guy was turning a dark shade of blue out of fear or because he definitely couldn't breathe properly.

Chula stood back up, letting the guy dangle for a moment.

Then she dropped him and fully turned back to Leo, "Right, where were we?" She was back to her normal level of 'accent that Leo couldn't quite place' and definitely grinning under her helmet.

Leo shrugged, "Looking to see if anyone in this station has good food?"

"Right, right, let's try that way, hm?"

Leo nodded, happily falling in step next to Chula as they left the newbie hunter retching on the floor.

And if he maybe leaned a bit closer to Chula as they walked, no one was there to call him on it anyway.

------------------------------------------

There's this one-shot I made, The Brumation Incedent, that the antag of tries to kidnap Leo because he looks really exotic. She was dumb enough to try and brute force things then and there.

It's definitely canon that several people have spied Leo and want to get him for various reasons (none good) but most see the walking tower of 'Don't Fuck With Me' and think that if they put a bounty out, a bigger, badder hunter will show up eventually with Leo.

Except there is a rule among hunters that have been around the block a few times: Do not fuck with Chula Verd. Even if you get the drop on her, once you've made yourself her enemy, you won't make it to the end of the month.

Sadly, no one told Mr. Blue Guy, lol

[daedalusdavinci]

jason and dick "whatever you do, don't open your eyes"

“Whatever you do, don’t open your eyes.”

It's a ridiculous sentence. It's the kind of sentiment that's reserved for kids, not people who have seen even half the shit Dick has. It's the kind of thing Dick said to Jason when he was fresh on the streets, rushing to slap his palms over the twelve-year-old's eyes before he glimpsed something that was decidedly too adult for someone quite so young.

But Dick could feel Jason's hand on his shoulder, firm and strong. He could hear the click of Jason's gun over his head and his own unsteady breathing, coming in quick gasps. His heart beat like a rabbit's in his chest, and without looking, he knew there were things creeping in on them, shadowy and dark with ice-tipped claws and mouths that dripped onto the dirty ground. He thought he could hear Two Face's laughter, or Tarantula's purr, creeping along his spine like flames that consumed everything he loved. Jason's hand was rotting away where it touched him, crumbling back into the corpse they'd buried.

He couldn't trust his eyes right now. But he could trust Jason.

Gunshots slammed against his eardrums as his fingers scraped against asphalt, searching for something to get a grip on, to brace himself against. They echoed around his skull until he wanted to tear it apart, morphing into the sound of friends hitting the ground, of a bat slamming against flesh.

He didn't realize the gunshots had stopped until he felt Jason's knee digging into his thigh, his hands tugging at Dick's shoulders. In his mind, he saw skeletal fingers and blood, and he fought it instinctively, drawing back.

"Hey, fuck off, don't fight me," said Jason's voice, hands grabbing Dick's wrists. "C'mon, Dickie-bird. It's okay. It's just me."

Dick stopped. It's just the toxin, he reminded himself firmly, choking on a deeper breath. He tried so hard to remember, but it was so easy to forget with this newer strain, all the fear crowding out the rational thoughts.

Jason pulled him in again, and this time Dick let himself be crushed against Jason's chest, feeling the cold leather of Jason's jacket dig into his cheek. If he turned his head right, he could hear Jason's heartbeat through it, alive and warm even through the hallucinations rattling around in his skull. The hard plastic of Jason's stupid helmet tapped against the top of his head, Jason's arms wrapped tightly around him. "It's just me," he repeated, quieter.

Dick took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around Jason. The fear still clung to the edges of his mind, but Jason must've stopped whatever was producing the gas, because it was thinning. The firm realness of Jason helped, knowing, at least, that his baby brother was fine. It was hard to speak, but he managed to joke, weakly, "Maybe I should get a stupid helmet."

Jason's laugh was a soft huff of breath that sounded strange through his modulator. "Tough shit. I was here first."

"Didn't stop you from stealing my gig. Twice."

"Hey, you gave me Robin."

"Then I've still got another one on you. Plus, you fucking stole the Red Hood. I swear it'd kill you to come up with something original."

Jason pinched him, and he jerked, knocking his head into Jason's.

"Smooth."

The new voice made Dick startle all over again, head jerking up on instinct. Visions of villains and corpses swam in his view, and he flinched back, grabbing behind him for one of his missing escrima sticks.

"Whoa, hey." Jason's hand grabbed his own, and he looked even worse this way, beaten and small and bloodied, his Robin costume tattered and hanging from burnt flesh. The image couldn't match up with the way he felt, and the real Jason came through in flashes, disorienting and strange. "It's just Steph. It's okay."

Dick shut his eyes, letting the visions fade back into the coolness of Jason's jacket and the asphalt underneath him. He leaned back into Jason, groaning quietly. "Still seeing things."

"I figured."

"Sorry, Dick." Stephanie's voice sounded strange through the rebreather, but he recognized it as her now. "I'm just here to pick up Scarecrow. You should get him back to the cave, Jay."

"Yeah, I got it." Jason gave Dick a squeeze. "Think you can handle riding with your eyes closed?"

"Who do you think I am?" Dick demanded, and Jason snorted.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Three

Master List / Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Warnings: Canon divergent during Chapter 13 of The Mandalorian, serious pining

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

The trip to Nevarro was hell. 

The Razor Crest now smelled like Baast, and after using his soap, their two scents had blended, and Din was going out of his kriffing mind. He'd taken to sleeping in the cockpit, having given up his cot, but it did little good. 

It was like the essence of her had invaded every part of his home.

He'd started having dreams. Dreams of a world with sand dunes and plains of long grass, where towering forests of old wood grew and swayed in gentle, fragrant breezes. He dreamed of walking the rock and sand trails of jagged mountains, of climbing steep cliffs to drink from sweet falls that appeared out of the clouds.

And when he reached his destination, a rocky outcropping high above the world, a cat leapt over the rocks to land before him. She was sleek lines and dense muscle, her coat tawny, darkening to black over her muzzle and legs. Long tufts of fur drifted in the wind from the tips of her ears, and green eyes watched him with a thousand years of ancient wisdom.

He knelt before the regal creature and pulled off his helmet. She padded closer, circled him once, sniffed him curiously, and began to purr. The rumble soothed his soul, and Din closed his eyes as her sleek, furry cheek rubbed against his.

"Mine," he whispered as he reached for her, waking himself from the dream every time.

By the time they landed on Nevarro, he was desperate for air that didn't smell like Baast. A few more parsecs, he may have done something stupid.

He met her at the gangway with a heavy cloak. "Put this on, draw the hood, and try to remain inconspicuous."

She arched a brow before handing over Grogu. The kid stuck to her like glue, eager to be at her side whenever he was awake. It was a relief to know someone else was watching him, but at the same time, he missed the kid's continual company.

Baast shrugged into the cloak and pulled the hood over her hair before laying her hand on his arm. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You have been distant."

"Just busy." He held out a silver bar roughly three inches long. "Extendable staff, at least until the Alor can get you those sabres."

She smiled at him, the light just catching her fangs. "Thank you, Mando."

He tilted his head but tugged the hood farther forward. "Let's go."

They'd landed well after dusk, assuring a quiet, uninterrupted trip through the streets. Those that lingered paid them no mind used to seeing the silver beskar of an unpainted Mandalorian.

The bar was fairing better after the fight with Moff Gideon. Walls had been repaired, and the damage painted over. 

He walked in and headed straight for the back booth, ignoring the eyes that followed. They knew better than to mess with him, and the music stayed lively.

Karga, however, wasn't alone.

"Karga. Dune," he stated, tossing three pucks on the table. 

"Only three, Mando? I sent you out with four," Karga teased. "Did a quarry finally escape the famed Mandalorian?"

"She's dead; body recovery was impossible."

He watched Cara's eyes flick to Baast and down to Grogu, a smile growing as she pushed from the table. "There's the little womp rat!"

Grogu squealed his happiness, but Baast growled.

The low sound set his hair on end, causing Din to step back, between the woman and his clan. "Cara, not now," he said, no explanation, not sure he had one to give. 

Baast placed her hand on the back of his neck, a place without beskar but covered by his cowl. Still, he felt it like a live wire jolt.

"Usenye!" Baast growled.

"Udesii," Din murmured, turning just enough to know he meant Baast.

"Whoa, someone's touchy," Cara muttered.

Mando didn't need this right now. The longer he stayed here, the more twitchy he felt, like something beneath his skin was itching to claw its way free. "Karga. If they ask, you tell them she's dead."

The man stared at him a long moment, assessing, processing before he gave a short nod. "I will log the information myself." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an ingot of beskar. "For your trouble and the three on your ship."

"Where did you get that?" Din asked, picking up the ingot.

"Took it off some Imps after that last clean up." A second pile of credits, smaller than it should be, landed next. "Consider us even."

"Done," he agreed, hyper-aware of Baast's hand still light against his neck.

"And congratulations, Mando. It isn't every day a Mandalorian takes a riduur."

He felt Baast's fingers twitch but didn't correct Karga's assumption.

"You got married!" Cara gasped, loud enough to cause the bar to pause and look their way. 

One long stare over his shoulder had them minding their business again. 

"Baast'mal. Cara Dune, former shock trooper, now Marshal for the New Republic. Greef Karga, head of the Bounty Hunters Guild, and Magistrate of Nevarro."

"A pleasure," Karga grinned. "Is it true wives put off their armour when they decide to have little warriors?"

Baast snorted. "Di'kutla. Anade knows gar ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya."

Din couldn't help but chuckle. "She says, foolish. Everyone knows you train your sons to be strong, but your daughters to be stronger. My woman is all warrior."

The words slipped out, and he couldn't bite them back. Baast's hand dropped from his nape, but only to lower and slide in at his waist, sneak past layers of beskar and again find flesh barely covered. She pressed closer, a low rumble vibrating between them, and Din felt approval wash from her like a wave.

"Ibic taap, Ni cuy' bat Kyr'nakil," she murmured, low enough only Din heard, informing him she didn't like it there.

He looked down at her, into the deep shadows of her hood as she clutched Grogu to her and found her eyes. This place had her on edge. With her Force sensitivity, he believed her, but he wanted to know why. "Tion'jor?"

"Too many bad feelings," she whispered. "There are hunters, many of them."

He gave a small tilt of his head. "Vaabir val olaror par gar?" he asked, wondering if they came for her.

A slight negative shake. "For news of the child."

Din was instantly enraged and leaned over the table toward Karga. "You're taking a bounty on the kid again?"

"What? No! Of course not!" the man cried in outrage.

"Mando." Cara laid her hand over his. "He hasn't, I swear."

Baast growled, causing Din to move his hand out from under Cara’s and block Baast in the same action. "There are hunters here for news of the kid. Get your cargo off my ship so we can leave." He swiped the credits off the table and turned to go, Karga already barking orders.

Din wasn't surprised when Baast's fingers snuck to the crook of his elbow. Or, he wasn't as surprised as he should be. A riduur walked where her mate could protect them and any children they might have. Her position kept her secure against him while hiding them behind a wall of beskar and weapons, handled by a highly dangerous predator.

"Mando, wait," Cara said, blocking their path. "Come to my place. You can rest, eat, and I can see the kid. I missed him."

Baast's fingers twitched. 

"Cara," he hesitated.

"Please. We're friends. Let a friend toast your good fortune."

Another low warning growl rippled from Baast when Cara touched his arm.

"She has nayc staabi!" Baast snarled.

Din looked down at her. "Technically, neither do you."

Her hand snapped off his arm like he'd burned her, shock and disappointment so profound it hurt, hit him like a rampaging mudhorn. 

She took a step in retreat, Grogu clinging to her, the kid looking just as devastated. 

What had he done? Kriff! Why would he say that?

"Baast!" he shouted but was too late as she spun on her heel and raced from the cantina. "Kriff!" he bellowed and gave chase, Cara hot on his heels.

"What the hell was that, Mando?" Dune demanded as they slammed through the doors only to find a deserted street. 

"Not your concern."

"Mando!" She grabbed him by the vambrace. She had no way of knowing how close he came to putting her through the wall. "What's really going on? Who is she?"

"You wouldn't understand. It's a Mandalorian thing." He shook her off and looked for Baast's tracks. 

It didn't surprise him at all when they went up a wall and over the roof.

Din took off after her, climbing as if his armour weighed nothing, leaving Cara behind to curse and swear. He followed long strides for some distance as she ran across roofs, finally leaving the residential district to head into a more industrial area. 

Again her tracks went up, and he followed, climbing the narrow ladder to the top of a tower that looked out over Nevarro. He found her there; knees pulled to her chest, the hood thrown back, clinging to Grogu as the kid did his best to stroke the tears from her face.

"Baast." 

She jerked but didn't move. "Go away, Mandalorian."

"I can't." He went to her and knelt, intent on taking her in his arms, only to have deadly claws close around his throat. 

"You have not the right," she snarled, her eyes piercing him through the beskar.

Grogu huffed and sighed, appearing at once both annoyed and exasperated.

"Nayc staabi. No right, that's what you said about Cara."

Baast snarled. "If you want the shock trooper so badly, have her!" she snapped, pushing him back with strength, causing him to rock on his heels.

"I don't, and she doesn't want me. She would be more inclined to go for you," he chuckled.

She blinked big green eyes. "Oh…" Her hand slowly relaxed until it lay on his chest.

This time when he gathered her close, she didn't resist. "Forgive me. I said something stupid."

"But true," she sighed. "You did not dispute the claim of riduur. I knew it meant nothing but got caught up in my role. You are free to do what you wish with whomever you wish," she sighed.

Din didn't think. He didn't plan his next move. It was like instinct demanded he act, and so he did.

"Baast. Close your eyes."

She did so without hesitation or question as Din stripped off his gloves. The helmet hissed when he released it, causing her brow to twitch. Before he took it off, he wrapped his arm around her and covered her eyes with his hand.

"Din?" she whispered, her uncertainty clear. 

"Trust me," he murmured, lifting his helmet free with his other hand. They were too high up for anyone to see, and the moons had yet to rise, leaving them bathed in shadows. 

Grogu cooed and sat down a few feet away, apparently content to let the adults sort this out on their own.

Din gave him a last look before setting his helmet down and raising that hand to lightly, tenderly, stroke her face. "I don't want just anyone," he whispered, unable to deny what was written in his heart. "Just you," he sighed and lightly brushed their mouths together. 

He'd never kissed anyone before, but he wanted to kiss Baast. 

***

Din woke with a jolt and a clang of beskar as he fell out of the pilot's chair and onto the floor. 

He lay there confused and disoriented until he realized the entire thing had been a dream. 

He groaned softly enough that it didn't leave the safety of his helmet and pushed to his hands and knees before sitting back on his thighs. This trip was going to kill him. The dream had been far too real.

He picked himself off the floor and looked up to find Grogu smirking at him. "Don't start."

The kid gurgled a noise that shouldn't in any way have been cute but somehow still was.

"Hungry?" Din asked.

Grogu waddled closer, arms up.

"Of course you are. When are you not hungry?" he chuckled, picking up the kid and heading for the ladder down into the belly of his ship. 

He was just getting Grogu situated when the door to the fresher opened, revealing Baast in nothing but a towel. 

She jolted in surprise. "I did not expect… you… I…" A bright blush bloomed darkly across her cheeks. Then, she straightened, lifting her chin like a royal, firming her composure. "You have not joined us for meals as of late. I did not expect you and have washed my clothing."

His mouth was desert dry when he attempted to speak, but no words emerged, and Din was grateful for the helmet that hid his gaping mouth. He stared for too long before stepping away from Grogu and his gruel toward Baast. She stiffened, hand flexing where she clutched the cloth closed, but the Zentari didn't back down.

Din moved with cautious steps to the crates piled against the wall and shoved two over before picking up the third and setting it down on top of the others. From within, he pulled out blue silks. "I have this if you want it."

A regal brow arched, her wet hair sleek and sticking to her now brushed the tops of her thighs. "Why does a Mandalorian have a courtesan's dress in his belongings?"

He flinched, having hoped she wouldn't recognize it. "Because an assassin dressed as a courtesan attempted to kill me, but not until after she'd taken her clothes off."

Baast eyed the cloth a moment longer before gliding forward to pluck it from his fingers. "Did she succeed in the seduction?"

"No. That's why she was naked. She made a poor courtesan."

"Hmm," purred from her as she walked back into the fresher, and the door closed behind her. "And you have simply kept it lying around?" she called through the door.

Did she sound jealous, or was he still dreaming? "It's not something a Mandalorian can walk into the market and sell without garnering a second look."

"You were not, perhaps, keeping it for your riduur?"

The door opened, and Din forgot how to speak. Blue silk fell in sleek lines from the golden band that bared the under curve of her breasts. She swept out and headed for Grogu, sailing past him, her damp hair leaving a dark stain on the skirt. 

"I haven't thought much about a riduur." Before now. 

He followed her like a Bantha would a Tuskin Raider, and when she sat to help Grogu with his food, Din came to a stop behind her. 

She looked up, but he knew the beskar made it hard for her to read him. "Is it that terrible? Do I not make a passable courtesan?"

"More than passable," escaped his mouth, his brain still malfunctioning. "But your hair is dripping."

"Wet hair does that," she teased him with a smile.

"May I?"

She blinked as he began to strip off his gloves. "Din?"

"Let me," he murmured, running his fingers like a comb through her thick locks. He sat on a crate and worked free what few tangles had formed before splitting the mass in half. He began the plait high, working it smooth against her scalp and down behind her ear. When his fingers brushed the pointed tip, a shudder raced through her, but a low, happy purr followed. He made it to the end and used a scrap piece of leather to bind the long braid. 

"How is it that a Mandalorian knows how to do a woman's hair with the skill of a maid?"

He froze, fingers full of sand-coloured silk. "My mother," he murmured. "I once did it for my mother."

Her hand closed gently on his knee, Baast reaching back, otherwise staying still for him. "A good memory, I hope."

"One of my only good memories," he murmured, finishing the section close to her skull and swiftly plaiting the rest. Once he tied the end, she turned to look up at him and left him breathless. 

He'd never seen a more mesh'la creature. Men would spend their entire fortune for one night with her. But Din looked at her and saw her dressed in the ornaments of a riduur. Beskar bands for her braids, the cuff that would circle her upper arm and proudly display the mark of the mudhorn, proclaiming her part of his clan. The beskar breastplate that would be hers the moment their first child was born.

"Then, I am pleased to help you remember it." She stroked one of the thick plaits. "I am happy to offer myself to your ministrations in the future, should you so desire to assist me again."

Vital portions of his anatomy tightened, causing him to rise swiftly and step away from her tempting allure. "We'll be in Nevarro soon. I'll see about more suitable clothing when we get there."

He climbed the ladder back to the cockpit, knowing damn well he was running away.

***

riduur -  spouse

Usenye! - Go away!

Udesii - Calm down.

Ibic taap, Ni cuy' bat Kyr'nakil - This place, I am on edge

Tion'jor - why

Vaabir val olaror par gar - do they come for you

 nayc staabi - no right

 ***

Next Chapter

[mantra4ia]

Trixstar Imagine Fanfiction: "Three Times The Charm"

By mantra4ia. August 1st 2020. Cross posted to AO3.

One of the most aggravating things about hell was that Lucifer could still hear prayers. Like a soundproof room with a squeaky fan. Like a 'no smoking' sign on your cigarette break. Like listening to Alanis Morissette unironically. God's final joke, Lucifer lamented, was that deep in the bowels of exile was just enough awful celestial Wi-Fi to get the spam — prayers to other celestials of which he only caught the static, or pleas to the big man himself — like the bleed-over on an AM/FM radio. Which was why, when Lucifer finally heard a prayer loud and clear with the volume turned up to 11, it nearly knocked him off his thrown. It had been so long since anyone had prayed directly to him, not in jest, or begging for a favor, but earnestly and with fervor that at first it gave him a migraine. He could hardly hear the words let alone distinguish the voice behind them, until at last he was able to tune in to someone achingly familiar.

"Hey Lucifer, it's me."

Trixie, you little hellion, is it really you?!

"it's Trixie. I'm not sure whether you'll remember me. It's been a while."

You have no idea...but of course I remember you mini-Decker, don't be silly.

"Maybe you think I'm still pet sized. Well I'm not anymore."

I promise you, those remarks had nothing to do with your stature and everything to do with your intelligence, and possibly also your penchant to devour snack cakes, small human. But I admit I was wrong Trixie, you're smart and clever. It was then that the epiphany struck Lucifer: why and how was she praying to him at all?

"I bet you're wondering why I called you on the long distance prayer line. At first I thought maybe I would hear your voice answer me back, but I guess this will have to do. You see Lucifer, I may have lied to you, and I know you are not going to like that, but I hope it doesn't keep you away forever."

What? He took flight from his throne and down to lowest depth of hell scape, trying without success to fully find his footing among the chasms, his knees imperceptibly shaking —though he knew not why — while his feet took hold of him though he knew not where to. As if beckoned by the siren sound of her voice, he made his way through the winding onyx labrynth, turning where her voice waned and proceeding again where it renewed in strength.

"Because I didn't lie-outright-lie. I just didn't tell the whole truth. I've always known you were an angel, like your brother Amenadiel. Just that you live in different places. I wrote a whole bunch of letters over the years, but the post office told me Hell wasn't a valid address, and eventually they started making fun of me behind my back for not having enough postage."

Well you should have tried sending it via the DMV. Honestly, Beatrice, I have any number of portals there. A whole network really.

"Anyway, I figure where you are it might be lonely, so I guess this is as good a time as any to catch up."

Out with it then, what's the sitch child?

"I just started driving lessons, although they're not as good as yours." That's my girl. "And Charlie's doing great, he started playing soccer." Please don't tell me Linda had him play keeper to keep an eye out for infant angel powers. "He's the goalie." Christ, I bet she put him in a helmet too. "I was mad at him for a long time, I know he's only little, but I was angry that he couldn't remember you like I remember you. He even asked me if you were my imaginary friend." Does he really not remember his Uncle Lucifer? "I know, kids are dumb. But I'm not mad anymore. I drew him a picture of you in my art class...and my detention after I didn't do the actual assignment in art class, but still-lifes of fruit are boring. It doesn't look like my old drawings on the refrigerator from the last time you were here, if that's what you're worried about. And it's better than Amenadiel's stick figure drawings. If I'm being honest, I wanted to make sure I remembered you too. Maybe one day you can tell me what you think. My teacher Mrs. Fissner says it's very good. Disturbing but good. She may have sent me to see the social worker. Mom misses you. I miss you too. Listen Lucifer, I'm sorry I didn't reach out sooner but...never mind, I guess that's all for now...."

No, Trixie. You're the first human voice I've heard in a thousand years who isn't begging for mercy. Don't, please, Lucifer pleaded.

"It's just that I don't really believe in prayers. I mean, I think they're kind of stupid..."

You're preaching to the choir Trix. I couldn't agree more, this rare instance being a timely exception.

"...because people somehow find a way to make it all about them, and what they want, when they should really be listening."

Oh damnation, don't tell me you've turned into a theological scholar, or did Amenadiel put you up to this? Fess up. Could you sound anymore like your mum, you're the second oldest young person I know. Where is the Beatrice who could extort people for cash, lay waste to my flat in a single pirouette, and inhale chocolate like I inhale controlled substances? A haunting thought ghosted over Lucifer's nostalgia. Did I miss all your formative years?

"And I don't want to do that, because I don't want to torture you."

Lucifer's step faltered as he slid to the ground against the ravine walls, at last overwhelmed by the whole absurd, miraculous encounter. All the days upon days he'd spent torturing souls without missing a beat, and Trixie was worried about torturing him? About how her struggles might affect him? His chin sank to his chest, and Lucifer cried.

"Mom didn't tell me you went back to hell, because she doesn't know that I believe you when you said you're the devil, but she did tell me that it's important and that in your new job a lot depends on you. I didn't want to hurt you by asking you to come back when I know that you can't. But this life is really important too Lucifer, and...it's mom. She's got a new friend."

So that's it, Lucifer thought in resignation, that's why she's praying.

"I feel lost between them. So I asked God to send me an angel, the nicest angel he had."

You've got to be kidding me? Is that what I am now sloppy seconds, I'm not even first on the prayer chain!

"Except I'm pretty sure I already used up that prayer when he sent me you."

Lucifer's din of thoughts fell into silence as he hauled himself up to full stature, trying to pull himself together. I can't help you Trixie, your mom deserves to be happy. Chloe deserves to share her life with someone who makes her feel as special as she really is. And God help me, I can't believe I'm saying this, but it would help if you showed her a little grace.

"So I was hoping Lucifer, that you could please come back and show my mom this isn't the right guy for her. I know you're the only one who can."

Not if it puts you both in harm's way, Lucifer said, knowing that his words would never reach her, and that her prayer like a billion others before would float away unrequited.

"If you can't help me, please help her."

Lucifer stopped cold. Why would the detective need my help?

"I told you, Lucifer. I need you to understand that I've always known what you look like. More than that, I need you to know I've always understood who you are. So that you'll believe me when I say I know that my mom's friend, the one that looks like you, isn't really you."

It was only then that Lucifer realized the wall he'd braced against was not a stone cliff, but a gate. He did not waste a moment eviscerating the lock.

Trixie had searched for Lucifer once, in his mortal abode at Lux.

She'd found him again within his personal den of iniquity without batting an eye.

Little did she realize that even in the lowest depths of hell she could reach him. Dad's blessings, it seems, run in the family.

Third time's the Trix. You're right urchin. It's time to go home.

***21 days of Lucifer Countdown: 21 days until season five. New content daily***

[that-is-where-they-wait]

That is Where They Wait Ch 14: The Letter

previous / next all chapters AO3 FFN

[so funny story I actually posted this on FFN and ao3 forever ago but not here. oops. but posting here is a hassle, in my defense. hope everyone is doing okay? also check the notes for some Haha Funny Jokes because I don't want to add them to the. actual post.]

Perhaps the way to answer the present is with the past.

The metal of the hinge was cool under his finger, intricate design branching onto the actual door. It should've been smooth, but instead it was rough and red.

Rust.

Kai frowned. Rusty metal was usually brittle — but the door hadn't come down, even when he and Karlof rammed into it repeatedly. That plan of ripping at its hinges and hoping it came down was starting to look flimsy.

Ech. Well, they had to keep trying and hope for the best. It wasn't like they could stay in the small, dark room much longer. Kai had cobbled together a makeshift flame with pieces of rope and cloth from his gi, but it would definitely not last much longer.

Plus, he was getting really antsy, and it'd be just plain stupid to be so isolated when they weren't safe. When he'd asked about Lloyd and found out he was, in fact, both inside the mansion and unaccounted for, he had been about ready to knock Karlof's helmet off of his head.

… In hindsight, maybe he'd been a little forceful.

But hey, in return, he'd informed Karlof about everything they knew on the mansion and the spirit so far. So he didn't feel too bad about it.

"Psst." He went over to where he'd left Karlof and poked. "We gotta go."

No response.

Ohhhh, perfect. The guy had to go and fall asleep on him. They'd already spent so much time staying put! He was itching to get moving again, and Lloyd and Skylor were still out there, who knew where! Not to mention, if the others woke up and noticed him missing … (It occurred to him, a little belatedly, that they might blame Jay for that. Another twinge of guilt. But he could apologize for that when they went back.)

But it had been an exhausting trek just to get here. Karlof had endured that, and no sleep to recharge afterwards …

Kai sighed, seating himself next to him. Yeah, they weren't going anywhere until Karlof finished his beauty sleep. But then there came the issue of having nothing to distract himself with. Already he could just feel himself tiredly debating whether to indulge the pessimistic trains of thought forming in his head in all their bleak glory.

Abruptly, something slammed against him. Okay, so it didn't slam into him, but it definitely felt that way, because oof! It was heavy. Kai squirmed briefly, but a moment later, he realized he shouldn't even bother. Instead, he hissed an irritated puff of air through his teeth and tried to pull an overly-cuddly Karlof off of him. Why in the name of the First Spinjitzu Master was he—

An exposed part of his bandaged arm made contact with Karlof's for a second, before Kai drew it away and grimaced at how cold it was.

… Oh.

The way Karlof's arm was draped on him, Kai couldn't reach his face with his hand. He settled for a drawn-out groan instead. Just because he was the human toaster … and now he couldn't move!

Oh well. If nothing else, he could totally hold it over Karlof's head later. Blackmail material or something. But what was he supposed to do now?

A bleary yawn escaped his mouth.

There was one idea.

Nope, he thought to himself immediately. No way, José, someone had to stay awake, and he'd already bailed out on that once. But the door was locked, and the whole day and the effects of staying up so long were finally catching up to him …

Kai tried to debate the point a little longer, but as it turned out, he was pretty tired. Too tired to properly argue with himself, and before he could, he'd already fallen asleep.

The tiny flame winked out and left the room engulfed in black.

Lloyd wrapped up a summary of the search he'd just gotten back from.

Considering that depressingly little had changed since the last time they'd looked, it didn't take very long. The ever-encroaching cocktail of panic and despair clawed at his guts and his chest, made his throat tight, and he could feel it radiating off of Jay and Cole near him, optimistic as they tried to remain. At least Skylor had gotten some work in on fixing her bow while they'd been gone, although she hopefully wouldn't be needing it anytime soon.

The light trickling from the windows had become thin, silvery moonlight and long, fragmented shadows streaking across the floor and cutting into each other. Cole glanced at everyone in the room and declared that it was probably about time they slept; both searches had taken quite a while, even with how much of the mansion was still closed off to them. It didn't seem likely that much more would happen that day.

Zane took in everything they said solemnly, then pulled something out from beside him.

"It's disheartening to know that the two of them are still missing. But perhaps I can offer something else to think about before we rest for tonight?"

On closer inspection, it appeared to be a faded eggplant-colored satchel.

"I found this on the mantle while you were investigating in the tunnels. I didn't want to look through it without you …"

"Can I?" Lloyd reached out, opening the bag and peering into it for a moment. Then, as the rest of them watched, he stuck his hand in and, one by one, set its contents onto the floor for better examination.

On the carpet, there currently sat a small black inkwell, a quill stand, a bound book, a faded set of folded purple clothes, an assortment of large and small weapons, and a few loose pieces of parchment with writing on them. Maybe it all belonged to the person that owned the place, ages ago?

Evidently, they were all wondering a similar thing.

Lloyd set aside the empty bag and stared at the various items he'd placed down. "Hm. They were carrying weapons …"

"Whose stuff is all this?" Skylor finally voiced the question.

"It likely dates back to the Serpentine war," Zane said. "The antiquity of all the items would fit."

"Well, then, we should find out, shouldn't we?" Jay grabbed the book, slowly teasing open the binding and riffling through the pages. Lloyd caught a glimpse of inky letters over paper lightly yellowed with time; all things considered, it was pretty well-preserved.

"Careful, Jay, that looks heavy. Wouldn't wanna pull a muscle lifting that thing." Cole's mouth twitched up in a smirk, Jay briefly peering over the book with narrow eyes.

"… I mishandle an empty packing crate one time."

"Yeah, well," Lloyd huffed. "You nearly dropped it right on my foot. I still get splinters from that crate when I'm not watching my step."

"Thanks, Lloyd!" Jay looked supremely offended. "I didn't ask!" Still a little sullen from the disappointing results of the day, Lloyd didn't bother sassing him back. He scoffed when he noticed Jay looking helplessly at Zane — they all knew full well that never worked, so when the nindroid minutely shook his head there was hardly any surprise.

"Silly zaptrap," Cole shook his head and tsked. "Once is all it takes on this team. You of all people should know better."

Jay hmphed and nearly went back to skimming the book he'd picked up, but his head popped up curiously when Skylor spoke.

"Isn't it kind of late? If we're going to look at anything, maybe we should read one of the loose sheets instead. I feel like trying to get into something that long when we need to sleep isn't the best idea. I want to stay in-the-know, but I'm not sure how much longer I can pay attention to anything right now …" She shrugged, looking a little self-conscious. "Sorry."

Oh, right. It was usually Lloyd's job to be one of the voices of reason.

Looking around, he was certain that last sentence didn't pertain to just Skylor, though. The banter was being tossed rather lazily and there was a sluggishness to everyone's movements, even Zane's. As for himself, the temptation to just plonk onto the next piece of bedding he picked up while cleaning up the aftermath of the pillow-and-assorted-accessories fight and sleep on it right there had been overwhelming.

"It's quite alright," Zane reassured her. "You have a point, at that. Perhaps something like this would suffice for tonight?" He held up a messily rolled piece of paper, and pulled it open. Lloyd eyed it and nodded; seemed interesting enough. Most likely, they could learn a thing or two, discuss, and then go to bed without too much further ado.

"Looks good to me," Cole said. "Let's see about this person, then."

Zane's eyes fell to the paper for a few seconds before freezing, glowing ever so faintly brighter, and doing a funny skip between Lloyd and the paper before settling back on the paper. Lloyd frowned, unsure he liked the new furrow in Zane's brow.

"What is it, buddy?"

Zane coughed awkwardly. Amazing how even nindroids did that when they were nervous.

"This appears to be a letter addressed to Garmadon."

Lloyd's eyes widened, breath hitching. Abruptly his heart felt less like it was beating and more like it was trying to break itself out of his chest.

Dad.

It had been, safe to say, a little while since he'd thought about his father. The same father he'd gone through hell and back to finally have by his side, only to banish and then drown for good.

He'd kept himself good and busy, helping the team move base to the abandoned Temple of Airjitzu. Warded off the lingering pain from remembering, during the Day of the Departed, pretty well with dusting and heavy lifting and organizing what needed to be packed.

Lloyd had always done his best to draw strength from his father's memory. Like he'd told his mother during Day of the Departed: "Sometimes it feels like he's still with me."

It sure didn't feel like he was with Lloyd now.

"Lloyd?"

He blinked.

"Lloyd, you good?"

He looked over. Cole and the others were all watching him with concern, trying to gauge his reaction.

Quietly, he took a deep breath. He was supposed to have gotten past this. It wasn't supposed to still sting so much when he'd moved onto something healthier, more bittersweet than the more raw, consuming pain he'd known for a while.

Maybe the mansion's atmosphere was digging deeper than he'd thought, ripping open old wounds on top of slashing new ones.

"Yeah." Then, to ensure they couldn't press him about it, "Are you sure, Zane? Lemme see." Zane obliged, handing him the letter. Lloyd took it and held it up to the firelight, careful not to wrinkle the aged parchment, and skimmed it silently, feeling everyone's eyes still on him.

Having caught his reaction to Garmadon's name, they were probably a little surprised when he chuckled.

"What is it?" Skylor tilted her head. "What did they say?"

"It's just the first paragraph. Listen to this!" Clearing his throat, all too glad to focus on the letter, he read it, the ninja going from attentive listening to confused snickering as he did.

"My dearest friend, Garmadon, it seems fitting to start with the most important subject here—thanks a lot for letting me blunder into that whole mess, you absolute withered honeysuckle. I was delayed two whole days trying to firstly explain how I accidentally deposed a chieftess, and then restore some semblance of normalcy to the village. I don't," Lloyd had to catch his breath, barely managing to stop snickering long enough to finish the sentence, "I don't even know why we're still friends." "What in the world is this talking about?" Cole wheezed.

"Absolute withered honeysuckle," Jay mimicked, cracking up himself.

"Well. They were friends, we've learned that much," Skylor stated, desperately trying to regain a straight face.

"Absolute chums, from the sound of it. Just the best of buddies. Like you and me, huh, Cole?"

"If this whole 'accidentally deposed a chieftess' stuff is anything to go by," Cole said, still laughing, "they were even better."

"I wonder what they got up to if this was forty years ago." Zane set about tidying up the remaining letters and the bound book earlier held by Jay, probably figuring he might as well get it over with while they were all distracted. "Or who this was, to be so evidently close to Garmadon."

"Uh, am I the only one wondering what a honeysuckle is?"

Metaphorical crickets, much to Jay's chagrin.

"Just me? Okay."

A sigh. "They're flowers, Jay."

As the room got quiet enough to hear the crackling fireplace again, Lloyd went back to skimming the letter. The little smile that had lingered on his face fell flat again as he took in the words.

"What's the holdup?" Jay complained after a moment.

"Honestly, with the way this is written, if I read it verbatim you'd probably fall asleep," Lloyd muttered over the page. "Shut up and let me summarize."

"I … okay."

Lloyd squinted at the words. "This is an awful lot to take in. What's a … Shhh … Shuuuuravansha?"

"A what?" A confused chorus met his ears; evidently the rest of the room only knew about as much as he did.

"Maybe the word comes from the local language," Cole suggested. "I did hear a lot of the villagers speaking something I didn't recognize."

"Probably. Zane, you wouldn't happen to have that language in your databases or anything, would you?" Jay asked.

"I'm afraid not," Zane said apologetically. "What is the rest of the sentence, Lloyd? Perhaps the proper context will make it easier to guess."

"'I spoke with the Shuravansha and revised the contingency plans based on the information I got from them, as well as reports from you and our spies on the Serpentine's movement.' How do you even say that?"

"I guess the jury stays out on that one," Cole replied. "But I don't think that's a person. It says 'the Shuravansha'. I don't call Jay 'the Jay'; it'd be weird."

"So a group of some sort?" Jay suggested. "The word 'the' implies more than one."

"But it could be a title," Skylor pointed out. "Like 'the chief' or 'the sensei'."

"Either way, it reveals little about the nature of this Shuravansha," Zane said. "All that sentence gave us is that they had information about the Serpentine relevant to the author of this letter."

"Whatever it is, it's probably important," Lloyd muttered, rubbing his eyes and going back to the letter. "But maybe we'll find more clues about them later."

"Then we should remember it," Skylor muttered. "How do you spell that?"

He spelled it out and kept reading. The room went back to quiet anticipation, until Lloyd sputtered, squinted at something on the page, then looked up at them.

"What the heck, Cole?"

"Huh?" All eyes were now on a flabbergasted Cole. "Wh-what'd I do?!"

"I, it's not you, it's just — since when was the last master of earth a traitor?"

"Whoa whoa whoa, what?" Jay piped up. "That's kinda a heavy accusation to just bandy around!"

"What is this coming from, Lloyd?" Zane asked.

"It literally says right there, 'Earth went traitor on us'! There's only one way to read that!"

Skylor was scribbling like mad.

"Wha—well, don't look at me!" Cole said. "I don't know anything about this!"

"Maybe that's not all there is to it." It was difficult to see Skylor's eyes behind the shades. "My father turned the Anacondrai and the other tribes against humans to start the whole war in the first place. Then he turned the elemental masters against themselves."

"Maybe that was the case here too. Is there anything else about the master of earth, Lloyd?" Zane spoke up.

"Full sentence is 'The Constrictai among them can burrow, and ever since Earth, the weasel, went traitor on us, we lost our best protection against that tactic.' So they're really still talking about the Serpentine."

"Hmm."

"Mmmaybe we should go back to the rest of the letter?" Jay said tentatively.

"I dunno. I kinda wanna hear about this." Cole curiously poked his head closer, wanting to get a look at the letter. Lloyd drew back and immediately felt bad when Cole regarded him a moment before scooting back, hiding a yawn behind his hand.

Right. It was late.

"I mean, there isn't anything else in the letter about them … just the one sentence."

"Fine. What's the rest of it say, then? We really don't have the rest of the night here."

He had a point. Lloyd was pretty ready to be done with the letter and get some rest, by now.

"Wait a sec," Jay said. "'Went traitor on us.' Who's 'us'?"

"Oh." Cole's eyes widened. "Oh my god, you actually have a point. Yeah, that sounds an awful lot like … they called him 'Earth', not his name."

"How do you know that's not his name? Maybe his mom had a weird taste in names."

"... I'm pretty sure that wasn't his name, Jay."

"The word 'us' does seem to suggest camaraderie," Zane mused. "Given that and their knowledge of elemental power, perhaps they were acquainted with the elemental masters, or worked alongside them in some manner."

"That makes sense," Lloyd agreed, not looking up from the paper he held. "Or maybe they even were a master!"

"There's nothing to confirm it yet …" Skylor pointed out. "I'll just write down that they probably knew about the elemental masters. I think that's a safe conclusion."

"Fair enough," Zane said. "I think we should hear the rest of the letter now, before it gets much later. Lloyd?"

"Okay, so. Basically, my dad sent this person, whoever they are, info about Serpentine movement in the area. There were more loose gangs causing trouble than anything, they were just harder to predict because they weren't associated with the Anacondrai commanders. But according to them, the Southern Woodlands were in too strategic a location to risk—"

"Southern Woodlands?" Jay interrupted.

"That's probably what this forest is called. The villagers called it that on our way here."

"Yeah, I think I remember hearing that from someone," Cole said.

"Anyway. Like I was saying." Lloyd coughed pointedly and continued. "The Woodlands were too risky to leave unprotected because the thick plant life would give the Serpentine a naturally-sheltered base to recover and hide in. And they didn't have a lot of time left because … wait." The loopy handwriting in thick black ink cut off abruptly near the middle of the page, the last sentence never to be finished. "It just cuts off mid-sentence."

"Why did I ever think I'd have an easy time of this." Skylor sounded disappointed. "There wouldn't happen to be a name or anything at the bottom, would there?"

Lloyd shook his head. Of course there wasn't; that'd be too easy for them, now, wouldn't it?

"So why didn't they have time, exactly?" Jay said.

"An abrupt end of that nature would suggest some kind of interruption, would it not?" Zane said. "They never had the chance to finish writing this letter."

"If this is from the same era as everything else we've been seeing, then there was a war on. I imagine that'd do it," Cole said.

"Okay, but there's no signs of a fight in this room," Jay pointed out.

"... Ah. That is. Also true."

If he were a little less tired, Lloyd would've chuckled at Cole being caught off-guard without even a witty defense.

"I wonder what they were expecting not to have a lot of time for …" Lloyd wondered. "There's no signs of a fight here, but it's super messy everywhere else, especially downstairs. Maybe something happened there."

"And maybe it's related to the spirit." Cole ran a hand through his thick, messy hair, eyes dark. "There's no way something like that came out of nowhere."

"Given what we know, it is still impossible to gauge exactly what took place in this mansion," Zane said. "It does seem likely that the Serpentine activity this person mentioned had something to do with it, though. The only way to know for sure would be to find more information"

"So we don't know that, either," Jay muttered. "Write that down as a solid 'maybe', I guess."

Skylor nodded. "Anything else I should put down?"

Lloyd shook his head, and Skylor gratefully flipped the notepad closed and set it aside. Her words had actually begun to slur together with tiredness, so even if there were, he wasn't about to put her through writing it.

"Well, if that's all, then." Cole yawned, again. "Let's call it a day. How long's it been?"

"My internal clock is completely frozen," Zane sighed. "And PIXAL says she can't start it up without any connection to the outside world. But according to my timer, it's been approximately 15 hours since Jay woke me and Cole up to inform us Kai was missing."

Yep. Definitely time to wind down.

The mood dipped briefly at the mention of Kai, but Cole determinedly moved on to the topic of keeping watch, and whether they should do it tonight.

Eventually they decided that it definitely needed to stay, but split it up into two equal shifts. Two of them weren't even options to be considered. Lloyd offered to take shift, but given that he'd gotten out of a tough scrape with the spirit earlier and gone on both search expeditions, everyone else refused to let him, arguing he needed the rest. That left just Cole and Jay, but Cole, having gone through the mansion both times, was tired too. Jay would have to keep watch first.

Then came sleeping arrangements, which also worked themselves out quickly enough. Zane, for whatever reason, stayed in a corner to recharge, Skylor was on one bed, and whoever wasn't on shift would be sharing a bed with Lloyd.

"Alright, Jay, don't do anything stupid this time," Cole ribbed Jay, who was shifting around burnt kindling and trying to keep the little bit of fire left alive.

Jay stuck his tongue out.

"You have sooo much faith in me. Come on, I've learned my lesson here."

"Your timer's working, right? Make sure to wake me in … four hours?"

"Four and a half," Jay corrected him. "And yeah, I will."

"Cool. Night." And with that, Cole left him to his current task: striking a match onto a pile of kindling and hoping for a fire big enough to last.

Soon enough, everyone had bid each other goodnight and settled down.

Lloyd pulled his blanket a little closer to himself, still feeling a residual chill seep into his bones. With nothing to keep preoccupied with, ugly thoughts about the mansion, the horrors of its obscure history, their current conditions, his own utter incompetence, the way he'd just let Karlof get lost, Kai came creeping in far too readily. He tried to push them away.

Not now. Couldn't think about all of those things now or he'd never rest. Even tired, falling asleep was a challenge with sore limbs and unceasing nerves scratching away at him and a bitter resentment towards it all beginning to sink into his bones.

Lloyd closed his eyes regardless, trying to empty his mind. He could faintly hear Jay's breathing under the familiar crackle of the flames that were only too reminiscent of their missing piece.

Shadows twisted and danced on the walls.

Exhaustion won out eventually.