#the visors get narrower every generation huh

[redbean-nom]

Mand'alor and Fett

also a plain color and lineart version

(seriously every generation with a named Fett features at least one of them being the Mand'alor's best friend or family)

[brittababbles]

Only Mine - Target Practice part 2

Din Djarin x reader

Author’s Note and Warnings: Target Practice part 2, just in time for new Mando! This is still young!Din. Warnings: some stalkerish tendencies, moderate voyeurism, a creepy guy with abusive behaviors, implied murder, straight up deep throating, unprotected vaginal sex. So all the goods. Enjoy

 You’ve had better days.

Being received by the engineer-in-charge, twenty minutes later than you should have arrived, to be informed that half the fleet was due to have taken off ten minutes ago but certain ships needed repairs that weren’t complete, was not exactly the prelude to a happy, relaxed sort of morning. Not that most mornings were either happy or relaxed on this space station.

The fact that every engineer on the station was scurrying about like so many alarmed rats while every pilot on the station chased after them, in varying states of panic, did nothing to lower your nerves. You trotted obligingly across the hanger, following your boss toward an old and shivering freighter that was coughing out disquieting amounts of bright blue smoke. Your eyes were not fixed on the ship in front of you, however, but scanning the immediate area for a familiar glint of metal.

Interesting. All pilots were here but one, it seemed.

You dropped your tools at the foot of the belching engine and watched the screeching pilot descend the loading ramp. Your boss, Brejor, immediately launched into a heated argument with the small, blue-skinned man, evidently about either payment or your qualifications, which gave you time to examine your patient.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” you murmured soothingly, running your hand over the engine’s durasteel external paneling.

Given the smell and color of the smoke being produced, you guessed something was wrong with the fuel injection system, and likely the heat produced from the malfunction was melting half the coatings off the hyperdrive. You sighed and glanced down at your bag. You’d need a hyperspanner, and you didn’t have one with you.

“Be right back,” you muttered, tapping your boss on the shoulder to get his attention.

He threw a grunt back at you before resuming his heated discussion.

You jogged back across the hanger, feeling a little foolish for having just made the same trip in the opposite direction. Reaching one of the storage cabinets, you tugged on the rusted door and stepped into the dimly lit storage room. You ambled mildly among the metal-grate shelves, and, locating the hyperspanner at just-above eyeline, stood on your toes to reach it.

You heard a grunt, then a cackle, from the other side of the metal shelf, and glanced through a gap in the back-stocked parts.

It was extremely hard to misunderstand what you were seeing.

Kneeling on the floor was a young Twi’lek woman. Your brain registered that you’d seen her before, and that you’d learned her name to be Xi’an, but that she was not nearly so familiar as who she knelt in front of. There was hardly any way to mistake the Baskar.

The Twi’lek’s hand was wrapped around Mando’s cock, pumping up and down it’s length with increasing speed. For his part, the Mandalorian was leaning backward against a stack of crates behind him. His head was tipped downward, watching Xi’an’s ministrations on his cock.

You were aware that you should grab your tools and exit the storage room as quickly as possible, but instead you stood, transfixed, your mind lingering between fascination and jealousy.

And, if you were honest with yourself, a touch of arousal.

The Twi’lek girl was speaking, her voice so low that you had to strain your ears to catch what she said.

“You like that, Mando, hmm?” she growled.

He didn’t answer, simply tipped his head back slightly, enjoying the sensation.

And his visor met your eyes.

You rocked back on your heels and bit your lip slightly, expecting him to speak, to stop what the girl was doing, to insist on an explanation.

Instead he gave a familiar, deep growl. You watched, blinking in genuine disbelief as his body twitched under Xi’an’s touch. Clearly the Twi’lek was just as surprised as you were, for she scrambled to fit his generous size into her mouth in a rush. Mando shuddered once more, then reached between his legs to press the palm of his hand to Xi’an’s forehead. You watched as he pushed her away.

“Get out,” he growled.

You had no idea which of you he was addressing, but took the hyperspanner your fingers were already twisted around and skittered gracelessly toward the door. Your trip across the hanger was no less hasty. You dropped the hyperspanner at Brejor’s feet.

“It’s the fuel injectors. I need the refresher,” you said stiffly, avoiding his eyes.

Without further explanation, you scampered out of the hanger and to the nearest vacant refresher. You slammed the door behind you and pressed your back against the cool metal wall.

What – what had you just witnessed?

Your hand trailed gently over your chest as you carefully replayed the events you’d witnessed in the storage room. The subtle way he’d changed in position when his visor met your eyes. The way his body arched over the crates behind him. The thick spurts of cum across the Twi’lek’s cheek.

He hadn’t been so close when you’d walked in. You knew what he sounded like when he was close. The way his breath felt against your skin as he bucked against your body, the words that tumbled from his soft, full lips…

Your hand, seemingly of its own volition, was halfway down the waistband of your pants before your realized.

Had he come for you?

Oh fuck.

Your fingers found your clit and rubbed harshly as you lingered on the thought.

He’d cum, under some other girl’s hand, seemingly from simply meeting your eyes. He’d just been getting into it when you’d spotted them. Your brain’s ability to reason fizzled as your fingers pinched and scraped over your clit. You wished they were his. You wished he’d follow you to this stupid cold ‘fresher and take you right here against the wall and…

“Hnng, Mando…” you gasped.

 It was far later than you’d like. The hanger was still crowded considering the hour, but not especially busy. You were flat on your back staring up into the fizzled engine of a cruiser that was well past its prime. You’d already pulled fifteen parts out of the engine block and the thing was still hissing at you like a disgusted loth-cat. You were covered in grime and were thoroughly annoyed that Brejor continued to hover over you like you needed supervision.

“Brejor?” you asked quietly, hopping to your feet and wiping your greasy hands on your pants

“What?” he asked sharply.

“Don’t you have… something, um, better to be doing? I can handle this one. If you finish the fighter over there, we can both be done”

Brejor actually smiled at you, a bright, toothy grin that didn’t fit his usual solemn face. He shoved away from the stack of metal crates he leaned against and tucked the holopad he was reviewing into a large pocket at his hip.

“That’s a girl, (Y/N). You’re sure you’ve got this?”

You nodded while trying to suppress a yawn. Brejor stretched, then clapped you on the shoulder before stalking off toward the heavily modified x-wing.

His absence revealed the Razor Crest to you in its entirety. You glanced at the ship, chewing on your bottom lip. He caught your eye at once.

Mando was leaning against the haul, arms folded, his helmet leaning slightly to one side. You try to ignore the thrill that ran up your spine at the sight of him watching you so intently. You blinked hard a couple times, turning your eyes to the tools in your hands. You wiped them down with a cloth Brejor had left behind, trying to shove the images from your mind of Mando in that storage room, of his head tipped backward, body sprawled across the crates…

“Hey there, gorgeous,” a voice said from somewhere behind you.

A hand gripped your upper arm and pulled you backward, away from your thoughts. You looked up to find yourself face to face with another human man. Ruddy faced, and clearly inebriated, he glanced unsubtly down your shirt before meeting your eyes.

Ah, shit.

“Jacllin,” you sighed.

The newcomer glanced between you and Mando on the other side of the hanger, his eyes narrowing.

“Thought you understood we had a date tonight, sweetheart?” he asked coldly.

You’d forgotten completely. Mando often had that effect on you.

“I um-“ you stuttered, not meeting the man’s eyes.

His grip on your upper arm tightened and he wrenched you toward him.

“Thought you’d find better dick somewhere else, huh? You little slut?” he growled.

You let out a wordless cry as his grip tightened on your arm.

“Let her go,” said a sharp voice.

You looked around to see Brejor standing at Jacllin’s other elbow, a rather hefty wrench in hand.

“This worthless little slut? Even you, Brejor, should know—”

“Let her go,” Brejor repeated, enunciating each word carefully.

Jacllin stared hard at Brejor, eyeing the wrench in his hands particularly hard. Glanced at you, then around the hanger. His eyes lingered on Mando for a second before he released your arm, shoving you hard against Brejor.

“You want her? Have her. She wasn’t much anyway. Barely enough to keep the cot warm,” and with that the other man stalked off.

Brejor set you carefully back on your feet.

“You okay, kid?” he asked, his voice remarkably calm.

You nodded, trying hard to swallow the lump in your throat. He watched you, leaning down a little to try to meet your eyes, before awkwardly patting your back.

“Well… take a minute and then get that engine done. We could both use the shut eye.”

Then he stomped back over to his own project.

You wiped your eyes on the back of your wrist and took a deep breath. Reflexively, your eyes were drawn back to the Razor Crest.

The ship stood sturdily as ever. But Mando was gone.

  The light rap on the door several hours later brought you out of a fitful half-sleep.

You’d spent longer in the shower than usually would have, managing to cry out the majority of the shame that came with your private life presumably being the gossip of the station tomorrow. Your hair was no longer the drenched and tangled mess it had been hours ago, but it was still damp on the pillow as you sat up, rubbing at your dry eyes.

The soft, though impatient knock came again.

“Hmm?” you hummed, untangling your legs from your blankets and wrapping yourself in a thin cotton bathrobe before stumbling to the door. You squinted against the light of the hall as you peered through the peephole. A familiar helmet met your vision

The door slid open and you caught the telltale glint of Baskar before you were shoved wordlessly inside. He followed without explanation. Your hands impacted his chest plate as he pushed you further into the room, and there was something wet and sticky smeared across a tiny portion of the Baskar.

“This is blood?” you said blankly, your voice still partially asleep.

He hushed you as the door slid shut behind him.

“What…?”

Mando’s movements were oddly mechanical as he pressed you against your dresser, fumbling behind you for the black scrap of cloth to tie across your eyes. He seemed almost in shock himself.  You reached behind you to grab his hand and found his glove slightly damp. He hissed quietly as you touched his fingers.

“Mando…?”

“He won’t hurt you again,” he said gruffly

“What?” you said again.

He ran his finger over the hand shaped bruise that had already formed on your upper arm, his touch uncharacteristically tender. His fingers edged the collar of your robe down your arm, revealing more and more of your skin.

“Bruises aren’t a good look for you, cyar’ika,” he said, his voice low.

It all settled into place rather quickly. The blood was…oh.

“Mando…” you whispered.

“I won’t let them hurt you, sweet girl,” he muttered.

“You shouldn’t…”

“I don’t care.”

He scooped you up into his arms and pressed you into the top of the dresser. Hastily he wrapped your face in the slim strip of black velvet – the thickest material you’d managed to find. His helmet hissed as he removed it, then clanked loudly on contact with the floor. His mouth pressed to your throat immediately.

“I don’t want to share you,” he growled against your pulse point.

You grappled at his hair, whimpering.

“I don’t want you to see anybody else,” he grumbled, nipping at your skin, “I don’t want you to think about anybody else,” he nipped again, “I want you to be right here when I want you. You understand, cyar’ika?”

“Mando…” you whined, squirming in his arms.

Abruptly his bare fingertips cradled your chin. He turned you to face him, and you knew that were it not for the blindfold, you’d be staring into his eyes.

“Just me, okay?” he said softly

“I… yes…” you said breathlessly, “Yes.”

“That’s my good girl,” he growled.

He pressed his lips to yours. His tongue pressed against your lower lip and you granted him access without thought, opening your mouth to take as much of him into yourself as you could. You entangled him in your arms, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. When one of your legs snaked around his hip, you realized he was still in the majority of his armor.

“Mando, you’re too…” you moaned, leaning away tapping your finger against his pauldron.

He snickered against your lips, then scooped you off the dresser and deposited you onto the bed in a swift motion.

“Is that what you want? More skin?” he asked, his tone unabashedly wicked as he lingered above you.

You hummed affirmatively, squirming your way up the bed to make room for him. He abruptly seized you by the wrists, pulling you up to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Take this off then,” he said softly.

He guided your hands to the plate of his armor that covered his thighs. With his fingers as your guide, you slowly removed his armor, piece by piece. When you stood wobbly to remove the chest plate, he laughed lowly and pressed his lips into your temple.

“You’re so good to me, cyar’ika,” he mused, “so soft and sweet.”

You didn’t speak, afraid to ruin the moment, as the last of his beskar tumbled to the floor. Your fingers raked at his tunic, pulling it upward until his warm skin was pressed against yours. His fingers lingered over yours, tracing over your much-smaller hands with careful caresses as he guided them to the hem of his pants. You slipped your fingers beneath them and carefully curled them around his cock, which was already half hard and desperately in need of more space. He rested his head against your bare shoulder.

“I don’t want to share you, either,” you murmured, your fingers stroking over the soft skin of his shaft.

“Hm?”

He hummed in question against your skin, but you were already sinking down, pushing him gently backward to let you kneel at the foot of the bed. You dragged his pants down with your free hand, letting his cock spring free, and traced the tip lightly with your fingertip.

“I don’t like it, Mando. I want this to be mine. Only mine,” you whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of his cock.

Your fingers traced the underside of his shaft, dancing lightly over the skin you discovered there. You felt him trembling above you already.

“Cyar’ika, I—” he choked out.

“I don’t like Xi’an touching you,” you continued calmly, “I want to show you that you only need me. That I’m special.”

You pressed your lips to his head again, letting your tongue slip out to give little kitten licks along the sensitive skin. Mando whined above you, his voice cracking slightly.

“Please,” he gasped out, “show me.”

When you took him all the way into your mouth, you had to fight the urge to gag on the size of him. You closed your eyes under the blindfold and focused on what you were doing, feeling every ridge of him along the roof of your mouth. Your tongue flattened against him to trace the vein on the underside of his cock, and you hollowed your cheeks slightly. There was nothing especially graceful about the motion, as you started to bob your head, sliding the length of him against your tongue and sucking gently, though hard enough that your cheeks caressed the sides of him. But he didn’t seem to mind. He entangled on hand in your hair and twisted the length of it around his fingers. He didn’t pull, precisely, so much as guide your head into a rhythm he liked.

“Fu- oh fuck… cyar’ika I… fuck,” he groaned.

You found it difficult but managed to quirk your lips up into what at least felt like a grin. You carried on, letting him set the pace while you explored the surface of his skin with your mouth, your tongue stroking the small slit at his head as you suckled there gently, then grazing over his shaft with your lips as he thrust himself as far back into your throat as you could manage.

“Fuck, I’ve gotta… stop, sweet girl,” he growled suddenly.

Abruptly his hand was gone from your hair as he dragged his cock from your lips. He grasped you under the arms and gently tossed you backward into the bed again.

“Dammit, girl,” he hissed, clambering on top of you, “you almost had me there.”

Your grin instantly turned to an open-mouthed groan as he sinks himself to the root into your pussy. You hadn’t been aware of how wet you were, given your intense focus on the taste and texture of his cock, but the wonderful stretch that accompanied his motion brought only a pleasing sort of pain. As his hips rocked back to dive into you again, you heard the faint squelch that indicated exactly how soaked you were.

“That’s it,” he moaned bracing his hands on either side of your head and setting a shattering pace, “that’s it. Scream for me, cry for me. Lovely thing.”

You took direction well. Each time he pounded into you, it brought another shout from the base of your throat. He leaned in closer and you felt first his lips, then his teeth as he nipped at your throat. You rocked your hips up into his, losing yourself in the sensation of his thundering, pounding thrusts.

“Ugn, ah… Mando… I’m… I’m gonna… ah…..” your voice caught off in a high whine as your legs gripped around his hips.

“Just… another couple….” He panted back.

His hips pressed into yours erratically as you felt your walls start to flutter. Abruptly your body seized completely, propelling your chest upward against his as your back arched. You shrieked what might have been his name, or may have been unintelligible syllables as you thrashed in his arms, feeling him buckle into you with a deep moan. You trembled, legs still tangled about his waist, as his cum coated your insides, leaving your entire body feeling warm and sated.

He panted, still arched over you, head pressed into your shoulder. His hair stuck to your sweat sheened skin. The fingers of both hands were entangled with your own.

“You are special, cyar’ika,” he panted lowly, “you don’t even know.”

[scaredyships]

Renegades (Din Djarin x gn!Reader) | pt. II

summary: You attempt to get settled into their new life as best as they can, and are mildly appalled at how bare-bones Mando is living.

word count: 6.5k (I guess I just don’t know how to write short things)

author’s notes: More setting the stage before progressing on to following the plot of the show. Sorgan is next chapter, I promise. But for now it's the two idiots and the tiny green gremlin getting accustomed to one another. ngl, as I got to the last little bit I just wanted to get it DONE, so apologies about any awkward writing there.

I spent so much time looking up food and kitchen-equivalents on Wookieepedia for this chapter.

Part 1 / Part 2 (you are here) // ao3 link

---

It wasn’t clear just how little you had to work with until you started to go about trying to figure out your new place as crewmate on the Razor Crest.

You’d think a full-time bounty hunter, even one that worked solo, would have a little more in storage other than the vast amount of weapons, like an extra bed roll or blankets or something. But no, not this one. He seemed more concerned with having extra firepower than additional living necessities.

You sighed, putting the lid back on the storage crate you'd opened up. You had hoped to find something other than weaponry inside, and while it wasn't exactly weapons, it sure looked like it contained canisters like the ones you saw attached to the mobile carbon-freezing unit he had on board. There were no other places to look.

Standing up straight, you turned to face the length of the hold. If you'd really wanted to, you could have tried to get Mando to let you have the space he normally reserved for housing captive bounty as a space for you to claim. But between you not having the courage, and certainly not wanting to deal with the possibility of a carbonite-frozen bounty being stored there to stare endlessly at you, it was off the table. The hold it was. It was narrow and not exactly intended as a living space, but you could make it work. There was already a dip in the wall where you stood, and with some rearranging of the crates, you could create more of a "wall" to provide some semblance of privacy - and to provide a barrier so you didn't have to deal with seeing the entire refresher unit every time you turned your head.  

Unfortunately, that's where your resources ended. The closest thing Mando had to extra bedding was the rough, heavy-duty netting he kept to tie cargo down with. Hardly suitable for what you were needing. You also had no additional change of clothes. You were already starting to feel self-conscious about it, hoping you didn't start to smell funky too quickly. A shower would only go so far when your clothes hadn't been washed.

A trip to some kind of market was needed. It was a good thing Mando was already intending to stop somewhere to refuel.

You flipped open one of the pouches on your belt, pulling out its contents. Several loose credits, and a couple credit chips. Thank Maker you still had those. With your usual living expenses having significantly downsized now that you were out of a home and all the associated bills that came with it, your budget gave you much more to work with. You had more than enough to get you what you might need. You tucked your credits back into your belt.

There was one more thing you needed to check, but didn't know where it was. The pantry. There was no doubt that Mando's current stock was meant for a single adult individual, and not two adults and a small alien child, so it would need to be supplemented anyways. But what did he already have? Had he recently stocked up, or was he nearing the last of his rations?

You made your way over to the ladder that led up to the helm, where Mando was piloting to wherever he was going to stop for fuel. The kid must've heard you coming, because his head suddenly popped over the edge of the hatch to watch you, twittering curiously. You half-heartedly waved at him, hoping he didn't try to come down by himself.

"Hey, Mando!"

The heavy sound of boots hitting the floor reverberated through the ceiling and came closer to the hatch, until the reflective helmet of the bounty hunter stared down at you.

"Where's your pantry hold at?"

He stood still for just a moment, fingers twitching at his side - a nervous tic? - and then reaching for the kid, began to climb down the ladder. You stepped back and allowed him ample space to get down, and for him to set the kid down. The little green child looked around and waited to see what the two of you were up to. Mando trudged towards a panel near the armory just across from the ladder, and pushed a switch.

"Here."

A panel on the wall swished aside and a conservator was revealed, along with a small set of shelves containing tins, ration packs, and an extremely modest set of dish ware that itself looked like it had come from a military ration pack.

It was difficult to stop your eyebrows from raising to the top of your forehead. There was so little here. And what was here, was so incredibly basic that you couldn't imagine trying to live off of it for every single meal. A few packs of basic rations, a dwindling container of mealgrain. You cautiously pulled open the conservator, and it was what you expected. More basic ration packs, a single almost-empty package of some kind of sausage links, and a couple small jars of paste that could be added to water to make a basic soup. You closed the door, and leafed through the shelves' contents. There was an old heating plate in there and a small pot, and maybe enough utensils that you could count them all on one hand. Pulling out a packet of vacuum-sealed veg-meat, watching it glisten sickeningly in the light, you turned and gave the Mandalorian a pointed look as if you were waiting for an explanation.

He was trying so hard not to come off as sheepish. But the hands-on-the-hips stance and his visor turned away from you said otherwise. He'd never had anyone come on board and inspect his pantry hold before, and while he didn't think at the time it would bother him, it was completely different now that you were down on one knee, thinly-veiled disgust on your face at the food options, looking up at him with an intense expression that could surely bore a hole through his armor. Not even the kid staring at the shelves like he had an enormous buffet in front of him softened any of the situation.

"I don't know how you live like this." You lightly tossed the veg-meat back onto the shelf, standing up and righting your clothing. Mando flipped the switch to close the panel back up, the child drooping disappointedly now that everything was shut away. He crossed his arms defensively just as you rested a fist on your hip, looking down at the child and exhaling through your nose.

"Looks like I've got my work cut out for me, huh, kid."

He tilted his head questioningly at you.

"Your 'work'?" You could hear the edge of offense in his tone.

You turned that piercing gaze back to him for a moment.

"Besides being unable to find something to make myself a bed from, and needing some kind of change of clothes, your pantry is appalling and barely suitable for one adult. Let alone two plus a small child. You told me to help out, so I'm going to help out. When we stop for fuel, I'm going to go find a market." You tapped the pouch on your belt that contained your credits forcefully enough to make the loose pieces jingle, emphasizing that you had your own means of payment.

Mando sighed. He was the one that suggested you stay, so it was nobody's fault but his own that things were unfolding like this. He might as well resign himself to it.

You knew Mando would go for a backwater world of some sort, so you didn't get your hopes up for your options at any markets. Mando let you empty out a rucksack he had sitting in the hold and use it to carry what you might find. He watched as you briskly walked away with determination, as he stood at the ship dock preparing to get the Razor Crest hooked up and refueled. The Child wanted very badly to go with you, but he forbade it and made him stay in his pod, only an arm's length away and hopefully high enough off the ground that he wouldn't try to climb out and toddle off. The small green child pouted in his blankets, staring out in the direction he had last seen you.

Mando was mystified as to why the kid took such a liking to you. Sure, he seemed friendly enough towards anyone he was allowed to interact with (not that there were many, considering his status as a bounty target), but the way he was drawn to you was different. It was almost like he recognized you from somewhere, though you both knew that wasn't possible. In all honesty, he may have been more reluctant to offer you a place on board if the kid hadn't acted the way he did, and just kept his end of helping you after losing your entire livelihood to dropping you off at a nearby planet of your choosing.

It wasn't that he didn't like you, quite the opposite. In the few times he'd gone to you for information for hunting down certain quarry, you were nothing but helpful. You asked just the right questions, made sure he knew about the societies on the planets he was going to be investigating, and also gave him what you had about lesser-known places that would make for good hiding spots. You didn't ever seem afraid of him, like others could be when a fully-armored Mandalorian carrying who knows what kind of firepower came looking for something. You treated him like any other person, maybe one you'd come to consider a friend, based on how with each further visit you'd remember what kind of things he liked to know, or just useful things in general, and tailor your information packets to it. He didn't really need to know things like which fueling stations were more suited for a ship like his and had better overall service, or which markets had more selection on weaponry for restocking purchases, or which food places were better and which to avoid at all costs. But they were there when he'd plug the data stick into his navigation computer. He got the impression you didn't do that for just any client, without an extra charge at least.

You said it yourself, you didn't know much about taking care of kids. Mando didn't, either. But two people trying to figure it out was better than one stumbling around blindly. It helped to have someone the kid liked, too. And even if it didn't directly involve watching out for him, he knew you'd make yourself useful with upkeep of the Razor Crest and any other odd jobs that might need tending to.

The ship refueling took some time, but you still weren't back by the time it was finished. Mando went to the nearest food stand at the dock to buy something for the kid to eat in the meantime - a simple bowl of Mando and the kid went inside, keeping the hold ramp down and simply waiting inside, him using that time to maintain some of his more neglected firearms in the armory. He got lost in the muscle memory of taking apart each weapon, cleaning its individual pieces, and slotting everything back together to move on to the next one.

The child chirping and standing up to clutch the edge of his pram signaled your return. Mando looked up from where he was cleaning one of his blasters, probably the fourth or fifth since he started, and there you were, walking up the ramp with the borrowed rucksack stuffed full and a few bundles under your arm. You gave him a small nod of acknowledgement and made a beeline for what he could only assume was the spot you'd chosen to be "yours", dumping the bundles unceremoniously onto the floor - except one, which you held almost gingerly - and swinging the rucksack down on top of them with a huff. You plunked down beside the pile, pulling your legs up at an angle and resting your head against the hull, exhaling dramatically.

"Can we get out of here now?"

Mando had to smirk under his helmet at how comically tired you seemed. He couldn't blame you, he felt the same way after he had to deal with purchase-related errands. Standing, he put away the gun he'd been working on and shut away the armory, and issued the command for the ramp to close.

The child clambered out of his pram onto a nearby storage crate, slipping to the ground and toddling over to you and your pile of spoils. You lifted your head to watch what he was doing. Mando watched him, too, to be sure he didn't get into anything he shouldn't. Of everything he could easily try to pick through, the kid of course went straight for the bundle you still held in your lap, reaching out but not quite touching the fabric. It was oddly puffy at the top, and tied around the bottom with some sort of twine.

"Wait, wait. I'll show you, but no touching."

You undid the twine, and in doing so Mando got a glimpse of an earthenware material underneath the fabric. You shook the fabric loose, and swept it off by gripping the corner. There, balanced in the palm of your hand, was a tiny engraved pot. Inside the pot sat an equally-tiny, gnarled tree, capped with sprays of delicately bristling greenery.

You tilted the plant towards the child, wide eyes taking in the sight. A tiny claw reached up, but halted and slowly lowered at the last moment. The corner of your mouth lifted at the kid remembering to behave.

You glanced up at the Mandalorian, who you realized had been watching the interaction the whole time. You looked quickly down at the plant and picked slightly at the gravel in the pot, almost bashfully, like you were mildly ashamed of what you'd bought.

"It's not real, but I can pretend it is." Your voice was quiet. Mando remembered the sizable collection of plants that took up an entire corner of your living quarters he had broken into hardly a day or two ago. He felt a pang of something in his chest, slightly different than the sense of guilt he felt towards your situation. Sympathy, maybe?

The synthetic plant was carefully placed on top of a storage container, far from the edges so it wouldn't fall. Your quiet demeanor suddenly shifted, and a new focus appeared as you stood, grabbing the rucksack by its handle, and made your way over to open up the pantry hold and begin unpacking its contents.

"I mostly picked up things that can be indefinitely stored, so no worries about anything spoiling." You began to pull out your purchases and put them away, careful to make sure the kid didn't scoop anything up. He was too busy being enamored with watching your hand disappear into the rucksack and pull out new item after item, like you were a magician. You said the name of each thing as you put it away on either the shelves or in the conservator: Anoat oats, shroomchips, kukuia nuts, dehydrated nuna egg, jhen honey, Kodari rice, jarred garlic, Corellian buckwheat noodles... and then some vacuum-packed fresh items; redsprouts, cuts of dewback, some kind of flatbread you weren't able to immediately identify but thought looked good, and-

"- I don't know if this is the same as what you had before, but I got more of these, too." You said as you set down a package of sausages.

Truth be told, Mando wasn't at all a picky eater, and had been content with the rations he lived off of. But watching the array of ingredients fill the shelves had him feeling like he hadn't eaten right in a very long time. And he was oddly looking forward to what you might have planned.

You put away the last of the contents, mostly flavor additives, and a clear container of nuctrose crystals for the kid, given he behaved. Shutting the panel to the pantry hold, you stood back up and took the last contents from the rucksack - an odd bound stack of something, and a few styluses. They were placed next to the little tree on the crate. You shook out the rucksack so it was flat, and handed it back to the Mandalorian with a small thanks. He took it from you without a word and hung it on a hook nearby. You went back to your other bundles and began unpacking them, shaking out the bedroll and beginning to situate it.

"Once I'm done with all this, I'm going to make something to eat. Any requests?"

Mando could only shrug vaguely. You looked off to the side, eyes darting as you no doubt mentally ran through your various options now that nothing was off the table.

"Okay, then. I'll try not to make anything too awful."

The kid was at your side the moment you'd mentioned food, and was looking up at you with wide, excited eyes. You looked down at him awkwardly, movements slowing. He stared back, audibly swallowing.

"...he's not going to leave me alone, is he."

The Mandalorian shook his head, crossing his arms and leaning against the hull, amused expression hidden beneath his helmet. You suddenly felt extremely self-conscious about simply existing in that spot and Mando standing there like he was, watching your every move. He wasn't even doing anything malicious, he was just... looking. Maker, you couldn't do anything other than glance up at him for a half-second before you had to rip your gaze back to what you'd been doing before, hoping he didn't notice. This wasn’t even your standard inability to maintain a shared gaze, this was something else. It was the armor, you told yourself. You'd always thought the Mandalorian style of armor was beautifully crafted, but there was something so different about admiring it from an image and having a flesh-and-blood being inside a suit of it, standing like that just a few feet away, staring you down.

Mando, however, didn't read any of your behavior as being flustered - just uncomfortable that you were being stared at. He could appreciate that, more than you might think. As much as he might find it interesting to watch whatever else you were going to do, he knew it was more important to allow you some space. He righted himself and strode over to the ladder.

"Let the kid help you out."

He said it so matter-of-factly over his shoulder before he began to ascend that there was no doubt it wasn't a request.

You blinked, and looked down at the child. Mando needed to concentrate on piloting. So it fell to you to be on kid-watching duty. The kid blinked back up at you, ears pricked and head tilted. You moved to unwrap the next bundle.

”Alright, kiddo. Let me finish getting all this set up, then we’ll start on dinner.”

The excited squeal as the kid toddled over to the pantry hold panel to wait for you made you chuckle.

If it wasn't the aroma of cooking that got his attention, it was definitely the sound of you urgently scolding the kid with what almost sounded like terror in your voice. Mando quickly set the controls to autopilot and rushed over to the ladder, not even using the rungs to get down to the hold. The sudden sight and sound of an entire Mandalorian slamming to the floor from above startled you so badly you nearly knocked over your little makeshift kitchen area.

His gaze landed on the child, who was staring back at him with unblinking eyes as he smacked his lips like he had just been eating something. Just out of the kid's reach, was a piece of a food wrapper, covered in teeth marks and saliva, pinched between your fingers. You had a makeshift waste bin in the other hand, into which you flung the offending piece of trash. The look on your face was nothing short of disgust.

"Does he... often... try to eat garbage?"

Mando sighed deeply, swearing to himself under his breath. He should have warned you before he just left like he did to go man the controls.

"It's not the worst thing he's tried to eat." The child’s ears flicked, a hint of smugness on his face.

You chuckled nervously, setting the waste bin out of reach of the child. You wiped your hands on a nearby rag, as Mando approached to pick the child up and move him a little bit away.

The set-up you had was fairly impressive, considering what was available. You'd taken the old heating plate out and set it on top of a storage container, and repurposed a larger rations tin intended to be heated up anyways into an extra pan, so you had more to work with besides the old pot. You'd pulled out all the utensils he had and had them laid out on top of a loose scrap of fabric, and a cluster of ingredients on another. The cutting board looked new, you must've bought that earlier. The pot had something boiling in it, and the pan, while it looked empty, had something browning in the bottom that smelled delicious.  

"Do you have any knives I can use?" You started to inspect one of the packages of meat you'd purchased earlier. "I need to dice some things."

The question wasn't did he have knives, the question was which ones was he willing to part with for kitchen use?

He paused, wandering over to the armory and peering pensively inside. You leaned over to try and watch what he was doing. The kid in turn watched you, no doubt hoping you might drop what you had so he could scarf it down.

Mando leaned into the armory to pick something out from its depths, and when he returned he displayed several small blades. They weren't all that tiny, but his broad hands made them look even smaller than they should be. You ignored that as best as you could. Your eyes flashed amongst the different blades, and you carefully pointed at two - a butterfly knife, and a small hunting knife. You didn’t dare just reach out and grab them yourself. With great dexterity Mando maneuvered them into one hand and the rest into the other, offering them to you with the blades flat in his hand and the handles presented. You carefully took them and set them beside your other utensils. Wordlessly he went to put the rest of the knives away.

You expected him to return to the cockpit, but he didn't. Instead, he moved to sit in the opening of the hole in the wall that was his bunk. You raised your eyebrows at him questioningly.

"Making sure you don't completely ruin my knives. Or let the kid eat more trash."

You huffed at that. Well, back to work.

The kid had wandered closer again and was intently watching as you prepared the food, cubing the meat, tossing it into the makeshift pan with a satisfying sizzle.

Mando never really cooked much for himself besides prepping a basic bowl of mealgrain with whatever ration packs he had on hand. Sometimes he'd build a fire whenever he was camped out on a planet's surface and roast skewers of food over the fire, he knew how to hunt and gather and field-dress, but nothing extravagant. Watching you work was something else. It was mesmerizing, the way you maneuvered between the "pan" and the pot you'd removed from the heat, adding whatever seasoning or extra ingredients with no hesitation, completely focused on what you were doing.

At some point, you picked a piece of the cooked meat out of the "pan" with a fork, blowing on it a few times before picking a corner off to taste-test it. You looked deep in thought as you mulled over what else it might need. With a shrug it seemed you decided it was alright as it was. You lowered the fork towards the child.

"Here, try."

The speed at which he snatched the morsel off the fork and downed it was incredible, you didn't even think he had time to taste it. The shine in his eyes and his ears perking up told you, however, that he absolutely wanted more. You gave him a pointed look.

"No, no more handouts. It's almost done, anyways."

The kid turned his head to look back at Mando, his face begging him to tell you that he needed more. He shook his head slowly, biting back a chuckle at how the kid pouted.

"Okay, I think it's done."

Somehow, in the time he had taken his eyes off of you to simply tell the kid "no", you had combined the contents of the pot and "pan" and were separating it out into portions - two of the larger bowls, and one of the smaller bowls that may have been a mug for the child. He could see better what it was - looked to be some sort of hearty stir-fry, the rice and meat you'd bought earlier being the most obvious part of the dish. Mando had already forgotten what you'd purchased in the way of vegetables and other seasonings, but the finished product was colorful and looked very appetizing, especially with the way the steam trailed slowly into the air from its surface.

The kid was visibly excited, bouncing on his little feet, and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Mando was looking forward to trying it too. What he wasn't looking forward to, though, was having to explain to you that he couldn't take his helmet off to eat, that he'd have to take his helping and go somewhere else where you couldn't see him. You'd never seen him with his helmet off, even in his own ship, so it only made sense that you'd ask about it eventually. He didn't know how much of the Mandalorian Creed you were familiar with. He expected more than most, considering your former occupation and being fairly savvy to various cultural practices, but he couldn't be sure.

"So, uh.. this might be weird..."

He braced himself internally, anticipating something being said about his helmet.

"Would you mind if I ate, uh... over there?" You jabbed a thumb towards the semi-walled off area you'd set up since he was last down there.

...he wasn't expecting that.

His confused stare probably only came off as a cold one through his helmet.

"It sounds stupid, but I have a hard time eating if I feel like I'm being watched. So that's where I'll be."

He nodded slowly. Well, that wasn't what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't a bad thing. It made things a little easier, at least, with him not having to give the Talk just yet.

You took your helping in one hand, used your free hand to maneuver the smaller bowl into the child's grabbing hands, and sheepishly left to your secluded area, ducking down to sit in your newly-arranged space.

The bedroll was laid out, a pile of folded clothes sitting near the foot of it. You'd located some smaller crates, one acting as a makeshift stool, another as a low table, where you sat your bowl down for a moment to get situated. In addition to the larger crates and the dip in the hull acting as a wall, you'd also tacked up a sheet on each "side" of the hull to act as a curtain - not wide enough to completely block off the hall, but enough that there was at least more of a definitive barrier that made you feel enclosed from the rest of it. The tiny synthetic tree sat perched on the low crate-table beside some of the other odds and ends you'd procured at the market. It wasn't much, but you felt less like a temporary stowaway like this.

Once you settled down, you picked your bowl back up and were about to take a bite when a familiar green head poked around the curtain. Once he spotted you, he turned back as if he was looking to Mando for permission, and then he trundled over, his own bowl carefully clutched between his hands.

Try as you might to form words to tell the kid to please go sit with Mando, or anywhere else, every sentence dried up in your throat before you could finish it. It didn't seem like he was listening, anyways, the way he didn't even so much as glance at you while you tried to speak. He was too busy getting himself settled down on the floor, and then lifting the bowl to his face to continue eating, sticky eating sounds filling the air as he shoveled spoonfuls into his mouth. That alone was enough to make you stop trying to tell him to go. It was almost shocking how noisy the kid could be with his food. You watched with something between fascination and the slightest bit of revulsion, slowly taking bites of your own food. He finished faster than you'd anticipated, greedily trying to lick the inside of the bowl to get the last morsels stuck to the sides, his eating utensil forgotten. Considering what you saw Mando's food supply was before you came on board, you didn't blame the kid for downing it like he did.

You, however, couldn't quite finish your meal. You had done your best with what you could, but something about the finished product left something to be desired in your opinion. You always had been critical of your own cooking, and knew what you were going for versus the actual outcome. With a brief glance towards the opening of your space, almost as if you expected Mando to appear, you took the kid's bowl and scraped what remained of your meal into it. He was almost vibrating with excitement when you handed it back to him, and you grimaced slightly as he started to scarf it down. Did his species get the equivalent of heartburn?

“That good, huh?”

He peered at you over the edge of his dish, tiny mouth working. He’d made fast work of it, putting the now-clean bowl on the ground. His bright eyes now lingered on your own bowl, like somehow he might find more food in it even though he just watched you empty its contents moments ago. Your morbid curiosity got the better of you and you held it out for him to take. The kid quickly took it from you, and with no hesitation, began to lick the inside to get the most out of it. You could feel a grimace trying to creep its way onto your face. The kid was cute, no doubt about that, but this was still a little gross to be watching.

A light rap on the side of the hull caught the attention of both of you, and there stood the Mandalorian in the gap between the hull wall and the curtain, empty dish held almost forgotten by his side. The kid greeted his caregiver with a small, yet surprisingly big for his size, burp. You swear you heard a quiet snort from Mando’s direction.

“You’d think he hasn’t eaten in days.” You nodded at the child, who was inspecting the bowl for anything else he may have missed. Mando shrugged lightly.

“He’s always excited for food.” He semi-consciously began turning his own bowl in his hands, still watching the little green one’s antics.

“Well, at least he liked it. It didn’t turn out quite like I wanted it to. Hopefully it was still okay.” While Mando had clearly finished his helping, with what he had apparently been living off of before, it was a fair assumption on your part that he didn’t care much for how things tasted - as long as they were edible. You really did try to go out of your way to make things palatable and not just edible, generally, so when you felt like you slipped up, you also felt the need to apologize.

“I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it.”

Truth be told, whatever you had done, it was one of the better meals Mando had had in a good while. Unfortunately for Mando, words were not at all his strong suit.

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” You said with a brief smile. With a groan you got to your feet, stooping to gather the dish-ware and utensils you and the child had used. “These can be washed in the same place I got water from behind the refresher, right--?”

“I’ll do it.” You froze in your tracks when Mando stopped you and took the things from your hands. “I’ll get the other things you used, too.” He motioned vaguely back towards where your kitchen set-up had been.

“You sure? I made the mess, I’d be okay with cleaning it up.”

The prolonged stare from the unreadable visor told you that this was not up for debate.

“...okay, if you insist.” You let yourself sink back to where you’d been sitting. The Mandalorian disappeared from your field of view beyond the curtain, and the sound of him gathering up the rest of the kitchenware and making his way to the washing area made its way to your ears. There was a quick-cleaning rack back there for exactly this kind of thing, and you could hear him loading it.

Never in your life had you expected to picture someone as stoic as this bounty hunter, doing something as domestic as washing dishes. You bit the inside of your lip to suppress snickering to yourself about it. The kid looked questioningly at you, head tilted. That alone was enough for you to crack a smile and snort.

That snort morphed into a yawn, and you realized just how tired you were. It had been a long day, dealing with people at the market, setting up your new “room”, and cooking a meal from scratch. Not to mention, the turmoil of losing your home was still a raw wound. You noticed the heavy feeling beneath your eyes that told you it was well past time for a good rest.

“Well, kid, I think I’m going to lie down for a bit.” You nonchalantly began taking your boots off, other items that would undoubtedly be uncomfortable following - your belt, your wrist pieces, some of your outerwear that would get too warm too quickly once you dozed off. The child curiously watched as you placed these things in a small pile by the crate acting as a table.

With a sigh that almost sounded like you were deflating, you laid down on the bedroll and turned onto your side. It wasn’t anything like your old bed. You hadn’t expected it to be, but the difference between your old broken-in bed and this imitation of a cot laid out on a hard, metal floor, really drove home that things were different now, with no going back. You closed your eyes, exhaling softly through your nose, the melancholy settling in now that you were more or less alone with your thoughts.

You felt a light touch on your temple, and opened your eyes to have your field of vision filled with a big pair of dark eyes staring back. The child had wandered closer and had touched his tiny clawed hand to your face, and was looking at you with concern, as if he could sense those emotions that were starting to roll around your head. You gave him a thin-lipped smile, reaching out to pat him on the head.

“I’m okay, kid, just tired.”

He made a small noise that sounded almost sad, and you didn’t miss the slight droop in his ears as he gave you a pat in return. Your smile turned a little more genuine at that.

You closed your eyes again, and quicker than you’d ever managed to before, you drifted off.

Mando took his time putting things away. When it was just himself, and the kid, there was a lot less clean-up involved. With the quality of what you’d made, though, extra clean-up was a reasonable trade-off.

Clattering noises from your corner caught his attention. It didn’t sound like organized rummaging, more like the noise made when a womp rat was going through things looking for food. He sighed. It must be the kid up to something. Why you weren’t stopping him, he didn’t know.

He put extra weight into his footsteps to make sure the kid could hear him coming, and hoped that would be enough to get him to stop. As he pushed the curtain out of the way, he was met with the sight of the child quickly turning to make eye contact - the pouches of your belt clutched in his hands with the rest of the strap tossed over his arm, and what must have once been a more organized pile of your other accessories messily pushed around. And then there was you, laid out on your bedroll, eyes closed as you slept.

Even in sleep you managed to look exhausted, but at peace. Your form was curled in loosely on itself, somewhere between defensive and haphazard, like you had fallen in that position. The crease between your eyebrows had smoothed out and was nearly invisible. You breathed deeply through your nose, almost snoring. You had a hand wedged between your face and pillow, squishing your cheek up and distorting your features.

Mando had seen plenty of people asleep. It was usually a restless sleep, followed by waking in a state of terror when they realized there was a blaster pointed at them and he was there to take them in for a bounty.

Seeing you in a genuine state of relaxation, completely vulnerable, was jarring. He wasn’t used to it. He didn’t even let himself get to that point when he rested.

With everything you’d dealt with lately, though, you deserved to have a good, deep sleep. You were safe here on the Razor Crest with him.

The Mandalorian shook himself mentally from watching your sleeping form. It was strange to be staring like he was. He bent down on one knee to untangle the child from your belt and lift him carefully. The little one cooed, looking up at the armored man questioningly.

“Come on, kid. Let’s give them some space.” He stood back up, shifting the child into one arm and leaving as quietly as he could. The little one peeked over Mando’s shoulder at you until you were out of his line of sight, and then swiveled around to watch where he and the bounty hunter were headed.

Very carefully, the child was maneuvered into his sling so Mando could climb up the ladder to the cockpit with both hands. Once on his feet again, the child was deposited into his pram, and Mando took his place in the pilot’s seat.

Now that there was fuel in the tank and supplies on board for everyone, it was time to get back to finding somewhere to hide out.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 11

<- Chapter 10

Summary: The end of a journey and the start of a new one

The world was beautiful—bright blue skies stretched overhead with a few lazy white cotton puffs drifting unhurriedly through and topping distant snow-covered peaks. Insects fluttered and chirped in the afternoon heat from the tall grass that lined the dirt road at the center of town, where tiny white and yellow flowers bloomed. Inside the gloomy church, you hadn't even noticed what was waiting just outside.

It was not a peaceful summer day, however. Word travels fast in a small village, though not always well or with accuracy, and a general chaos turns in the air—villagers carrying buckets of water clamor toward the smoke and others, still screaming, clamor to get away. It won’t be long before men with muskets come to hunt the great beast who had caused the calamity and abducted a bride from her wedding.

A large but fast warmblood waits, loosely tied to post just outside the church door. You could swear you’ve seen it somewhere before.

The creature sets you on its back side-saddle, before climbing on behind you and spurring the horse to a gallop. Behind you, a handful of villagers stare after you in shock.

“We shall be long gone before they recover enough to come after us,” he says, a laugh brightening the edges of his voice. You grin into the wind, fingers grasping at a handful of chestnut mane. You’re both exhilarated, and can hardly believe what just happened.

As you continue down the road, reality has to catch up sooner or later. Fear creeps back into your mind.

“Where are we going? What will we do?!”

“Are you not happy? You came with me of your own accord...”

“Of course I’m happy! “Of course I’m happy! You rescued me from that nightmare.” You’re not sure how to show your affection while trying not to fall off a galloping horse, so you nuzzle your face against the arm he has wrapped around you. “Only, we still have the same problem we had yesterday,” you frown.

“In truth, I may have wallowed and wasted away in self-pity, doubting if interference on my part was wanted, but I was encouraged to action. There is something that may assuage some of your apprehension.”

He slows the horse and turns its reins down a narrow path into the forest, barely visible from the road. You ride for several minutes, ducking sharp branches that tug at your dress, winding through the undergrowth until it opens up upon a small clearing at the edge of the river. The water is cool and clear, far calmer than the angry brown churning that overflowed the banks in the spring.

“This is where we first met, isn’t it?”

He slides himself off the saddle and lands softly in the tall grass. Taking the reins under the animal’s chin, he leads you toward a figure waiting at the far side of the meadow, under the dappled shade where the forest line hangs just over the riverbank. A smaller horse grazes idly beside them. He raises a large hand and waves to them. The figure waves back, mahogany curls bouncing with the movement, the light catching on their long, fussy sleeves.

It couldn’t be.

“Stop where you are!” she barks as the creature approaches too close. “Fifteen feet, remember our deal?” She holds up a hand in front of her eyes and squeezes them shut as if to erase him from her vision.

“Bess?” you stammer.

She looks up at you with big brown eyes and smiles. “Sorry for missing your wedding. I heard it sucked.”

You jump off the horse and nearly knock her her flat with the force of your hug. “What are you doing here? How did? What? And you didn’t—” your mouth is running at a million miles a minute yet you can’t quite manage to articulate words.

“Alright, alright,” she pats your back. “I am astonishing, I know.” She steps back and gestures to a large leather saddle bag next to her on the ground. “While everyone was distracted, I packed everything you’ll need to survive. Baked some hardtack special for you, so you shouldn’t starve for at least a month, though I recommend foraging something to supplement it.”

“This… this was your idea?” Your jaw hangs open. “But I… But you...” Your open jaw wobbles in disbelief, your last memory of Bess wide-eyed with terror and screaming.

She tucks a hand on her hip and looks aside. “I saw what I saw, and I was shocked. Frankly, it would have been a lot to process even without a damned—whatever you call him—involved. I didn’t say anything of course, but it was distressing. I didn’t know what to think. That you were cavorting with the legions of Hell after all? Then I recalled your strange behavior of late—your distraction, your mysterious smiles and contented sighs. Always hiding away in that barn yet refusing any aid with your chores. After I could breathe again it was not difficult to put together. I’m not a dummy, dummy,” she smiles.

“Suddenly they were forcing you to marry Ferdinand. I knew you would never do so willingly, but I had no power to stop their machinations. I didn't know what to do, so on a hunch, I checked your barn and found this brute curled on the floor with ten cats, weeping into one of your chemises. Thus I recruited him to my aid.”

The creature steps forward and gestures a large hand toward Bess in a friendly manner. “It was she who secured the horse and supplies, and who suggested—”

Bess waves him away sharply, clamping a hand over her eyes. “I’m sorry, guy, I cannot even look at you.” She shudders deep and sickeningly to her core. “You are fucking crazy,” she says to you, “I don’t get it. But this fellow makes you happy, doesn’t he?” You nod. “Then I am happy for you. This town has been a prison for you ever since we were children; I watched it draining your life, your dreams. So take your scary boyfriend and get out of here!”

Tears sting the back of your eyes. The creature was right—all along, Bess would have understood. Instead of confiding in a friend, you let fear lead you by the nose into a trap from which the two of them busted you out just before the door could snap shut behind you forever.

“I should have told you.” You wipe your eyes, laughing softly. “I’m an idiot.”

“No…” she coos soothingly, with some hesitation. “Well, yes. A little. But we love you.” She makes a visor over her brow with her hand and points in the general direction the massive, ominously looming creature is standing. “He loves you quite a lot, you know.”

“I know,” you smile, blessing him with a gaze affectionately returned (though he keeps his distance from the flighty Bess, occupying himself by packing up the horse). “He’s wonderful.”

“It takes all types,” she shakes her head. “Alright then,” she clears her throat, steeling herself, “Ride as hard as you can until you reach the next town. Blake is our fastest, strongest horse and should be able to bear the weight for a sprint of that distance. That should be enough of a head start to then disappear on foot, especially if nobody knows your intended destination is Geneva. If you would be so kind as to return the horse to the livery stable there—it is run by my cousin, and he won’t ask any questions. When you reach your destination, I expect a letter or I’ll think you’re dead.”

“You’re not coming with us?”

Her eyes grow wet. “It isn’t my journey. This place is not so much a cage for me as it has been for you. Though one day, I hope, we shall meet again.”

“I will miss you.” Your lower lips quivers with unspoken sorrow. She hugs you fiercely and protectively one last time before pulling back with a sniffle.

“Now go on! You must hurry before they come looking for you.”

The creature reaches down a hand. You clasp it, warm and strong in its grip, and he pulls you up onto the back of the muscular horse. Bess waves, running after you on foot as he kicks the horse into a brisk canter. “Don’t forget that letter!”

Tears stream down your face as you turn in the saddle and watch Bess and the river grow smaller and smaller, and eventually be swallowed up by the forest. You inhale deeply and let out a long, shaking breath.

“Are you all right?” the creature’s question vibrates in his chest, pressed to your back.

“Yeah.”

He is silent for awhile. The wild exhilaration of your escape from the church has withered and been replaced by a mournful determination to move forward. To begin new lives. The reality is not so glamorous as you reminisce on all the things you are leaving behind—Bess, Edelweiss, your flock of chickens and barn cats, the moss-covered boulders that were your secret place since childhood—yet you are ready to build that new life, whatever challenges lie ahead. You’ll have the best help one can hope for.

You let your weight shift back so your head rests against the creature’s chest. His long black hair flutters around you in the wind. He leans down and presses gentle kisses on your hair and your shoulders, and a comforting warmth spreads beneath your skin. You feel safe and cared for.

“Do you hate me? You must hate me,” you murmur into the wind, but his sharp ears pick up every word.

“I love you,” his chest rumbles. “You are my life, as much as the air that fills my lungs. Why should I hate you?”

“I was useless. I gave up. I was so terrified, I gave up on us. How can you ever forgive me?”

“You saved my wretched life long ago, dear angel.” He holds the reins in one fist, and slides his other hand under your arm, caressing your side and splaying out his fingers over your belly, smoothing the fabric of the gown. The gesture is warm and possessive, and keeps you secure on the speeding horse as you melt into him, intoxicated by his touch. “You dragged me out of misery into the light—cared for me with patience and love I never believed myself deserving of. You stood beside me and tended my wounds of both flesh and of my soul. Your company alone is a gift of which I was made unworthy. I have always wanted to thank you for saving me.”

“Now we’re even, huh?” you laugh.

“No,” he replies softly and insistently. “I think I would like to continue paying you back.”

The hand he had rested on your belly glides up to tip your chin toward him, and he presses a precarious kiss to your lips. A small jolt of hooves over the terrain sends you clutching for mane, but his steady hand darts back around your waist to keep you balanced.

“I will have to exact more payment once we have arrived on solid ground yet again,” you promise sinfully, resting a hand over his and squeezing it. “I want to kiss all of the scars on your handsome face.”

His chest vibrates with an eager hum of anticipation.

As you ride away from your old life, you feel something changing deep in your bones. You are already farther from your home than you have ever been, and ahead of you is the wide horizon of blue skies speared by sharp mountain peaks. You look up at the closest mountain to the road. It is not one you think you have seen before, although its shape is hauntingly familiar, like the face of a childhood friend, after years of separation, as an adult.

“What mountain is that?” You point to it.

“It is the white-crested peak of the great mountain that overlooks your town. The one I greatly admired from the window of the hayloft. We face its west slope, now.”

A wave of excitement for the future surges through you like electricity. What will your life look like from a fresh angle?

[kaistarus]

Hell Week

Pairing: Bakugou X Reader

Words: 2.4K

Summary: Marching Band AU--Getting ready for marching season means hell week. Six hours a day in the ninety degree weather leaves few perks except everyone’s wearing as few clothes as possible to prevent heat stroke. Also, you don’t mind spending as much time staring at some people as possible...

Notes: I just miss being outside and good weather and groups of friends and you know what encompassed all of that? Marching season. So here’s to that.

Ko-Fi // Master List

“You were a half-count fucking late getting to your spot, Pikachu.”

Kaminari was attempting to kick himself up into a handstand while Bakugou lectured him. “I was not,” he kicked over with too much force and landed on his back with a huff, locking eyes with Bakugou from the ground. “Maybe you need to get your eyes checked.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

You watched the drumline begin their usual antics with an amused smirk. It didn’t matter how many years Bakugou had been section leader he’d never be able to reign them in.

Taking a deep breath you let your trumpet hang loose from your grasp as you relaxed your forearms atop your head. You’d been out on the field for only a few hours, but the mid-summer temperature was already nearing ninety degrees and that alone was depleting your energy. The sun’s harsh ray’s were baking your skin and if it wasn’t for the fact that you, like many of your band-mates, had already stripped yourselves of your shirts you’d be soaked in a thick layer of sweat.

You wiggled your toes in the football field’s soft grass, snickering as Uraraka made mocking gestures behind Bakugou’s back while he listed off minor mistakes their section had already made.

“Are you checking out Bakugou again?” Mina’s sudden cheerful voice made you jump.

“No,” you blurted unconvincingly, causing a devious smirk to grow on her lips.

“So the boy you constantly flirt with is in the general direction you’re zoning out in and I’m supposed to believe you’re not checking him out?”

You glanced back over your shoulder to where Bakugou had given up scolding his group and was instead flipping through his setbook for the next position. You gave him a quick once-over while gnawing on your bottom lip and nodded your head. “Uh-huh.”

“Very convincing.”

“And I’m just supposed to pretend you haven’t been checking out the clarinet section all morning?” You turned on her with a raised brow and her face tinted red. “What’s his name? Sero?” 

She crossed her arms slowly while pointing her nose to the sky. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You narrowed your eyes, but decided to stop while you were ahead. When you snuck a peak back at Bakugou you felt a flush creep up your face when you made direct eye contact with him. In classic fight or flight, you froze like an idiot at being caught checking him out.

He simply raised an eyebrow with a scowl that read ‘you trying to fight?’ which made you roll your eyes. He would jump to that first. You stuck your tongue out at him teasingly and weren’t surprised when he sent you a lazy middle finger. From anyone else you’d be furious, but coming from Bakugou you simply scoffed, shaking your head with a lopsided smile.

Maybe the heat was getting to you, but you thought you noticed his lips quirk into a quick smile as well.

“Alright, enough flirting,” Mina nudged your stomach. “Break’s over.”

You pouted at her comment, but at the same time didn’t deny it. Midoriya’s voice came sternly from the front of the field where he stood atop a makeshift wooden platform. You squinted beneath the sun’s intensity and cursed yourself that after four years you still somehow managed to leave your sunglasses on your dresser at home. He announced the next movement, so you and Mina searched where to go in the set book hanging loosely around your neck by a cheap lanyard. Your target was a few steps back and on the forty yard line.

Once everyone had positions located Midoriya began the countdown, and when the metronome began you were tip-toeing back 16 counts to your position. You saw Mina matching with you perfectly in your peripherals as usual, but you grumbled when you saw the rest of the line. The shape ended up as anything but the arch it was supposed to, and at least three trombones were out of step.

Fucking freshman.

“Hey, it’s our favorite trumpets.” Kirishima’s cheerful voice rang out behind you. You felt heat rise to your cheeks before you turned around. How did you not notice the next position was this close to the drumline?

“Sup nerds?” Mina quipped back causing Kirishima to pout.

“Dealing with Bakuboy like usual.” Uraraka said, making Bakugou’s eye twitch.

“At least he’s not making us carry instruments the first day,” Kaminari tapped his head with his drumsticks. “I almost passed out last year.”

“He’s growing soft on us.” Kirishima punched Bakugou’s shoulder lightly and Bakugou scowled back at them.

“No fucking respect.”

You giggled lightly. “Poor Bakuboy.” You teased, and he sneered down at you. “Come on, you guys win best drumline every year.” You rubbed the spot between your brows then pointed to his forehead. “Relax a little, you’re going to get premature wrinkles.”

“Winners don’t relax.” He said while loosening his shoulders slightly.

You let out a breathy laugh and turned back to the front of the field, squinting to see if Midoriya was finished scolding specific sections and wondering what was taking so long. You spotted him talking to the french horns--Todoroki--bright red and stuttering. You really wish you would’ve brought your sunglasses, hat, visor… anything to help you see that.

“Can you not see or some shit?” Bakugou asked. “You seriously fucking forgot sunglasses or something?”

You felt a jab of annoyance at his accusation because, although you had, it was none of his business. “I’m not a drumline. Don’t get mouthy with me.”

His nose crinkled at your response. “I was just fucking asking.”

You rolled your eyes.

Midoriya retook his place atop the platform at the front of the field and began instructing how you’d be repeating the movements starting at the beginning of the performance. Majority the band groaned and you began flipping through notecards with a sigh, trying to remember where your starting location even was.

“Hey,” Bakugou started. You barely registered him tossing an object at you in time to catch the baseball cap he’d been wearing. “It’ll be annoying if we’re constantly repeating sets because you keep fucking up.”

You frowned. You could argue that you had already gone most of the morning without making a single mistake, but why waste the breath. You raised a skeptical brow.

“What about you?”

“I have sunglasses in my drawstring on the sidelines,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his athletic short’s pockets as he wandered toward the back of the field. “It’s not a big fucking deal.”

You pouted, watching him retreating back as Kirishima ran up and gave him a hard shove, inciting some sort of argument between the two. The hat weighed heavy in your hands as you made your way toward the twenty yard line mid-field. Mina waited for you with a knowing smirk.

“Cute hat,” she said as you adjusted the faded material onto your head. You tried not to grimace at the cool ring of sweat that already coated the inside of the cap, fighting through the shiver it sent down your spine.

“It’s just a hat.”

“From Bakugou?” Mina tapped the bill of the cap roughly, pushing it down over your forehead. “He’s not exactly the generous type.”

You pouted, pushing the hat out of your vision. You glanced back at the ash-blonde who was still being nudged by a grinning Kirishima and you tapped your fingers rapidly against the side of your trumpet. Mina was probably just overreacting. This didn’t mean anything… right?

Midoriya began counting down once again and you brought your attention away from Bakugou’s possible intentions and back to your form, straightening your back and placing the mouth of your trumpet against your lips. The last hours of the first day of hell week were spent repeatedly running through the first half of the performance until the entire band could move in time and successfully reach their positions. Once the sun reached peak height and you felt every muscle in your body aching you only had the energy to focus on three things: a full stomach, cold water, and taking a long nap in your air-conditioned room.

When the six hour practice came to an end you fell back onto the plush grass with a groan, too exhausted to complain when Mina laid her own sweaty body across your stomach.

“I’m starving.”

Too tired to respond you simply nodded in agreement. A round of hollering came from the track and you both weakly lifted your heads to inspect the growing commotion. Your band director, All Might you’d nicknamed him, was walking towards the asphalt heaving several large boxes of popsicles. At the sight, you and Mina slowly rose to your knees as the cold treats called out to you.

“I’ll get the goods if you pack the stuff.” You held your trumpet toward her and she took one glance at the growing crowd before nodding in agreeance.

You gripped a patch of grass to help hoist you off your butt. Mina took off for the bleachers where you’d stored your cases and water bottles and you lazily strided toward the mass of bodies grabbing for frozen goods. The thought of going into the crowd was immediately erased, so you stood at the back resolved in waiting for the underclassman to be done.

“Hey.”

You pivoted around slowly, body heavy and unwilling to do anything at regular speed, and you raised an eyebrow at Bakugou who was offering you two popsicles. You glanced between him and the crowd of noisy underclassmen confused because Bakugou definitely didn’t go in there, so how did he get these?

“How did you--”

“Not important.” He thrusted them forward again but you just narrowed your eyes. A few freshmen walked past you both wearily before sprinting toward the dwindling mass of people surrounding your band director. Your eyebrows shot to your hairline when he started avoiding your gaze.

“Did you bully some freshmen out of their popsicles?”

“I didn’t bully freshmen.” He said, although his grin said otherwise.

“You can’t bully the freshman, Bakugou.” You said as a smile crept its way onto your face, as well. You hesitated before taking the tainted goods from his grasp. “They’re people too.”

He snickered. “They need to grow spines somehow.” He gestured toward your head. “I think you’ve still got something that belongs to me.”

You cocked your head to the side, mulling his statement over before your hand flew to the rim of his hat. “Oh,” You pulled it off with a chuckle. “I completely forgot I had it on.” You held it out to him and instead of grabbing it right away his hand flexed, hesitating. You waved it around in front of his face. “You good?”

“You were--uh--good today.” He stumbled out, cringing at his words. “Did decent or whatever.”

You let your arm fall loosely to your side and narrowed your eyes. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

He dug his foot into the ground. “Fucking… maybe. I dunno.”

“Thanks,” you nibbled on your lower lip. “You didn’t suck either.”

His eye twitched, but you saw the corner of his mouth lift into a smirk. “So, uh, are you free right now?”

Your eyes flickered to the stands where Mina was currently leaning against the railing, chatting up a blushing Sero. You didn’t think she’d be too disappointed if you made a quick change in plans. “I can be.”

“Cool,” Bakugou ran a hand through his sweaty locks causing them to stick up wilder than usual. You suppressed a snort. “I was gonna get food if you wanted to come.”

Boy did you. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Fucking finally,” you heard Uraraka’s exasperated exclaim come from the bleachers above you. Beside her, Kirishima and Kaminari leaned heavily against the metal railing with suggestive smirks on their faces. “That was honestly painful to watch.”

“Round face, what the fuck.” Bakugou stomped over toward his friends while you covered your mouth to stop from laughing. “Don’t you idiots have to be fucking obnoxious somewhere else?”

“Not for another few hours.” Kaminari shrugged.

You allowed a bubble of laughter to escape which only served to annoy Bakugou further. You spotted Mina waving for your attention a little further down the bleachers, so you jogged the track to stand beneath her at the rails.

“Change of plans,” you said as you got in hearing range, simultaneously winding up for her popsicle toss. “I’m cancelling our lunch plans.”

“Same,” Mina easily caught the popsicle after you lobbed it. “Sero’s taking me to get burgers.”

You hummed suggestively as you eyed down the boy a few stairs back packing up his instrument. “Bakugou’s taking me to get ramen.” The food hadn’t been discussed, but that’s what you were craving so he could deal..

“Good for us.” Mina winked. Before you could turn around Mina chucked the marching band t-shirt you’d stripped off this morning at your face. “Might want to actually get served when you go out though.”

You felt your face heat up as you peeled the fabric off it. “Thanks.”

“Ready?” Bakugou came up behind you, swinging his car keys around his finger.

“Born ready.”

He snorted and began guiding you toward the school’s parking lot by the small of your back. “You’re such a fucking dork.”

Maybe. But he’s the one asking you on dates.

You unwrapped your popsicle, pouting at the realization that over half was now a puddle at the bottom of the plastic wrapping. As you disappointedly licked at the pathetic remains of your dessert you adjusted Bakugou’s hat back onto your head since apparently he had no plans of taking it back. His eyes lingered on you a little too long after that and you raised a brow, smirking cockily.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he scratched the back of his neck. “I like the hat thing. It’s fucking cute. Or whatever.”

Your heart accelerated at the compliment and you ducked your head down to try and cover your blush. The hand that hung loosely by your side grazed against his momentarily before you reached his car and your chest squeezed at the soft smile he sent you before walking around the vehicle. You took a deep breath and turned back to the field where the rest of your band-mates were trickling out into the parking lot behind you.

Apparently, this was going to be a very good marching season.

[the-terminal-archive]

The beast wouldn’t stop approaching, getting a scoff from this new one before Ametrine before they went after it. The small gem didn’t dare look at what followed… Seeing so much blood be spilled, even from a monster, it...Huh! It terrified them more than it should have! They hugged themself, sitting against a wall of the tunnel as the splitting headache finally came back to them. Once this happened, they thankfully couldn’t hear the noise of the fight anymore, but it was replaced by loud ringing instead. Not much of an improvement, they’ll give it that, but… It was better than hearing the screams from before.

It was as if they were taken and put into a vast emptiness, only comforted by a single pitch. They liked to think it was Tsavorite communicating to them, even if it was far from the truth of the matter. It made them feel a little better, as they tried to think in their deafening mind of what the other would possibly say!

…

…

...oh. Oh, that’s right!!! A specimen!!! Ah, it seemed that the scientist really was right about these mines all along. That’s funny! So funny, they didn’t realize that the other being was dragging them along, past the beast and deeper into the mines as it roared in agony. They heard faint calls from the new one, none of which was replied to.

Tsavorite...How silly, that they knew someone else was here! But...why weren’t they active for decades? Why weren’t these monsters here all that time ago?

The emptiness kept expanding around them, and soon enough they forgot where they were.

...Please, stop driving yourself into me. It hurts. It all hurts, as bad as you are feeling now!

The sentence wasn’t said by someone else around them, but...it was a familiar voice.

Mmm, Gymp...something or another. There was a reason Tsavorite did what they did!! There was a reason Ametrine was here now!!

...But, at the same time, without a preset personality...who even were th-

“Ametrine!”

“H-HUH?! ...Oh! Hi!!! Hello! Good morning!!!” The small quartz giggled, coming out of quite the daze.

“Goodness, if you had stayed like that a moment longer, I would have called you petrified and left! Even if it’s only jewelers who can do that.”

“OH!!! JEWELERS!!!”

“Uh….”

“Um!!! So, I was going to ask Savvy about all of that!!! But I didn’t get the chance! What are they?”

“You don’t even ask my name…? Ehm, well, jewelers are those who [REDACTED] out of fellow gems. They… aren’t the nicest of people.” The explanation of it was brief (It was longer, but cut down so they would not see you), but it didn’t stop the other from shivering. There was something watching.

“You feel it too, yes? That’s their gaze. Thank goodness the seeing stone isn’t the one looking right now…”

“How can you tell?”

“It rarely watches people, but when that one’s sights are laid upon you? It is the most horrifying feeling one can have. For that, I simply say not to have further thought of them. The jewelers don’t like being recognized.” The newcomer sighed, and in the moment they closed their eye to let this all pass in thought, they could feel the bi-colored gem poke at their face.

“...What’s with all the weird growth on your face?” The unnamed one wouldn’t reply for a moment when the cluster of crystal was mentioned, gazing just a little too far above to meet the other’s eyes.

…

Actually, they weren’t replying at all.

“Do you have to stay here to keep all of these weird things away from the world?”

“...Look, I should probably go. I have things to look for.”

“W-Wait!!! Let me come with you!”

“So long as you don’t try to bother me about this any further, I’ll allow it.”

“Can...Can I ask one thing?”

“...Fine.”

“What...was that?”

“It was a messed up attempt at forming a new gem. This happens all the time in these mines, yet all of the ones I’ve seen so far were made of quartz.”

“And...you just...fought it off?”

“All of them have weak points. We have the same strength as them, and all, so the beasts aren’t as scary as they first come off to be. I normally chop off all the various limbs, then go for whatever seems to make them keep thriving. Could be the head, the heart, or some other remaining piece of them.” Such talk was so morbid, yet this one spoke as if it was commonplace. “Perhaps you should get this ‘Savvy’ of yours to find a means to give you something to defend yourself with. ...Ah, but… I can understand why they didn’t.”

“Huh?”

“...You’re plated, aren’t you? With silver.”

“Uh...I’m in front of you, aren’t I?”

“I know. Forgive me if I was slow to realize. You may never get a weapon, I’m afraid...you poor thing.” They seemed...solemn, almost? “Why would the person that did this ever let you outside…? You could get scuffed…”

“Well!! It was just to this place! I’m sure they thought nothing would get me.”

“And how deep do you travel here?”

“Just to the first sight of magma!”

“Ah… you really know nothing of this place, then.” Standing up, they’d offer their hand to the other. “I could show you what the deepest reaches of this place has. And...let’s just say I’ve been fighting for a sizable amount of time.”

“Oooh, you wanna show me??? Woah!!! It’s gonna be so warm there!!” They didn’t even take the taller one’s hand, jumping up and bouncing a little. “How long of a walk is it gonna be?”

“Well, with the fastest route...definitely not long. I happen to know a shortcut or two to get down there. I will have to do some general things there, checking the gems that have started forming, you know, the usual.” They turned away, starting to lead ametrine along.

“Shortcuts… did you find all of them fighting those monsters?”

“Indeed I did. It’s naught but a blessing amid thousands of curses.”

A silence ran through them both, Ametrine’s visor flickering every so often as they took in new information. This place was surprisingly massive, yet whoever this was went through it as water ran through a river.

Eventually, they’d drop onto a narrow bridge, a pitfall on either side straight to molten rock.

“It’s so cozy here!!”

“Mhm...we’re almost there. I haven’t carved out much in a long while, but I did enough to expose three forming gems within these mines. Should any of them form properly, the archivist will add them to the roster…”

“Roster?”

“There are so few gems that exist right now… Having another is something they will not overlook.”

“...Oh! That’s neat!!!”

“Not really, as all of the others that used to be in this deposit have turned out to be...Atrocities. They keep multiplying, too, and it’s odd. It’s as if every time I kill one, another forms. And...letting them free is something I must never do, yet… This stalemate has gone on for so long. I feel as if my efforts will simply be futile in due time.”

“Why? Isn’t everyone here made of quartz or something?”

“Do you know what forms in kimberlite?” The cyborg shook their head, prompting a sad smile from the one who couldn’t seem to properly look at them.

“Diamonds. Given enough time, the beasts will take form as one of them, and I won’t be able to stop whatever it does. I...I don’t wish for this, so I’ve attempted to force inclusions into myself. It’s not the same as reforming myself into someone entirely different, but...at this point, I don’t have much time...and I don’t have many options.”

“What will they do when they get out there?”

“They will tear this world to shreds...if that wasn’t obvious enough.”

“Then, I need to get a weapon! I wanna pew-pew at people!! Violence is something that usually makes me spacey, but if it’s to save a lotta people, then!! I don’t mind doing it!!”

“...You’re quite brave...What can you do, then?”

“Mmmm, just lift magnets and metal...basic things!”

“You exhibit something green gems have… Hm.”

“Well, I live with one! They’re very nice, and I’m sure they’d love to meet you!”

“Ah, well, I’m not too keen on meeting people...my hands are a little full, but… You do seem like the fighting type. Perhaps you could stay a little while, and I could teach you some basics.”

“Woah!!! Really?” There was a nod from them, causing Ametrine to grin and hug this new friend. “Thank you so much!!! Uh...Uh...hm...your name is….oh! I never asked for it!”

“Call me Phantom Quartz. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

[enderprtl]

chasing down the devil part three

we are Not Done (there’s one more part too), here is part 3 of me and @betweenlands​‘s shadow au fic (by the wonderful @mine-sara-sp​) for reason you shouldn’t piss off the shadow-vex

p.t 1// p.t 2 

WARNINGS FOR FIC: BODY HORROR, ANOTHER BIG ASS FUCKING FIGHT, BLINDNESS (APEX CAN’T SEE). 

iii.

Scar’s shadow and Paladin stood in eerie silence over Apex’s sleeping form, both heads tilted in curiosity at the aggressive shadow (who was currently out cold).

Paladin kicked him with their foot. “He’s strange.” 

Scar’s shadow just hummed in response - its partner had come back with nasty wounds, the magnum opus being a gouge in the center of the shadow. Paladin, of course, had found it hilarious, sticking a shadowy hand through the hole, giggling wildly as the two shadow-vex conversed. The knight had begged them to be able to go see Apex, wanting to see if the shadowy arm Avarice had described was still there. 

It wasn’t.

Paladin kicked Apex again with their foot, backing up quickly as Apex stirred. Paladin giggled. “He’s waking up! Keloid, look!” 

Apex dragged himself up off the ground, head snapping towards the sound of Paladin giggling, lip already curled into a snarl. “Keloid. Move closer so I can kill you.” He still couldn’t see - the visor wasn’t exactly organic, it wasn’t going to grow back onto his face.

He could feel Keloid’s cold glare in response. “Why? I could easily crush you here. You cannot see.” 

Paladin giggled softly, skipping across the room, dragging their fingers across the gouges in the wood. “Did you do this?” 

Keloid stared down Paladin with disappointment, and Paladin’s grin fell into a soft pout - he went and stood behind a decaying statue, blending in with the shine of the room. 

Apex pushed himself up further, onto his knees, standing shakily without his sight as he tilted his head to the side, tried to pinpoint where exactly Keloid - Scar’s shadow, it had to be - was. He took a step forward, pounded one fist against his battered chest.

“I can still move. You aren’t safe.”

Keloid laughed - not a garbled or glitchy sound, but something soft, real, like Scar’s loud, jovial laugh from a room miles away. It stepped forward, using a hand to hold Apex’s jaw firm, making him face it eyes on.

“You have no weapons, you have no eyes. You are useless, android.” it said, voice a glitchy and droning sound.

Paladin smirked from their hiding spot. “What did you do to Avarice?” They climbed up the statue and sat criss-cross atop it, leaning forward.

Apex tilted his head towards the sound of Paladin’s voice, twisted his face into a grin. “Move a little closer and I’ll give you a demonstration.” He grabbed at the hand he knew was somewhere near his face and held onto Keloid’s arm with as tight a grip as he could muster. “Unless you wanna volunteer, shadow-vex?”

Keloid let out a low growl, only to compose itself. It wasn’t going to act a fool, not like Avarice; it tightened its grip on his jaw, another free arm holding up his right arm, gripping it with malice. Its voice was still soft, emotionless. “It came out of this one, did it not?” 

Paladin kept giggling, their head rolling back with a loud laugh that bounced around the room and grated against Apex’s ears. “I want to see him do it! Keloid, make him do it!” They tilted their head and pouted, wide yellow eyes going wider. 

Apex gritted his teeth, curled his free hand into a fist, tried to step closer to Keloid. He couldn’t see anything - his vision was filled with yellow light and pretty much nothing else - but he knew generally where the shadow-vex’s body mass was, now. “Why d’you want to know? Cub’s shadow is the bruiser out of you two, do you really think you’re going to survive this fight?” He spat towards the ground, doing his best to glare up at Keloid without actually having eyes.

Paladin giggled, jumping down from their little seat and skipping over to stand right besides Keloid - they looked over the dull and blurred yellow outlines of Apex’s eyes before drawing closer to him. “Oh, don’t underestimate Keloid! It looks harmless, but it could kill you in a sundry of ways!” They poked his cheek, voice too cheerful and bright, and he lunged at them - a bit too slowly, though, his hands caught nothing but empty air.

“So can I,” he snarled. 

Paladin cackled, a cheerful, almost terrifying laugh - it bounced off walls, it rang in Apex’s ears… and it was infectious. He felt the ends of his lips pull up into a smile, fought back hard against the urge to laugh and instead curled his grin wider and angrier.

He lunged again, wrestling out of Keloid’s loosened grip as he smashed directly into Paladin, grabbed them by the shoulders. “You wanted to see what I can do, huh?” 

Paladin grinned. “You fight dirty.” They tilted their head back, then smashed the bridge of their helmet into his face. “So I think I will too.”

Apex felt his nose break, saw stars against the yellow background of noise on his blind eyes, and something in him snapped again - he started laughing, a low, garbled chuckle as he wiped his face off, as his jaw distorted out of place. “All right. My turn.”

He pulled Paladin closer, yanking them forward by one arm as he raised his right arm again - felt it distort and crack, a new limb clawing out of his shoulder as his ordinary arm hung uselessly by his side - and slammed one shadowy fist into their face, knocking them flat on the ground.

Paladin spat something yellow, the shit-eating grin growing wider on their face. They reached up and brought down their visor, whistling softly. “Whoops.” 

Something yanked Apex right off Paladin and slammed him into a wall - the thick, glitchy growling coming from it confirmed what he suspected, Keloid had ambushed him. He rubbed his head, pushed himself up off the ground once more, tried to figure out where the two enemy shadows were in the haze.

"This is what I mean. Your precious little Paladin really can't fight someone who's blind and wounded on their lonesome? Gotta help them out?" Back to his feet. One shaky step forward. "Trophy got a little rusty all locked away with nothing to fight? Pathetic."

He took a deep breath in, then roared again, as loud as he possibly could - felt his mouth open further than it should’ve been able to, teeth where there should have been none, he was screaming at the top of his lungs with a thousand voices in chorus - "COWARDS!”

Keloid snarled, baring every fang in its wide mouth and swung at Apex, talons extended in a flurry of blows, going at his strange arm, every blow getting more aggressive than the last. 

Paladin giggled wildly, “Keep going!” They scrambled on top of a pile of rotting metals, watching the fight from a fair distance. They pulled their visor up, wide yellow eyes watching the shadow-vex claw at armor and shadow. Each hit made them erupt in a flurry of cheers and wild laughter, metal clinking against metal as they clapped, their grin growing unnaturally wide. 

Apex was getting sick of that stupid laugh. His vision was still gone, but… just faintly, in his haze of anger, he could make out a fuzzy grey shape among the blinding yellow. A bit of a stretch away... it had to be them.

"Shut UP," he growled, pivoting on his heels and lunging at the distant shape. Keloid's claws came down on his back as he turned - leaving a scar behind, he was sure it'd hurt when he wasn't totally enraged - but he slipped away from the shadow-vex and barreled towards the wavering grey silhouette of Paladin.

Paladin laughed, and stood up, boots sinking into the pile of metal underneath them. They pulled out a thin, shining yellow blade and raised it up, waiting patiently. As Apex’s form barreled closer, they stuck just a sliver of tongue out, and brought the blade down slashing into his chest. 

He didn't flinch. Didn't even pause anywhere but internally to register the pain of yet another wound on his body. He probably should've died by now, but that wasn't going to stop him - Apex was running on nothing but spite and rage and pure energy at this point.

He grabbed Paladin's sword-hand with his shadowy arm, let out another roar as he tightened his grip, aimed their arm back, and forced their stupid glinting sword into their chest point-first, pushed it right through their armor. "Shouldn't have done that.”

Paladin cried out in pain, eyes narrowing as the blade dug deeper, then looked up, smiling. Claws dug into Apex's back as Keloid once again grabbed him by the shadowy arm and pulled him off Paladin, throwing him into a pile of metal. 

It was getting harder and harder to stand up again, but that's what Apex did - slowly, shakily. "I told you. As long as I can still move, you aren't safe." The wound across his chest hurt even more than he'd thought it would now that he was actually bothering to register the pain - he wobbled on his feet, but managed to stay upright.

Paladin pulled the blade out of their chest as their grin fell quickly into a pout. Keloid growled and stepped forward… and then stopped short. 

It paused, stared over the wounded shadow, at the thousands of gold scratches on grey and black. Fragile. Glass-like. A stained glass picture of a bird, two bright yellow gems for eyes, its wings broken off from abuse and wear. Keloid hunched over, picking up Apex gently. It tilted its head curiously, and began to leave the room. Paladin stared in shock, hands now on their hips, “What are you doing? Keloid? Keloid!” 

Keloid ignored the knight, walking out of the room. Paladin ran out, following the shadow-vex, eyebrows knitted, eyes locked on Apex’s blind ones. 

Apex, for his part, was not enjoying this one bit. He struggled weakly against the vague shadowy blob holding him, trying to escape Keloid’s grasp - unfortunately, though, while it was holding him gently, this was still a firm grip, and every single motion he made was starting to hurt. He scrabbled at the ground with his shadowy hand, trying to pull himself away, but Keloid just kept moving. And frankly, he was too exhausted to ask where it was taking him or why.

Keloid slammed a free arm onto a button and a door clicked open, pistons creaking as the entryway slid open. Paladin walked in and groaned - this was their vault. The room with their diamonds, their gold, emeralds. All of their shiny things. Keloid placed Apex down with uncanny gentleness. “Be nice,” it said, looking over towards Paladin.

Apex was not feeling nice. The second his feet touched the ground of the new room, he lunged at Paladin again, lurching somewhat unsteadily on the new terrain. He didn’t have the energy left to actually say anything, but the snarl he made was a fairly obvious declaration of his intentions. As far as he was concerned, he’d been moved to a new arena - and he was still going to kick the snot out of Paladin, make them regret messing with him.

Paladin wasn’t in a good mood, either. Keloid put the shadow that’d stabbed them in their room, and told them to “be nice”? They weren’t in the mood to be nice, no, they wanted this shadow out of their room. The piles of gems began to rumble as they backed up from the charging shadow. Their pout fell even further - they weren’t acting anymore, they wanted this stupid shadow gone. 

Paladin backed up against one wall as piles of gems started to shift around them and the gold chandelier began to sway in circles. They were angry; angry at Keloid, angry at Apex, angry at everything and everyone that wasn’t them. Paladin wailed, their foot slamming into the ground. “It’s not fair!”

Two dozen emeralds flew through the air, somehow reacting to Paladin’s explosive tantrum. One sliced right past Apex’s cheek - he couldn’t see these projectiles, and another one hit him blunt-side first in the stomach. Still, he stumbled forward, even as another emerald caught his shadowy arm in its elbow, ripped through so hard that it dissipated.

Paladin was outright frowning now; Apex had made them ruin perfectly good emeralds. They stomped forward, every step closer to Apex making more and more gems bounce higher into the air. They grabbed him by the collar, spitting in his face as they yelled at him. 

“You’re ruining everything!”

Gems got pushed back in waves like a shockwave tearing through the room, pushing gems and statues up against the wall and spinning the chandelier in circles. Apex just gritted his teeth, grabbed Paladin by the helmet with one hand and slammed his fist into their face. “You’re going to regret taunting me,” he spat back. “I don’t lose my quarry.”

Paladin pushed Apex back into a pile of gems with surprising force. The diamonds and emeralds were sharp - they poked small holes into Apex’s back, and he winced in discomfort. Meanwhile, Paladin stormed forward, teeth bared, their cheerful nature completely diminished. They reared back, winding up to to punch Apex in the jaw, only for a claw to pick them up and set them aside. 

Keloid, looking quite distressed, came over and scooped up Apex and threw him over its shoulder - Apex struggled again, but he was in a pretty inconvenient place and couldn’t quite reach any weak points.

Unbothered by Apex’s squirming, the shadow-vex left the room, sighing as it looked over the damage caused by the two shadows. It clambered up even more stairs before coming to another door. When it opened, Apex could hear birds chirping, and the sound of flowing water. He was set down in lush green grass. “Don’t break anything,” Keloid grumbled.

And it left.

[nyotasaimiri]

Phantom

Frost crunched underfoot, her breath fogged out before her, and Nyota felt truly alive for the first time since she had fallen asleep in her brother’s arms at the Ark, so many weeks ago. “How long has it been since I last saw snow?” she asked aloud.

“Maybe too long,” Arjun said, a hint of a smile visible under his cap as he adjusted it to keep fog out of his visor. “You’re grinning like a child.”

“You ain’t got much room to talk, Gramps,” Sonny teased. She gave him a poke in the ribs and got a ruffled corona for her troubles.

Hadley looked up to watch the gently falling snow and cursed as a flake got in her eye. “Never understood the point of the white fluffy stuff,” she said as she blinked the cold away. “Regular rain is bad enough—hey Captain, what are you doing?”

“Shhh.” Nyota straightened up, took aim, and threw.

Lumen held out his hands, marveling as the snow hissed into steam as it touched his fingers. “Some novas ain’t too fond of cold,” he was saying, “but this place ain’t too bad. It’s right lovely, seein’—oof!”

The snowball caught him square in the chest.

“Hey now, which of ya jokers pulled that one?” he asked as Hadley, Namina, and Sonny cracked up. The snow on his vest sizzled away as he brushed at it. Arjun pointed at Nyota and Lumen whistled. “Nah, Captain?”

“Maybe,” Nyota said, and knocked off his knitted hat.

She had to duck fast as Hadley tried to avenge Lumen with a frosty fastball to her ears. Snowflakes dusted her hair as it whizzed by. There was a sharp yelp as Hadley learned that turning her back on Arjun was not a good idea. Nyota laughed under the cursing and scooped up another handful.

“Alarmed. I don’t want to get snow in my gears,” Arrowmail protested, scooting away from the sudden chaos.

“C’mon, let’s get out of it,” Sonny said. She laughed, ducked a snowball, and pulled Arrowmail out of the way. “Buncha funny hooligans we’ve got, huh?”

“Anxious. Maybe,” the glitch conceded. He whirred nervously and leaned a little farther back behind the tree.

Snow flew wild and fast. Stray shots knocked flurries down from the evergreens overhead. If anyone had time to think, they would have been shocked to hear Nyota’s laughter, loose and almost careless, but they were too busy dodging her snowballs and trying to give as good as they got. Her last shot cleared Lumen’s head by a few inches.

“What are ya aimin’ at, Captain?” he teased. “My brand’s down here.”

“I—” Nyota’s face froze slightly and she straightened up, snow dropping unnoticed from her hands, Hadley’s snowball splattering off her back without reaction. And Lumen was orange, and shorter, and Lumen again.

Lumen made a low, quirky sound deep in his brand. “Where’d ya go, Captain?” he asked. “I ain’t much an expert, but I’d say it ain’t here.”

“I am fine,” Nyota said quietly. “We should probably get moving to the camp now. They’ll wonder what happened to us.”

“Yeah, don’t want them sending out a search party,” Arjun agreed. He took off his cap to dust the snow off of it. “Never hear the end of that. ‘Aren’t you the geezer Geo dug out of a snowdrift?’ Pfah.”

Sonny giggled and leaned on him, her warmth melting the last flakes off. “Sounds like you got experience,” she teased.

Arjun flicked her corona. “Quit your jingling.” Sonny just giggled more. “So, Captain. Where are we going from here?”

“I don’t see any tracks,” Oldarva said, looking around. Her voice was muffled by a thick scarf; she was thoroughly bundled up, despite her fur, and still shivered a little as the cold wind bit past her. Generations of living on an arid planet had certainly taken their effect.

“We’re still a decent way away from the camp,” Nyota told them. The mantle of Captain settled firmly back down around her shoulders. “I didn’t want to alarm anyone with a sudden appearance, or tip off spies. This way.”

Lumen kept close to her as the crew followed her through a narrow passage between snow-covered boulders and across the frozen ground. Nyota almost wished he wouldn’t, stopping herself for a third time from turning to look. Fond as she was of Lumen, the disappointment cut deep, every time. It was copper she saw, not gold. She knew better than to chase a phantom.

[verrottweil]

as snow to fire

intro to this wip multi-chap thing i’m writing. this piece in particular is gen.

inspired by and dedicated to the amazing artworks here. please check them out, you won’t regret it!

can also be read here

main characters: spearman & goblin slayer

.

They made it back to the Guild just in time. The storm's finally caught up; the rain rattles against the building, and the wind is a madman's howl through the streets. It's hard to tell whether it'll be over in a few minutes or will last the whole damn night. Spearman wipes the sweat and grime off his face with the back of his hand, wincing when he catches the gash on his cheek.The blue-dyed leather of his glove comes back blood-stained. Shit. Must've peeled the scab off. Witch tuts disapprovingly and rummages around in her pouch, then hands him a perfumed handkerchief. Her lips curl into a lazy smile. Indulgent.

During the trek back to town Spearman daydreamed about how he’d report back to Guild Girl and how cool he’d look, now he has to stand there at the counter with a hankie pressed to his cheek. Unless...

Turning to his companion with puppy dog eyes, Spearman wheedles, “You have one spell left. Can't you work some magic on me, for a job well done?”

Witch raises a brow and while pretending to mull over his request, she daintily crosses one leg over the other. The candlelight flickers over her features, her generous cleavage. With a tilt of the head, she regards him and answers unhurriedly, “If I were to. You would lose your mark of heroism. No?”

Catching Guild Girl shuffle through a stack of papers from his peripheral, Spearman deflates a little. Witch rolls her eyes and lights her pipe. Maybe Guild Girl would fuss over him for a change? He pokes his tongue to the inside of his cheek, pressing his palm harder to the cut. She always bends over backwards for Goblin Slayer when he gets back from a quest. Resentment rears its ugly head at the thought. Spearman doesn't have the energy to pretend he never noticed how badly she crushes on Goblin Slayer. The fight with those bandits took a lot more than he anticipated.

It would be nice to have Guild Girl smile at him like she means it though.

The massive wooden door opens with a shuddery creak. Spearman groans when he sees Goblin Slayer in the open doorway-- after five years, he recognizes the silhouette of that dirt cheap helmet immediately. A spray of rain gets blown into the hall. Goblin Slayer and his party file inside, striking a more pitiful sight than usual, soaked to the bone and stupid tired from their adventure. Speak of the devil. They shuffle over to the front desk, their shadows crooked on the floorboards.

With a huff, Spearman watches how Guild Girl perks up considerably. “I don't get it,” he whines, clenching his hands into fists. “What's so special about him?”

It was strictly rhetorical. So he certainly didn't expect his companion to reply: “You could try to find out… maybe? He is perhaps more, than he seems. At first glance.” When she notices she has his attention, Witch takes a puff of her pipe-- thin wisps of faint purple smoke float to the ceiling. She adds coyly, “Now is a good time, as any. Don't you agree?”

“Wanna bet there are just more goblins at second glance?” Spearman mutters derisively, shifting his weapon from shoulder. No response. He glances at the front desk.

Still, there's gotta be something worthwhile about the guy.

Guild Girl's dropped everything now Goblin Slayer's in front of her. Her hands are flat on the countertop as she listens captively to Goblin Slayer's report, no doubt standing on the tips of her toes to catch every word. Humming to himself, Spearman concedes Witch has a point. After all, for the entirety of Spearman's adventuring career Goblin Slayer has been this 'goblin-obsessed weirdo’ on the backdrop, and he never really bothered to get to know him better. Witch tips her head back and regards him with narrowed eyes. A long shadow falls over the slope of her throat.

Handing the bloodied handkerchief back, Spearman makes a face and says aloud, “Okay, okay, I guess you're right... Hey, you up for a drink?”

The corners of Witch's mouth curl into a smile. She rises languidly from her seat, with the grace of a cat stretching under the midday sun. Together they head over to the front desk. Goblin Slayer's party doesn't require much convincing; the prospect of drink, food and the tavern’s grand fireplace easily tides them over. Only Goblin Slayer himself remains hesitant. Spearman figures the guy had probably planned to get back to that farm right away.

“Gah you can't be serious, Orcbolg!” High Elf Archer exclaims loudly, hands on her hips and eyebrows furrowed.

Before she can berate him in earnest, Dwarf Shaman pitches in, “Come now, Beard-cutter. You've walked through the same storm as us. It's better to sit this one out. And you might as well fill your stomach while you're at it.”

Even Guild Girl nods in agreement at the dwarf's words. Cornered, Goblin Slayer tenses up, making this soft, confused sound that Spearman would've never heard if he hadn't been standing so close to him. The heavy rainfall drowns out most noise.

“I see,” Goblin Slayer murmurs. Water drips down the expanse of his chest piece, and the fur of his collar's wet, weighed down. Dried blood on the buckler around his arm. His leather boots caked with mud. Other adventurers always turn up their nose when they see him in his gear, but he's downright sorry-looking now.

Spearman snaps his gaze back to the visor of that cheap helmet when Goblin Slayer slowly says, “Alright.”

.

The tavern's awash with warmth. The padfoot waitress flits between tables on nimble feet, the skirt of her uniform bellowing around her legs. Rookie and veteran adventurers are clustered in groups of four or five. Chattering excitedly or raising their tankards in a festive toast. Spearman greets those he knows and leads the exhausted party to the table closest by the hearth. The firewood crackles pleasantly. Soot papering the stone foundation. Lizard Priest takes the head of the table. His hulking form cuts an impressive figure; the priestly garments he wears are wet-stuck to his scales, like a second skin. Dwarf Shaman and High Elf Archer settle down on each side.

“--And I'm telling you that it doesn't count, you stubborn dwarf!” She shrieks, shrill, while the dwarf bursts out laughing. Spearman wasn't really following their argument, about the merits of dwarven crossbows or something; most of his attention had been focused on Goblin Slayer and Priestess. It's oddly endearing, watching this girl hover around the guy like a tiny mother hen.

Her sounding staff gleams with raindrops, firelit. She holds onto it tightly when she chastises him. “You shouldn't have flooded the outpost.”

“The river was close by,” Goblin Slayer replies, carefully unbuckling the worn leather clasp of his shield.

Priestess puffs out her cheeks. Some strands of honey blond hair are plastered to her face. “Can't you be a bit more considerate? You know she doesn't like it when you use fire, water or poison in fights… What if-- what if you altered the river's course?”

“Not by much,” he murmurs in response, placing the scabbard of his sword down in front of the fireplace. The glow of the flames washes over his back like an orange wave. “Give me your cloak,” he then says, holding out his hand.

“Ah, right!” Priestess exclaims, quickly shrugging off the oversized, coarse cloak. Goblin Slayer spreads it out to dry on the floorboards.

Spearman watches the exchange with a smile. He places his spear against the wall and turns to the table, intending to take the seat next to Witch. Their eyes meet, and she smirks, her eyes half-hooded. The tip of her pointy hat droops sideways when she props her elbow on the tabletop and rests her chin on her knuckles. Her gaze falls on Priestess, who blushes under its intensity. Huh, cute.

Witch addresses her directly. “Won't you come sit.” Here she pats the spot next to her. “I would like to hear. About your adventure. Would that be… alright? I am sure, you must have much to tell.” She remarks gently, her voice lilting like a lullaby.

“Yes!” Priestess stutters around the y, grabbing the skirts of her robes with two fistfuls. “I mean of course, that wouldn't be a problem at all.” The skin peeking above her thigh highs a bright red from the cold.

With a sigh, Spearman settles down onto the bench, leaving space for Goblin Slayer. The wood groans under his added weight.

They order soup with full wheat bread on the side, roast for supper with pears and wild cranberries, a platter of grilled winter vegetables for High Elf Archer, and an assortment of cheese for Lizard Priest. The padfoot waitress serves them tankards of rich grape wine. Spearman listens attentively to Dwarf Shaman’s and Priestess’ retelling of their adventure, interspersed by High Elf Archer’s indignant squawks whenever the dwarf makes a joke at her expense and by Goblin Slayer’s remarks. He hasn’t bothered removing his helmet. The torn red ribbon sticks flatly to the metal.

“So what did you guys do?!” High Elf Archer asks, pounding her tankard onto the tabletop -- Lizard Priest gingerly picks up his plate and shoots her a look. Always excited to hear about “real” adventures that one. Her cheeks flushed already.

Spearman takes a big gulp from his drink, wipes his chin and answers, “Cleared a bandit camp. On the mountain pass way up north.”

From the corner of his eye he gauges Goblin Slayer for a reaction. The guy remains impassive, giving no indication he’s heard him speak up in the first place, spooning mouthfuls of food through the slits of his faceguard.

Turning back to High Elf Archer, Spearman continues, “There must’ve been a dozen of ‘em, right. Burly. Tough. Armed to the teeth.”

“Tell us what happened!” She eggs him on loudly, grinning wide. Her companions nod in agreement; all eyes suddenly trained on him.

Basking in the attention, Spearman recounts the events of the day. How they trekked through the tall grass, the frozen ground like rock under their heels, and cautiously made their way to the encampment on the bluff overlooking the mountain pass. They smoked out the bandits. Set the wooden fortification ablaze with a simple fire spell. When he gets to the fight, Spearman becomes animated, gesturing wildly to emphasize certain parts, sometimes bumping into Goblin Slayer next to him. He took on ten bandits at the same time. Only one got to him, socked him in the face with a gauntleted fist.

Lizard Priest folds his paws together, eyes squinted half-shut, and offers, “I could heal that cut for you if you so pleased, milord Spearman.”

Spearman’s caught of guard for a moment. Witch flashes him a knowing look, and he declines casually, “Nah… Wouldn’t want to lose my battlescar.” He turns to Goblin Slayer and asks with a wink, “How else would people know I’m an adventurer, right?”

“You look like one,” Goblin Slayer deadpans in response. To Spearman’s surprise, the other members of the party start laughing, as if the guy just cracked a joke.

Unsure of how to react, Spearman tips back the rest of his wine. A bit too fast, because it clogs at the well of his throat, the taste sticking to his palate like honey. He swallows, curt. Tries not to acknowledge that Goblin Slayer is still watching him. His head angled to the side, the fire’s glow lining the back of his helmet with a streak of gold. Did he offend him or something? The tavern turns rowdy when two adventurers start an armwrestling competition at the bar. Spearman peers at the gathering crowd past Goblin Slayer.

High Elf Archer slams her tankard down on the table in cheer and hops off the bench. “Let's go watch!” She commands, half-drunk. Dwarf Shaman strokes his beard and slips out of his seat as well, keeping his cup of fire-wine in hand. Satisfied, the elf turns to Goblin Slayer and says, “Orcbolg, you too!”

“It stopped raining,” he says matter-of-fact.

Lizard Priest casts a glance over his shoulder, at the lead-stained window behind him and hums in acknowledgement. “Indeed it has, milord Goblin Slayer.” His paws are pressed together again, eyes scrunched shut, like a cat's when petted. “I believe you would prefer to take your leave then?”

It dawns on Spearman that Goblin Slayer had been looking past him, not at him. His lips press into a thin line.

“Oh,” Priestess exhales, almost inaudible over the pleasant crackling of the firewood and the shouting match near the counter. Her hair's dried, frazzled around the cheeks. In need of a good brush. She regards him intently when saying, “Please be careful on your way home.”

“I will,” Goblin Slayer promises, getting up from the bench under a barrage of complaints from High Elf Archer. Her voice crowding out the drunken struggle at the bar.

He drops a leather bag of coin onto the table and fetches his weapons.

Spearman crosses his arms in front of his chest, bouncing his leg impatiently. His expression pinches up when Witch bumps her foot against his ankle and levels him a look. Her eyes gleam under the brim of her hat, the smile on her face duplicitous. After years of fighting back to back, they learned to communicate by body language alone. With a tilt of the head Witch nudges him onwards. He heaves a sigh, surrenders. And then slams his fist onto the table, getting up.

High Elf Archer startles at the unexpected sound. Her lecture brought to an abrupt ending. Dwarf Shaman takes a gulp of fire-wine, peering up at him from underneath thick bristly eyebrows when he stands at full height.

Spearman sheepishly scratches his nose and announces, “I figured I'd come with... All this wine is getting to my head y'know, and I need some fresh air.” He jerks his head in Goblin Slayer's direction and asks, “You don't mind, do ya?”

Goblin Slayer bows his head, caught in the firelight, and mutters, “Do as you wish.”

The hollowed-out sound of his voice would scotch any attempt at accompanying him, but Spearman just grins. He then looks over at Witch and catches Priestess shaking her head helplessly next to her. When she notices him staring, she gives him a self-effacing smile, as if to say you get used to it. It serves to boost his confidence even further.

Taking his spear in hand, Spearman says brightly, “Right! Lead on, then.”

.

Thawed-out and wet, the muddy underground sucks at their boots; the wind whips mercilessly against his bare cheeks. The cut on his cheek throbs from the cold. Spearman wipes at his watery eyes and follows Goblin Slayer's shadowy form down the dirt road, both moons looming behind a slumber of clouds. In the first month of the new year, the weather always fluctuates between bitter frost, and cool and rainy. The candlelight from the lanterns around their hips sloshes unsteadily with every step. It spills over the mud like oil.

Spearman licks his dry-cracked lips. They haven't exchanged a single word since leaving the tavern, and the silence rings between his ears heavier than the wind around them. He'd wanted to breach the subject conversationally. Why goblins? Don't you care about anything else?

But the cold leaves him wrung-out, with the sound of his voice dying stillborn past his teeth.

After another few minutes of walking, Spearman wagers a gamble. He's the frontier's strongest, gods be damned, and he's faced worse than a talk with a fellow adventurer. Balling his hands into fists -- closed tighter than a padlock, he strides up to Goblin Slayer. His squelching footsteps echoing bravely in the dark.

“So,” Spearman begins, his breath a wet fog. “What's your deal, anyway? With goblins, I mean. You never wanna move on to bigger game?”

Goblin Slayer looks at him from over his shoulder, a courtesy for him, and replies curtly, “No.”

“Well why not?” Spearman presses on, courageous. “You could if you wanted to, y'know. Remember when we handled that sorcerer in his big white tower? Lil’ bit more practice and you'd be a great scout.”

“Not interested,” Goblin Slayer answers, pulling the threadbare cloak up to his chin, drawn tight over the span of his back.

The few trees near the road rustle their branches -- aspen, birches, a dried-out oak. A harrowing sound.

Spearman combs a gloved hand through his hair, exhales through his nose, loud like a bull. He makes another ditch effort. “You've got two cute girls in your party. Aren't you even a little bit interested in one of them? And with Guild Girl smiling at you like…” He trails off, swallows. Sounding too sour for his own ears. “And what about that farm girl? You went out on a limb for her farm, and okay, there were goblins too, but don't try and--”

“Not every farm gets saved.”

He snaps his head up, gives Goblin Slayer a surprised stare. The wind like a whiplash against his skin. Goblin Slayer's lantern lights up his belly, his chest, but leaves his helmet to the dark. Just a glint of metal.

This guy, Spearman thinks, why would he say something like that all of a sudden. Inarticulate, he manages, “What?”

“Not every farm, not every village gets saved,” Goblin Slayer says slowly. “Mine didn't.”

They stop walking. The hemline of that threadbare cloak bellows in the wind; Spearman can hardly differentiate the outline against the dark. He shifts his spear from shoulder. The weight of his weapon a comfort. He tries to peer between the grates of Goblin Slayer's visor, trying to glimpse his eyes. They were reddish, weren't they?--he remembers from that celebration at the Guild, when he took his helmet off and…

“We’re already far from town,” Goblin Slayer turns towards the frontier town, towards the lights in the distance. You should head back remains unsaid.

The dismissal stings, worse than his cheek does, but his curiosity grows voracious, threatening to pull the tell me out into the open. Spearman falters. Wants to do something outrageous like reach out to him, grab him by the shoulders and rattle him a little, shake the whole confession out of him. He blinks, owlish.

“Right,” he mutters lamely, forcing a grin. “Guess I should get going then… See ya!”

Goblin Slayer remains unmoved, holding onto the rusted handle of the lantern tied around his waist. The candle wobbles on its iron perch. “Yes,” Goblin Slayer says then, simply assessing him. "I will probably see you at the Guild."

Spearman rubs the back of his neck, takes a step backwards. Another one. His foot sinking into the mud. He awkwardly balances his spear against his shoulder, not wanting to dirty the weapon, and turns to the opposite direction. The red moon peeks through wisps of clouds overhead. He takes a steadying breath and treks homewards, feeling the wind beat against his back like children's fists. His stomach in knots.

For the first time, he's looking forward to seeing Goblin Slayer again.

[letitrainathousandflames-archive]

I 👏🏼need👏🏼an 👏🏼angsty 👏🏼sick 👏🏼clones 👏🏼who 👏🏼push 👏🏼themselves 👏🏼fanfic Like really. I want a clone to get sick and brush it aside as he still goes on duty only for him to get worse and pass out on the job and brothers are super worried for him! They care so much! 😭👌🏼

It was gonna be just a lil drabble lmao

Fiveswasn’t feeling exactly well ever since they’d gotten in the shuttle. Echoelbowed him on his arm, keeping his voice low.

“Youalright there?”

“I’m fine.”

The hell hewas. Fives had woken up a little dizzy and so clogged he could barely breathe,settling for breathing through his mouth, which made him short of breath andwas starting to get him a headache. Echo wasn’t gonna let up this easily:

“You don’tlook alright. You were pale this morning. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Fivesbreathed out of his mouth, which made the filters in his helmet hiss.

“I’m fine.Give it a rest, okay?”

The missionwas to defend the shipyards of Kuat, a planet of the Core Planets from whichmany ships vital to the Republic would come from. Dooku had sent an army ofdroids and their commander to try and seize control of the planet and itsshipyards. When Fives was about to get off the shuttle, he could barely standon his feet. Echo led the shinies out and asked Kix to mind them for a secondas he looked over his shoulder to Fives.

“Are you sure you’re okay there, Fives?”

Fivessniffled, unable to breathe through his nose. He could feel sweat forming onhis forehead under his bucket. Before he could answer, Rex stormed back in theship:

“May I knowwhy in the blazes my two ARC troopersare still in the ship while our General expects us outside?”

Echo stoodstraight at Rex.

“Sure, sir.Uh, Fives here is…”

“Had aproblem with my equipment, sir.” Fives cut him off “I, uh, thought I had leftmy ammo back at the base” he lifted his kama “But, hey, it’s all here. Let’smeet the General.”

Rex tookhis helmet off, narrowing his eyes at Fives.

“Is thisall there is, Fives?” he asked, and Fives nodded.

“Yessir.I’ll… I’ll get going so the boys won’t be alone.” and he marched out.

Rex sighed,putting his helmet back on.

“He is aterrible liar.”

Echofacepalmed at his own helmet.

“HeAlways have been, sir.”

“What is upwith him, then?”

“I don’tknow.”

“Well” Rexsaid walking out of the shuttle “Let’s hope we don’t find out in the middle ofthis mess.”

-

Fives’voice was cracking every three words. Rex just knew he wasn’t okay. Still,Fives pushed him by his chest, away from the incoming gunfire as they tookcover.

“—Tellingyou to back off, sir! Somebody has to activate the disruptor and that’s gonnabe me! You round up the boys to protect the depot. Go!”

Rex lookedover his shoulder. General Skywalker did need a help to hold the clankers off,so many there were, coming in waves. He looked back at Fives.

“You’ll beokay? I can send a small squad…”

 “No, I need their attention on you!” Fiveslooked ahead with his visors “There are fewer of them there. They don’t knowthey’re all within the disruptor radius.” He looked back at Rex “The minute Iturn that thing on, stay close to General Skywalker; All blasters in range,ours and theirs, will be useless and they might resort to fighting so he canwipe them all with his lightsaber and they won’t be so dangerous. Look out forEcho and the others…”

Fives wasinterrupted by a coughing fit; his throat felt like he had swallowed dry sand.

“Fives, youare not one hundred percent, are you?” Rex asked with concern as Fives liftedhis helmet halfway up to spit on the ground

“I’m fine.”Fives answered as he wiped his chin “Just fine, sir. Now move on, take care ofthe others.”

As Fivesclimbed out of the shallow improvised trench, Rex sighed, running back toSkywalker.

“Kriffinghell Fives, you better come back alive.”

-

Fivesactually managed to turn on the disruptor without alarming the droids. Too badhe was too dizzy not to trip on his own feet and fall down with a loud clatterof armor. The eight commando droids guarding that exit turned to him as he gotback to his feet.

“Ah, justmy luck.” they raised their blasters to him and Five raised his own to them “I won’tgo down without a fight, you karking clankers.”

Both Fivesand the droids tried to open fire, but nothing happened. Fives let out a smalllaugh.

“Ha-ha. Itworked.” the dizziness and the unrelenting headache was starting to make himstupid

The droidslowered their guns, closing a circle around him instead. Fives raised hisguard, defending the first hit, but a punch of a solid steel punch wasn’tsomething his armor could do much for. Fives grunted, and another strike hithim right on his ribs, triggering another coughing fit; when another droid hithim on the back of his head he collapsed down, never feeling happier for havinga bucket over his head to prevent these fuckers to bash his skull in. He lookedup to the merciless red eyes and tried to stabilize his breathing.

“Ah, kriff,what a damn way to die.”

“Fives!”

GeneralSkywalker came cutting two droids in the same move, and that was a sweet image,but nothing could compare to Rex and Echo simultaneously landing a kick to acommando droid’s chest, forcing it to stagger back to the General’s lightsaber.As Skywalker got rid of the remaining droids, Echo reached for Fives, helpinghim sit up.

“Fives, areyou alright, vod?!”

Fivescoughed. And coughed. And coughed. Then he pried the helmet off his head andpushed Echo away, because he knew what was coming, and he threw up right nextto an unamused Captain Rex’s shoes.

“So.” Rexraised an eyebrow “One hundred percent, huh?”

Fiveswasn’t quite finished, and this time he did manage to hit Rex’s shoes. Echotapped his back lightly.

“There,there, let it out.” He scrunched his face in disgust “The hell is up with you?”

Sweatdripped from Fives’ forehead as he tried to catch his breath.

“Nothing.They punched me in the gut, that’s all, let’s…” he got to his feet, and hetried to walk despite his steps looking like those of a drunk deer on ice “Let’smove out, we need to set the second disruptor close to the other flank…And…”

Fives was sodizzy he didn’t even put his hands in front of himself to prevent falling onhis face. Someone flipped him on his back without much care and Fives sawhimself face to face with a furious Kix holding a vial full of a bright greenliquid close to his face.

“Try towalk again and I’ll shoot this on your neck. Fall on your face again and I’lldo it on your dumb ass instead.” He threatened in an angry snarl

“Holy kriff,Kix, didja miss the first few classes on bedside manners?”

“I don’t havebedside manners to stupid pacients.” Kix answered as Jesse and Hardcase broughta stretcher close to the ground close to Fives “And now I’ll get you out ofhere and you will lie the hell down until I’m done checking you.”

Kix wasstill cursing even the tube from which Fives had come from as Jesse and Harcasecarried him  out, and Rex scratched theback of his neck.

“Ah, therare angry Kix we see once in a blue moon.”

Echo noddedat Rex.

“The lasttime I saw him like that we had a case of Hardcase.”

-

When Rexfinally came to see Fives at the camp, the ARC trooper sat up tensely, undressedoff his armor and lying on a small bed in the medbay:

“What’shappening outside? Is everyone okay? Any losses? General—”

Rex raiseda hand, and Fives silenced. Rex looked at Fives with sharp eyes, and Fives knewthat look. That was ‘disciplinary Rex’ alright. Fives knew this side of hisvery well, almost as well as Hardcase did.

“I want anexplanation. And so does the General.”

“Rex—”

“Don’tstall me.”

“I was just…”Fives looked away from Rex “I thought I could…”

Rex tensed uphis jaw, cutting him off again.

“Don’t lieto me, you suck at that and you’re wasting my time and yours. I demanded anexplanation, ARC Trooper Fives, and I want it now.”

Fivesfisted in the white covers over his legs, still not looking at his Captain.

“I woke upfeeling a little ill. I thought it would be okay for me to work like that.”

Rex ran histongue over his teeth, nodding a few times.

“Like that.Like that, out there in the field? Throwing up and barely breathing andsweating like a bantha?”

“I wasn’tlike that when we left…”

“Why didn’tyou take a checkup with Kix before leaving the GAR?”

Fives shookhis head, speaking between his clenched teeth:

“Because wewere tight on schedule, we were departing soon and I wanted to…”

“And youwanted to be a hero. You wanted to– Look at me when I’m talking to you,soldier!” he snapped at Fives, and the ARC raised his face in a sharp move;Fives’ face was full of pent up anger “You don’t get to decide whether you aregood to go or not, we have a medic staff to do so. They get to give you clearance.Not your poor judgement.”

Fiveschewed at his cheek.

“My poorjudgement? I turned the disruptor on. I did the thing that saved everyone’slives, including yours and the General’s!”

“And youalmost got killed in the process.”

“Nothingyou never did before.”

Rex took astep towards Fives, raising a finger and warning in a whispered snarl.

“You watchthat tone when you talk to me, trooper.” His breath was shallow and hiseyebrows were so furled and his eyes were squinted in such anger that for amoment all Fives could see was their glimmer in his features “Kix told me youhad a burning fever over 40ºC! You could’ve died out there!”

Kix hadgiven Fives an amount of painkillers that most likely had took from him whatlittle common sense he would normally have not to answer to his Captain.

“Oh, please!”he spat “Like it would be a big kriffing difference, another clone dead onduty!”

Rex’s eyeswent wide and he marched to Fives’ bedside with such anger in his featuresFives flinched, expecting a punch to the face. Instead, Rex gripped the frontof his blacks, pulling him closer and screaming at his face.

“It wouldmake all the difference, you stupid, shitty soldier!” Rex’s face was red allover, a big vein popping up on his forehead “You’re an ARC trooper! There areothers depending on you! You can’t just go sick into war and throw yourself todeath!”

Fivesflinched again because Rex’s screaming wasn’t doing any good for his massiveheadache.

“Why areyou worrying about the shinies anyway?! I would’ve died for them if I had to.They would be safe!”

Rex’s voicedropped down abysmally to a raspy, tired whisper.

“Youabsolute di’kut. It’s not just aboutthe shinies. It’s not even about the General. I need you. I need you in theLegion. What do you think the 501st is made of? Hm? Captain Rex and GeneralSkywalker? Why the kriff do you think I made you an ARC Trooper, to rub your ego?I don’t think you’d ever need that, you selfish asshole.”

He pushedFives back down against the pillows, breathing hard between his teeth as Fiveslooked back at him wide-eyed. Rex turned his back on Fives and ran a hand overhis face, sighing.

“Look. Iknow I’m not the best example of someone who knows when to relax ever, but youcan’t let that affect your work, Fives. Do you understand that?”

Fivesfidgeted at the covers for an instant before answering quietly:

“Yessir.”

Rex noddedlooking at Fives over his shoulder.

“Good. I’llhave you on charge of cleaning the barracs for a month after this little stuntof yours.”

“Ah, c’mon,Captain, I’m sick in a bed, how can you be this heartless?”

“I’m goingeasy on you, you deserved worse and you know it.” Rex paused, scratching hischin and speaking louder now “Hey, I know you are all outside spying on ourconversation, smartasses.”

Echo, Jesseand Hardcase popped their heads in the tent.

“Spying?”Hardcase asked as if someone had accused him of a crime “We would NEVER!”

“They mademe do it, sir.” Echo said promptly, standing straight with his hands behind hisback

“Thanks,vod, good to know you’d never turn us in.” Jesse said as he rolled his eyes,and Rex chuckled

 “Take your time talking to him, but rememberwe have a meeting with the General soon.”

At that Rexsaluted them and Fives, and they saluted him back. The group cautiously camecloser to Fives, and Fives shook his head.

“Don’tworry, it’s not contagious by touching or breathing. Kix said it’s just a minorvirus but unless any of you is going to kiss me…”

Hardcasescratched his head, drawing in closer along with Echo and Jesse.

“Well, nokissing, but…” he gave Fives a hug, and Jesse and Echo joined him “I think youdeserve that.”

“Yeah,”Jesse laughed ruffling his hair “being sick and having saved our lives, thatkinda deserves a hug, right?”

“Glad tosee that Kix didn’t have to strap you to the bed this time.” Echo said with asmile as they let go off him “I suppose you’ll accept staying down for a while,vod?”

“Yeah… Iguess a trooper’s gotta rest sometimes, right? It’s not all that bad.”

“Good.”Echo replied “Because you ran over like eight safety regulations on that stuntof yours. Paragraph 112, code E of the manual explicitly stated that in the circumstancesof need for medical attention, a trooper is obligated to—“

“I changedmy mind.” Fives groaned “It’s bad. It’s terrible. Someone toss me back in the middleof those clankers and let them finish the job!”

They alllaughed, even Echo. He was used to being a little shit to Fives and did itmostly to annoy him. Then a voice came from the door, making the group shiverin fear.

“I willtoss all of you to the clankers if you don’t get the hell out of there and letmy patient rest now.”

Kix hadstormed in, and Echo, Jesse and Hardcase got up to their feet and back to thedoor in no time.

“Yessir.”

“ ’scuse me”

“See yousoon, Doc.”

Kix walkedto Fives, setting a droid to measure his heart rate and checking the readingson the screen on it’s chest. Fives swallowed hard, looking down to his ownhands.

“Sorry formaking you worry, Kix.”

Kix noddedto then swallow hard, looking at Fives with a hesitant smile.

“Don’t evercome to work sick again or I will kick your ass, we clear?”

“Yeah. Ipromise.” He made a pause “Kriff, I’ve never seen Rex so angry.”

Kix raisedan eyebrow.

“Angry? Hewas pacing and looking all helpless outside. General Skywalker had to remindhim to breathe slower. You didn’t get him angy, Fives, you got him terrified.”

[insomniac-arrest]

Are you Sure you Don’t Like Kisses?

pairing: lapidot

words: 1k

summary: Peridot and Lapis have a conversation about earth on a rainy day

canon-verse lapidot fluff for my request-a-thon (the last format of this wasn’t working)

Peridot and Lapis were staring up at the ceiling, the day was gray and cloudy outside like a grim filter on Steven’s phone.

They were relaxing on the grainy floor and Lapis’s head was next to hers, she could feel her cool blue hand tracing the arch of her knuckles, lightly running over the bumps in her skin. They continued their detailed list.

“Sun reflecting in my eyes.” Lapis declared flatly.

Peridot shifted beside her, “Technology from before Red Diamond.”

“Baby things crying.”

“Steven giving me some of his gummy-mammals and getting the material stuck in my teeth.” Peridot contributes with a dent in her brow.

“Wet sand getting behind my ears.” Lapis says as Peridot watches her lips twitch down.

Peridot snorts, “Just wet sand?” She asks sardonically. Lapis nods shortly, “I can get the dry stuff out.” She declares and kicks a leg in the air, “In fact, sand anywhere. Water here could be bearable otherwise.” Peridot shakes her head, “cords that don’t reach all the way.”

“Birds in the morning.” Lapis says as she absently runs her hand down each of Peridot’s fingers.

“Birds in general!” Peridot crows, thinking of the one that stole that mood ring Steven gave her, how would she tell what mood she was in now?

“Wind….But only the strong stuff.” Lapis ran her free hand through her loose blue hair and Peridot watches the locks shift through her fingers like liquid thread and fan out around her face.

“Breathing…” Peridot whispers though she’s not sure she believes that one.

“Television static.”

“Heatwaves.”

“Kissing.”

Peridot opens her mouth to add ‘moths running into their light sources when it is totally unnecessary’ but then paused. She darts her eyes up and studies Lapis’s slow profile, “Kissing?”

Lapis meets her gaze languidly, “Yeah…” She says simply, “It’s everywhere. Why does every season of CPH end with a kiss? With the music, and someone crying, it’s too much, Homeworld wouldn’t even consider it.” Peridot frown deepens, “But we’ve kissed!”

Lapis’s mouth twitched up and she shrugs, her right hand traced a jagged heart into her palm, “My statement still stands.”

Peridot opened her mouth indignantly and then closed it, she blew air out of her nose. She grabbed Lapis’s hand that was still doodling absent patterns into her skin, she intertwined their fingers together.

“You know what I don’t like about earth?” She asks with her eyes narrowed, “Your weird clammy hands.” She lifted their hands up, “You’re freezing!”

Lapis scowled and weakly tried to pull her hand back, “It’s not my fault Peridot’s are the temperature of small ship engines…” She grumbles back.

Peridot held on tighter to Lapis’s hand and then dragged it to her lips, “So cold…and little.” She kissed her first knuckle, “But I think I’m getting used to it.” She declares with her chest puffed out, “Peridot’s are adaptable like that.”

Lapis was still huffing at her, “Don’t even get me started on little tiny hands…” She squeezed Peridot’s hand back.

Peridot shrugged and rolled over, she kissed Lapis’s wrist, then the length of her pale, pale blue inside of her arm and then her elbow. “Come on. Don’t you like hand kisses?” She asked coyly.

“No.”

“Shoulder kisses?” She kissed her shoulder and then her clavicle, “Chest kisses then.” Lapis rolled her eyes. “Not at all.” “Well…” Peridot went lower, “Stomach kisses.” She took her mouth and pressed it down on her center and then blew, “Ppppfff.” Steven taught her that trick.

“Ahahaha!” Lapis tried to push her off as Peridot blew a raspberry into her skin, “No!” She said as she laughed and Peridot tickled her. Lapis away and pushed on Peridot’s face, “You’re ridiculous.”

Peridot shrugged let Lapis push her away, they both sit up, “Well, I guess I am part of earth now.” She says with a sigh, “It’s a pretty grating place.”

Lapis blinks at her and Peridot rights her visor which had gotten crooked on her nose, “Not that I would call myself grating…I am a delight.” She clarified.

“Peridot,” Lapis says slowly.

“And of course, we could also make a list of things of earth that are acceptable.”

“Peridot,” Lapis says again.

“I would personally put kissing on the list, but that’s just me, Percy in season four had a very acceptable kiss, obviously not with the optimal choice but-“ “Peridot!”

Peridot whips her head up and blinks at Lapis, “Yes?” She asks slowly.

Lapis sprouts a half-smile, “I guess we are from here now.”

Peridot puts her palms up, “That’s how I would put it, yes.”

Lapis lets out a breath of air and taps their foreheads together, “Huh.”

Peridot grew a giant grin, “huh.”

They lean forward and the rain starts to patter on the rooftop overhead, Lapis clears her throat, “Rain.” Peridot shakes her head, “Sooooo, you don’t like ear kisses?” She leans in and kisses Lapis on the cusp of her bright blue ear, the other gem outright giggles and swats it away.

“I don’t think so.”

“Neck kisses?” She could feel the vibrations of her laughter.

“Never.”

“Cheek kisses! At least Steven loves those.” She presses her lips to Lapis’s cheek and then feels Lapis grab the sides of her head, holding her in place.

“You can’t convince me. I’m very stubborn you know.” She says lightly, a teasing light in her eye.

Peridot snorts, “Oh I know.” “But,” Lapis bit her bottom lip, “I guess this isn’t Homeworld,” She leaned forward, “Who knows what will happen.” She kisses Peridot on the lips, gently, sweetly, holding the back of her head and pushing down. It was cool and tempered, but Lapis nipped at her and kissed again and again, like the little press of rain against the ground: she pecked her lips with a playful touch over and over.

Peridot snickered as Lapis breathed on her cheek, “That’s a lot of kissing for someone who doesn’t like it.”

Lapis bounces her eyebrows up and down, “Of course. It’s the only way I know how I feel about it.”

Peridot shakes her head, “And how will I ever change your mind?” She asks ruefully. Lapis nips her bottom lip, “I guess we’ll just have to do it a lot.” She laughs and Lapis gathers her in her lap and kisses her neck, “Or enough for revenge…”

Peridot turns slightly to look up at her, “What?”

“Ppppfff,” Lapis blows a raspberry into her neck

“Ahh!” She squirms in her lap and adds shrieks to the still air, Lapis cackles and tells her that this might be a prolonged investigation. The Kissing Investigation.

When Peridot stops wiggling and crying out, she says she could perhaps agree to that.