#why do you have shoulder pauldrons but no chest armor

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp prompt #13: Hell to Pay

They say there are only two things certain in life: death and taxes. That’s why even the Joker doesn’t fuck with the IRS.

However, unfortunately for the Joker the other certainty is death and he has yet to pay his dues. Just like how he could only get away with tax evasion for so long, there are only so many times the Joker can dodge death.

Death is coming to collect, with interest.

And the Joker will have hell to pay.

~ A dark green cloud swirls over the city. From it, emerge three oppressive figures:

The one on the far left with flowing hair like white-hot fire. His vambraces made of (what appeared to be) molten glass stopped under his fingers, which then extend into into claws that seemed to drip lava. He had spiked obsidian pauldrons on his shoulders, fastening a luminous, stark-white cape to his shoulders. He wore a coronet of lightning and wielded a flail that appeared to be made of coal chains and a shrunken Red Giant star.

The second on the far right had a helm of dark iron wreathed in a plume of purple flame. His gauntlets and sword flamed with green hellfire. A pure black sheath seemingly made of void and a silver hunting horn were tied to his waist. He wore an armor forged of shadows and proofed with fear. He rode atop a mighty stead. An inky dark stallion with a curved horn and bat-like wings. His form was constantly slightly shifting depending on the angle which you viewed him making him appear larger and more slippery than he was, enhancing his disquieting nature.

The third stood in the middle, smaller but no less terrifying than her companions. Her hair was wild with movement, only just visible because it appeared as if someone had bound the winds to her head. She wore a tiara made of storm clouds and pearls. She carried with her a spear, the shaft crafted of amazonite and the tip of a clear quartz, almost reminiscent of sea salt. At her hip lay a whip made of a restrained gale and a sea glass knife. She wore armor that appeared to be Greco-Roman in origin: a chest plate made of some sort of coral-like material and a battle skirt decorated with metallic bronze feathers.

They slowly descent on the city, bringing down a sense of power and dread. They paused at the top of Wayne Tower, where the city's vigilantes had all gathered in an attempt to create and feasible plan of action to discern what these beings want. The young woman in the middle speaks and the wind carries her voice. She is not loud but it the whole of Gotham hears her words.

"Greetings, Heroes of Gotham. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Spirit, Princess and Head Diplomat of the Infinite Realms. This is Samhain, the Fright Knight, loyal knight to the king,” she gestured to her right before switching to her left “and this is Prince Wraith, current General in Chief of the Realms. We come to you as the King’s Guard and entourage. We have official business in your city and wish to civilly notify you of our presence. The King will be arriving shortly and your cooperation would be great fully received.”

Batman moved forward to shake her hand and address the situation.

“I’m afraid that we prefer not to have unknowns operating within the city. Would you be able to tell us what business you have here? Perhaps we could reach an agreement?” Batman tried to negotiate as politely as he could. He did not want to risk offending the evidently powerful beings.

Princess Spirit’s smile sharpened as she thrummed her finger against her knife. She spoke again with an unnervingly pleasant tone.

“It appears you do not understand. We are not asking for your permission.” Her grip around his hand tightened. “ We are informing you.” She finished releasing his hand.

Batman withdrew his aching hand and regarded her with the beginnings of a protest on his lips. She didn’t allow him to speak.

“ This is out of your jurisdiction Batman. This is a matter of the Realms and the Afterlife. Whatever worldly rules or morals you wish to impose on those who enter this city do not apply to us. We will do our best to work within them, so as to appease you and to attempt to maintain a friendly relationship but in the macrocosm of the multiverse and afterlives you have no official power over us. Additionally, we have direct permission to operate here however we see fit from the City Spirit herself, Lady Gotham.”

Batman’s shadow seemed to fluctuated. His and his team's shadows moved from beneath them, closer to the Princess. Lady Gotham, though not manifesting, was making her presence and approval known. Batman could not deny what he was seeing. His team shifted uncomfortably behind him. He appealed to her once more.

“ I see that we can’t stop you. We don’t want to get in your way either. Could you at least tell us why you are here?”

She smiled as if telling a joke, “All will be revealed in time”

Suddenly, there was a loud noise that sounded like tearing fabric. The green clouds mixed with purples and blues and began to churn faster. The cyclone emitted a flashes of bright light. In unison all three of the King’s Guard lifted up from the roof and took place underneath the eye of the wind storm.

Spirit holds her spear aloft. With one swift, commanding move she slams the butt of her spear down, creating a platform out of solidified air.

Wraith bellows out smoke and ash onto the platform to discolor it. With ferocious and precise movements his claws to carve in a sigil, leaving a soft orange glow against the black and gray.

Samhain sheathes his sword and pulls his horn from his waist. He wills his dark stead to rear up as he blows the horn, letting out one loud prolonged cry.

The three warriors stand at attention and Princess Spirit calls the winds to project her voice once more.

“ Now introducing the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, High King of the In-Between, The Great One, The Benevolent King, The Peace Maker, The Guardian of Souls, The One with the Cloak of Stars and the Crown of Frozen Light, The Perfect Balance, Ancient of Space and Reality, The Infinite King: Phantom!”

With a flash of white light a figure appear in the center of the platform. Simultaneously, the three knights bow in reverence.

The King has arrived.

As the Heroes of Gotham regain clear vision they are met with a striking figure.

There stood a toned young man appearing both boyishly young, yet wisened and weathered. He had side swept hair the creeped to the bottom of his neck. His skin was pale with an icy blue tint. He opened his eyes to reveal they shone an electric green. Upon his head rest a crown made of a crystalline material, reminiscent of an aurora. He wore a navy blue cloak that had a rich purple hood lined with stark white fur. The underside displayed a shifting galaxy pattern. His under suit was the same midnight black as Samhain’s. He donned golden arm bands and a gold chest plate in style quite similar to Spirit’s. His hand were covered in snow white gauntlets that matched Wraith’s vambraces.

They all stood in awe, beholden to the almost divine figure.

The king sent them a gentle smile. It was warm and comforting yet sent a chill down their shoulders.

King Phantom began to fly down toward the center of the city, his entourage fell into step behind him. He hovered several hundred feet over Wayne tower and looked down at the city. He then spoke in a booming voice, his tone kind but commanding.

“ I humbly greet the Lady Gotham, her champions, and her citizens,” the shadows curled toward him appreciatively. “ I am grateful for your cooperation in our effort to rectify a great injustice. As High King of the Infinite Realms it is one of my duties to preside over the afterlife. To bring guidance, peace, and justice to the souls under my jurisdiction. Recently, it has been brought to my attention that there is a soul among you who has not only dodged death, but caused great strife to a vast number of souls who call for justice.”

On the roof of Wayne Enterprises Jason and Damian both stiffen, but remain firm in their gaze toward the king. The king looks out at the city and sparing them the quickest of glances. He continues onward.

“ The man formerly know as Jack Napier, now called The Joker. He has avoided death on many an occasion but his life should have ended moment he fell into a vat of chemicals. Since then he has sent hundreds more to the afterlife. He has long yet to pay his dues. That is why on the behalf of justice, restoring balance, and of my subjects I officially condemn Jack Napier.”

“Jack Napier, you have been allowed 24 hours turn yourself into our custody in order to be put on trial for your crimes in the Infinite Realms. Should you fail to turn youself in, we shall take that as an admission of guilt and acceptance to be punished for your actions. After the 24 hours are up, Samhain shall use his horn to summon The Hunt and we shall track you down.”

His gaze passed specifically over Red Hood, one of the Oracle’s drones, Nightwing, Signal, Red Robin, and Batman before he spoke his next words.

“All those souls who have been wronged by the Joker, both living and deceased, who wish to have a hand in their justice have been invited to join The Hunt if they so choose.”

The king lifted his hand, calling the swirling green clouds to his gather in his palm. The clouds swiftly rearranged themselves into a smokey timer hanging in the sky.

An impish smirk graced King Phantom’s face as he let out a malicious laugh and gave his final decree.

“ Your time begins now!”

[dindjarindiaries]

I Still See You

summary: In the aftermath of the Morak mission, Din’s faced with a crisis you only hope you can help to resolve somehow.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

tags: angst, trauma, religious guilt, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff

rating: T

word count: 3.582k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

You could only take your first deep breath when Din was finally back in your sight. He trudged down the boarding ramp of Boba Fett’s vessel, a stark contrast to the confidence with which he carried himself on Karthon upon facing Mayfeld. The Imperial armor he wore was no doubt responsible for that.

These thoughts were shoved to the back of your mind as you closed the gap between you with hurried steps. Your greeting was breathless in your hardly concealed desperation. “Hey.” You set your hand on his shoulder that was down a pauldron, a substitution for the embrace you so badly wished to give him. You knew better with the eyes of others watching you. “How’d it go?”

Din took a gentle grasp on your wrist and subverted your expectations in a way that made your eyes go wide. He dropped your hand from his shoulder and, despite the watching eyes, wrapped his arms around you, his gloved palms splayed upon your back. He was tense with a breath you could feel in the heaviness of his shoulders as you held him back, but he released the tension with a sigh of relief as his fists gently closed around the material of your tunic.

He was grounding himself back to you, and as sweet as that feeling was, it was also harrowing. Something had gone wrong. Your heart sunk into the depths of your stomach. Have we lost all hope of getting Grogu back?

“We got the coordinates.” Din spoke as if he had just read your mind. His voice was quiet, but not enough to give anything away.

You exhaled in your own relief, your eyes closing as you held him tighter. “Thank the stars.” You paused to see if he would reveal what was behind the invisible weight on his shoulders, and when he didn’t, you spoke once again. “What else?”

Din’s chest inflated with a breath. “That’s it. The mission’s done.” He pulled away from you but kept you close, gesturing with his helmeted head back to the ship behind him. “I’m letting Mayfeld change before I do the same.” His rasp slightly gave out as he said the words, a tell only you could identify.

You gave him another once-over and moved closer to him. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Din looked away from you, one of his gloved hands holding his fist as he let out a gentle exhale. “Just… had a run-in with some pirates.” He rolled his shoulders and tapped the armorless one you had been holding earlier. “This armor isn’t as strong as beskar.”

You weren’t fully convinced, but his logic tracked. There was no doubt a fight without his beskar would leave him sore, especially if he had forgotten about the fact he wasn’t wearing it. “How many pirates?”

Din huffed, his hands falling back to his sides. “Let’s just say it was more than one.”

You managed to chuckle with him as you nudged his bare shoulder with your own. “That explains all those explosions.”

The visor of Din’s Imperial helmet gave you an evident once-over. “You weren’t near them, were you?”

“No, not at all.” You couldn’t help smiling at his concern for you. “The three of us were just surprised by them at the lookout.”

Din nodded. “Good.”

Something still wasn’t right, and it hung between you like a dense storm cloud. Even as Din’s visor looked beyond you, his gloved hand found yours, and he held your fingers in his grasp. The move was subconscious, another act of grounding that he had to do.

Yet, he still wouldn’t tell you why.

You wanted to believe, and could truly believe, that it was just the longing for Grogu, and the guilt that had been eating away at him ever since Tython. That was what had kept him up at night whenever you attempted rest before this mission. In his eyes, it was his own failure, and it always would be until he could make things right.

Now, he had the coordinates. You all did. You had the chance to help him make things right, but that darkness didn’t disappear from him. In fact, it was more intense than before.

“How was Mayfeld?” You hoped the question would ease the tension somehow, or at least help you get to the root of whatever Din was hiding from you. “I almost thought he wouldn’t make it back with the way he was talking before you left.”

Din tensed. So, it had something to do with Mayfeld. That didn’t surprise you; it only made you kick yourself for not thinking of it earlier. “It was… better than expected.” Din nodded and looked at you again. “He wasn’t as bad as I thought he’d be.” He gave his head a quick tilt to the side. “Most of the time, at least.”

“Yeah?” You offered him a small smile, hoping it would either dispel or reveal the invisible weight he held upon his shoulders. “I bet that bonding time spent inside the juggernaut wasn’t awkward at all.”

That at least got a chuckle out of Din. “Yeah. It was…” He trailed off, his visor looking into the distance again. His grasp on your hand pulsated, as if he couldn’t decide whether to hold on or let go.

You gave him time, but soon, your concern got the best of you. Your voice was a whisper as you called for him. “Din?”

Din’s visor found your gaze, though he couldn’t speak before someone else did. “Good work back there,” Cara’s voice announced from behind you. You closed your eyes and took a breath, forcing yourself to mask your worry for now as you turned to face her. She nodded at Din. “Destroying the facility was a good call.”

“It wasn’t mine.” Din gestured to the ship behind him. “It was Mayfeld’s.”

Cara raised an eyebrow. “Huh.” Her tone revealed her genuine surprise. “Well, he really has some sharpshooter in him, I’ll give him that. It was a nice shot.”

“It was.”

“You made it easy for us.” It was Fennec who now joined the group, and she rested the end of her rifle against the ground to lean on it as she offered Din a nod of her own. “The three of us didn’t have to do much.”

“I saw your shots when we made our exit.” Din’s hand had dropped yours when Cara approached, but it remained busy at his side, pulling tight into a fist before relaxing again. “We couldn’t have made it without them.”

Your jaw tightened at that. The same thought had run through your mind whilst you were helping Cara and Fennec shoot down the Imperials. It’s what made your shots even more lethal.

“Mando!” Mayfeld’s voice was the one that grabbed everyone’s attention that time. Din practically whipped over his shoulder to face Mayfeld, who had changed back into the clothes he had been given at the beginning of the mission. “You’re good to go.”

Din tilted his helmet. “That was fast.”

Mayfeld huffed. “Yeah, that’s ‘cause I don’t have a thousand layers of armor to exchange.” He patted Din’s shoulder as he passed him by, and you were shocked to see that Din wasn’t bothered by it. “Good luck getting that off. It’s harder than it was to put on, and I didn’t think that was possible.”

Din snorted, and after a moment’s hesitation in which you were certain he shuffled towards you, he walked back towards the ship. You watched him the whole way, your jaw circling as you read him the best you could. Based on his interaction with Mayfeld, that wasn’t the key, after all. There was something far, far worse he was hiding, but you couldn’t think of what it would be.

There was a gentle hand on your shoulder, and as you turned to face it, you met Cara’s comforting glance. “So,” she began, clearly trying to get your mind off Din for the time being, “I heard the mission was a success.”

You cracked a genuine smile at that. “Yes. We have the coordinates.” Your gaze found Mayfeld’s and you nodded at him. “Thank you for your help.”

Mayfeld held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, it wasn’t really my choice.” Cara rolled her eyes as you lifted an eyebrow in warning. “But, really, it was mostly Mando. I just…” he paused, stalling as his gaze looked off to the side, “supported him.”

Your brow furrowed. Before you could interrogate him, Cara continued the conversation, remaining curt with him so as to not give him any true authority—despite how well the mission went. You were too lost inside your own mind to pay any attention to what they were saying. Mayfeld’s behavior was almost as odd as Din’s.

There was something you weren’t being told, and Din wasn’t the only one keeping it a secret.

Only the chiming of the comm link on your belt could pull you from your worried reverie. You stepped out of the circle the group had made and held the comm close to your lips. “Din?” Your gaze pierced through the open hatch of Boba’s ship. “Is everything okay?”

There was a pause before Din spoke. “Can you come help me?” Your heart shattered at the way his voice shook even through the comm link. “I… need help re-suiting.”

That was fair. You had been a part of the routine in helping Din remove and re-suit his beskar for so long that it was no surprise he needed your help to do it now—but something about it still felt different. That wasn’t a request. It was a plea. “Of course. I’m on my way.” You hung the comm link back on your belt and turned your head towards the group. “I’ll be back.”

As you started to walk towards the ship, Cara shot a lighthearted joke towards you. “You two better not take long! We’ve got an Imp to hunt!”

You lifted your middle finger without looking back at her, even if the joke managed to temporarily dispel the darkness from your racing thoughts. You smiled and shook your head as you lowered your hand, but as soon as you stepped into Boba’s ship and caught sight of Din within its depths, every sensation of warmth within you died.

For the first time since you met him many years ago, you were looking upon a pair of brown eyes instead of a dark visor.

You wanted to cover your eyes, turn your back on him, do anything to keep yourself from breaking Din’s Creed, but there was no point. The damage had been done. All you could do was stare, your gaze no doubt leaving a fiery trail across the skin of his face as you observed every inch of it.

One thousand emotions hit you all at once; the grief of knowing what Din had lost in doing this, the elation of finally getting to put a face to your heart, the concern of looking into an empty gaze, the blazing warmth of realizing he was even more handsome than you had imagined. It was dizzying.

The only thing that could cut through the noise of your own mind and heart was Din’s shattered statement. “I can’t do it.”

You frowned, then looked at what he was holding. His helmet sat between his gloved hands, the empty visor facing you. Din’s own gaze was studying it, watching as the metal rocked between his trembling hands. Your furrowed brow loosened.

Din thought he had already broken his Creed before you even stepped inside the ship.

You took a cautious step towards him. “Din…”

“The Creed says I can’t put this back on again.” You watched the corner of Din’s mouth pull tight before it relaxed again. There was a place under his eye that began to twitch, and you wished more than anything that you knew the tells of his face just as you knew them on the rest of his body. “I’ve made my sacrifice.”

You continued to close the gap between you with careful steps. “All you did was exchange one helmet for another, Din. And not for long, either. You did what you had to for the foundling in your charge.”

Din shook his head, his jaw pulled tight as his gaze rose to meet yours again. You froze, the electricity of it shocking you whole, despite the devastation you found there in the depths of his brown eyes. “No.” He paused, swallowing hard as he focused on his helmet again. “They saw me.”

You kept your voice soft as you pressed on. “Who saw you?”

Din slowly fell back onto the chair that was behind him. His gaze never once left the helmet, as if looking anywhere else would sever his sole tether to the galaxy. “Everyone in that room saw me.”

You were finally close enough to touch him, but you knew better than to reach for his face, as badly as you wanted to. Instead, your hand covered one of his on his helmet, and you knelt down to get closer to his level. Your quiet comfort allowed Din to explain himself.

“There was a terminal that held the coordinates to Gideon’s cruiser. It required a facial scan.” Din lifted his thumb to caress one of your fingers the best he could. “I had no other choice. It was either that or…” He couldn’t even bring the thought to life.

“You made the right one.” You nodded at Din, pleased to at least earn his gaze once again.

“I know.” Din’s voice lowered to an empty whisper as that place beneath his eye twitched again. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

You took a deep breath to keep yourself composed for his sake. “I understand.” Your free hand ran over the top of his helmet that continued to sit in his lap. “Removing your helmet to save a foundling, though… is that not the highest honor of your people?”

Din hesitated, and he blinked a few times before nodding. You smiled in encouragement.

“This wasn’t you removing your helmet for a simple pleasure or for an escape from who you are, Din.” You took his hand from his helmet and held it between both of yours. “This was you doing everything you could to save someone in your care.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Someone you love.”

Din’s eyes closed at that, and he squeezed them shut more and more as he tucked his head towards the shoulder that bore his mudhorn pauldron. His voice shook again as he spoke. “I hope he’s okay.”

“It won’t be long now until we have him back.” You ran your thumbs over his hand. “Thanks to you.”

Din reopened his eyes and found your gaze again. For a moment, his lips curled up in a small smile, one that was notable enough to make your stomach fill with butterflies as you witnessed it for the first time. It was short-lived, however, as he soon began to frown and lose himself in the depths of your own gaze. His voice was a pained whisper. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head at that. “For what? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Din took a hold of one of your wrists and guided your hand to the side of his face. As soon as you touched the warmth of his skin, he leaned into your palm, his eyes closing for a moment before he faced you with what felt like tangible despair. “I wanted it to be you.”

He didn’t have to explain it. He had told you enough times over the years for you to know. He had always wanted you to be the first to see him again, and he was intent on making that happen after this quest was over.

You pieced your own shattered heart together and smiled at him. “And here I am.” Your thumb ran over the skin under his eye that had twitched before, and based on the way his eyes welled with tears he no doubt refused to shed, you were able to determine what that tell of his meant. “I’m still seeing you.”

Din’s gaze gave you a nervous once-over. The warmth returned to your body upon getting to see it, rather than having to rely on the movement of his helmet. “What do you think?”

You smiled more and gently set aside his helmet with your free hand. “Can I show you?”

His gaze flickered to your lips before he nodded with another small smile of his own. You rose and took your place upon him, one that was as familiar as his lips were—only this time, it would finally be different. There would be no dent across his nose from the lip of his helmet, and no wrinkles in the skin around your eyes from a cloth pulled tight across them. Instead, it would be you and him, as pure and as perfect as you were meant to be.

You held onto him with all the same desperation he had just shown you, one of your hands cupping the side of his jaw and neck as the other wound itself tight in the hair that flowed freely from his head. Your mouth slotted over his time and time again and with each breath you shared, you intended to pull the darkness from within him, as if you could make a sacrifice as great as his own by taking away all his pain. You tilted his head back further to deepen it, intensifying every feeling until it could overwhelm whatever lies and harsh truths tore at his mind.

You only pulled away from each other when your lungs demanded it, your lips lingering as you relished in the last bit of sweet intoxication you could get. You opened your eyes to see Din’s still closed, as if he too was savoring the moment. His eyes began to flutter open when you ran your nails over the skin of his neck, guiding your hand to his cuirass.

“What did that tell you?” Your voice was breathy from both your lack of air and your sweet desire.

The corner of Din’s mouth rose before he answered in the same tone. “That I made a mistake making you wait this long for me.”

You returned his smile. “You haven’t made a single mistake.” You leaned down to pick his helmet up and tucked it under your arm. “Especially not today.”

Din’s gaze clouded with a brief spell of darkness that faded the moment you lifted your free hand to brush his hair away from his face.

“You’re everything I dreamed of and more, Din.” You kissed his forehead, smiling against his skin when he physically relaxed underneath your touch. When you pulled away, you faced him with sweet severity. “You will always be worth the wait.”

Din smiled, a sight so breathtakingly beautiful you never wanted to let it go—but Din was eager to share in your love again as his hand cupped the back of your neck and pulled you back to him. This time, he was the one who devoured you, his lips remaining on yours while his hands explored places that left you flustered.

You only broke apart when you heard a familiar voice yell from outside the ship. “Hey, kids! I said don’t take long!” Cara’s words made the two of you pull away instantly, and once you were sure she wasn’t looking inside the ship, you laughed with one another. “We’ve got other things to do!”

“We’ll be right out!” You managed to compose your laughter enough to get the words out, and with a deep breath, you fell back into severity. You took the helmet from under your arm and held it between your hands. “You may not be able to do this, but…” you paused and lowered the helmet over Din’s head, “I can do it for you.”

Din rested his helmet against your forehead, his hands holding your wrists to bring your hands to his chest. After a long pause, he spoke with a voice that was strained with meaning. “Thank you.” He gave your wrists a gentle squeeze. “I love you.”

You beamed at him. “I love you, too.” You added a kiss to his visor and sat up more. “I’ll always be here for you, Din. You know that.”

“I do.” Din eased his hands upon your waist and lifted the two of you from the chair. “That’s why I commed you.”

You only smiled wider at his words, your gaze searching the depths of his visor for the brown warmth hidden beneath it as he ran his hand over your back. Not everything was resolved; it was never that easy. Din would be wrestling with this day for a long time. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that his sacrifice was given even more meaning, and he understood that you saw him in a way that went beyond mere sight. For now, that would be enough, just as he would always be enough for you.

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

[dincrypt]

Hush

Summary: Din needs sleep, but it’ll take a bit of coaxing.

Content: Just sleepy fluff

He was rolling his shoulders again.

It was the closest thing to a tell Din possessed, and had taken you almost a year with him to decipher. He never yawned. Not that you had seen, anyway. Never complained. But the moment you noticed him straightening his posture, rolling his shoulders back as though it were nothing more than a stretch, you knew Din was exhausted.

All it took was a rut. Normally, he was wise enough to recognize when he needed sleep, and responsible enough to take it. He’d shed his armor, wrap himself around you in the warmth of your shared bunk, and soon be letting out the soft snores that lulled your own eyes into slumber.

Occasionally though, sleep was denied to him for one reason or another. An uncooperative quarry. A necessary but especially long haul through sub light. It didn’t matter what it was, the moment Din was denied his regular dose of rest, suddenly sleep was jettisoned off his priority list, and he was impossible.

Now, his tell was slipping through the cracks, thinly disguised amongst smaller unnecessary movements as he fiddled among the ship, tinkering with circuits that were in perfect working order. You looked up from Grogu’s bed, having finally coaxed him to sleep. Your eye roll went unnoticed by Din.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” You suggested softly.

‘Huh?” He mumbled without looking up from a very important lighting rig, imperative to the function of exactly six green and red buttons.

“I said you need some rest,” you tried again, crossing the hull to touch his pauldron softly. “Come lay down.”

“Oh. That’s alright, I’m not tired.”

You nearly let a laugh slip. You managed to turn it into a sigh, knowing the former would only aggravate him. “Well I’m tired. And you know I sleep better when you’re with me. Won’t you come lay with me, just for a bit?”

That, apparently, was more palatable. His frame drooped and you knew you had him. “Well…I suppose if it’ll help you…”

“It will. Absolutely.”

“Ok then…”

You led him away from the oh-so-vital light circuits and helped him remove his armor. This had always been one of your favorite things about your husband, getting to see his warrior exterior stripped away, leaving you with the soft man you knew and loved underneath. He was fully capable of doing it himself, of course. He had for years. But you loved to be the one to slip it off piece by piece, feeling his muscles relax beneath your touch. He knew this, so he let you.

You left his helmet for last, knowing he preferred to remove it himself. Once the last piece of metal was off his body, you brought him to bed.

Despite his earlier argument, he practically melted into the mattress. Your heart swelled as Din crawled over to you and laid his head on your chest without hesitation. His arm draped over your stomach as one of your hands stroked his back, the other climbing into his hair.

You had marveled at it a million times, and you would no doubt do so a million more, because you would never quite get over the fact that a battle hardened Mandalorian, who everyone saw as a merciless killer, trusted and loved you enough to relax in your arms and go to sleep. You were one of only two beings in the universe who could touch him without consequence.

He began to mumble. Another thing he did when exhaustion got the best of him.

“I love you so much…”

“I know. I love you too. Go to sleep.” You continued to run your fingers through his hair, soft and thick.

“You’re so warm.”

“So are you.”

“And so sweet.”

You chuckled, drawing your hand down to stroke his cheek with two gentle fingers. “Go to sleep my love.”

“M’trying…”

“No you’re not, you’re talking.”

“Mm…”

He slowly fell into silence, his breath deepening. You listened for the onset of snores. Before they came, he spoke again,

“You didn’t kiss me.”

You held a sigh. “What?”

“Kiss me…you didn’t…you always kiss me goodnight…”

You stroked his hair again, fingers digging softly in his scalp. “You’re too tired love, just sleep.”

“Can’t…” his voice was muffled in your chest, “Can’t until you kiss me…”

Your eyes rolled with a gentle smile. “Then come up here and get it I suppose.”

He raised his head, but his eyes stayed closed. He didn’t lean up, apparently lacking the energy. Instead he simply lulled his head to the side and presented his pursed lips. You grinned and craned your neck down to give him a soft peck on the mouth.

Instead of laying back down, he whined. “Another?”

“No,” you breathed through a laugh. “Go to sleep.”

“Mmmmm,” he complained, brow furrowing over still-closed eyes. “Please?”

“Huuuh…Maker…”

You humored him, lingering a little longer in hopes of satisfying him this time. It either worked or he lost the energy to hold his head up, because his face planted back into your chest. Your heart warmed with a mixture of love and mirth as you compared this sleepy eyed boy, begging for kisses, to the blood stained hunter who had shot down a quarry mere hours ago. Sometimes it felt like you were married to two different people.

You continued to work your fingers down his back with smooth, rhythmic strokes, humming softly. Your other hand ran down his hair to the nape of his neck, playing with the soft locks there. Din’s breathing gradually deepened, then slowed. But you knew he wasn’t asleep yet.

“Love you…” he murmured, “So much, darling…love you…love you…”

You tilted your head down to kiss his hair. “Sssh, I love you too. Sleep.”

“So warm…so soft…love you…”

The last syllable faded and you felt his mumbling lips finally come to a stop. Not a moment later, his soft and shallow snores graced your ears. You held him a little tighter, echoing his words of adoration as sleep finally overtook you.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Fool's Errand Pt 6

Part (6) of Fool's Errand, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Bit of a shorter one today, but figured that was better than holding out for another week!

Warnings: reference to previous medical procedures (blood/ needles), wound cleaning, some, uh, tension, child trauma

WC: 2,648

“Still alive up here?” I called warmly as I entered the cockpit. Echo’s helm tipped back to look at me with what I knew to be an unamused stare.

“How’re they doing?” He asked, attention turning back to the viewport. I moved closer to him before answering, sitting lightly on the edge of the copilot’s chair as I set my pack between my feet.

“Tech and Crosshair are still out. I can’t fix Tech’s arm while we’re moving, but I got a chest tube in Hunter.” I didn’t have the strength to hide the exhaustion in my voice, adrenaline finally quelling now that no one was in imminent danger. “Wrecker’s knee still needs to be reduced, but I might have to rig a damn pully system to pop it back into place.” I added with a deep sigh. “The girl will be alright – minor burns here and there, but nothing a little bacta won’t fix… Which just leaves you.” Forcing some feint of strength back into my voice, I tilted my head expectantly toward him.

“Not a whole lot you can do while I’m flying.” He dismissed. “Only have one hand to steer with. What’s the story with the girl?” Ignoring his excuse, I pushed myself back to my feet and walked around the chair to his injured shoulder.

“Not sure yet,” I replied, attention clearly focused on the task before me. “Don’t crash us. They found her where the senator was supposed to be.”

“Doc.” He grumbled, trying to shrug me off.

“Echo.” I retorted in the same tone. “I can get some bacta on the worst of it, at least.” His chest swelled in preparation, I was sure, to voice some further argument, but I cut him off with a sharp look and he let out a deep sigh.

“Apparently,” the conspiratory lilt in my voice offered both distraction and gratitude as I removed his shoulder pauldron, stance carefully widened to better steady myself in the event of sudden turbulence, “she saw Tech and immediately threw herself at him.” The very edges of my lips pulled up in a poorly restrained, knowing grin as Echo’s bucket dropped slightly, breath held lest a barely silenced snort escape him. “He had to carry her all the way to the ship.” I continued, “And I’ll give you one guess who she clung to while he was piloting.”

“Oh no…” He couldn’t fully suppress the threat of laughter from his hushed sigh.

“Yup.” The word popped with that same mirth, pleased to note the ease in his posture as I brought my sheers to his shoulder, snipping quickly through the ruined fabric to better expose the burn beneath.

“Echo…” I couldn’t help the groan in my voice upon seeing the wound, nor the huff that followed at how he pointedly avoided looking away from the viewport. “I swear, if you’re about to say that you’ve had worse….” I interrupted the instant he started to respond, and the silence that followed was more than enough to justify the accusation.

Releasing a tense breath, I stepped away from him a moment to dig back into my bag.

“Want me to numb it?” I offered, voice instantly dropping into a soft murmur. He didn’t answer at first, but I was already readying the medication. He hated burns. He didn’t need to explain why; not with me, and I hoped he was far passed feeling any need to pretend otherwise. When he gave a small nod, I didn’t try to hide my own relief as I returned to his side, hand reaching out to rest lightly on his forearm in some silent show of support or appreciation or some unspoken combination of that and so much more, before touching the autoinjector lightly against the blackened skin.

There were moments in which I hated our armor. I hated the distance it created between us when I so desperately wanted to offer the comfort of a gentle touch. I hated the harsh veneer it forced upon the brilliant, kind-hearted people within; hated how it sought to rob them of their individuality in the Kaminoan’s endeavor toward perfect, unthinking uniformity, but in that moment, I was grateful for it. I was grateful because it granted the man before me a mask to hide behind that he might be free to let his face twist in full display of the pain suffered beneath my ministrations. I longed for him to feel no need for such a façade with me but wasn’t so naïve as to feign otherwise, and his comfort was of far greater importance than my pride.

“I’m going to try to get under your rerebrace a bit.” I warned, already shifting the plastoid tube awkwardly down his arm just enough to reach the edges of marred skin. He offered neither argument nor consent, attention locked on controlling the ship absent what wretched distraction my actions caused, but I could feel the full breadth of tension coiled through his toned body, could see the powerful muscles about his shoulder flex, steering column of the ship groaning beneath his iron grip. I didn’t bother voicing another warning as I did the same with his chest plate, carefully cleaning away the layer of charred, dead skin before smearing the raw flesh beneath with that soothing, blue gel.

“Almost done.” I promised quietly, movements far more delicate now as I slipped a bandage over the wound, eager to keep the edges of his armor from grating against it. My hand lingered for a moment longer, palm spread atop the sterile fabric gleaming stark white against the darkness of his ruined blacks, fingers spread just enough for my thumb to feel the heat radiating from his chest, to catch the steady thrumming of his heart.

He'd barely made a sound when he’d been hit; had played it off so effortlessly in the exhausting hours that followed of helping me drag Hunter through those endless corridors while taking out however many dozens of droids tried to stop us, voicing no hint of complaint or hesitation. I hated the feeling of admiration just as much as I hated how desperately worried for him it made me.

His helm shifted ever so slightly, gaze dropping toward that soft touch for several seconds before lifting just enough that I was sure he was looking at me, and I felt my eyes turn toward him as though no opaque visor lay between us, as though I could see the pale gold of eyes that had known far too much pain; eyes that I longed only to see shining with carefree bliss as they had when we floated in the crystalline pools of Deveron, before the chaos of my brother’s death and the confusion of everything that followed.

The subtle rhythm dancing beneath my thumb quickened, breath shallowing as he suddenly went still, and in that moment, those long weeks of silence vanished. I remembered the first time I’d heard him laugh – truly laugh – back when I was a stranger, a threat, who’d trapped him into trusting me before revealing how that trap had backfired and asking for his help after all. I remembered the safety I’d felt from his presence after being attacked by that mercenary Sergeant. I remembered holding him as he trembled with the afterimage of nightmares I couldn’t imagine, and I remembered how he’d held me in the wake of losing myself to a grief that nearly broke me after losing my brother.

Echo was the first one among this squad to give me a chance, the first I truly considered to be my friend. The weight pressing against my heart from how ruthlessly I’d pushed us apart crippled me, fingers subtly tightening in some subconscious plea to keep him near me, if only for what few seconds of quiet might be stolen in the too-short flight back to the Marauder, and the way his body seemed to turn toward me, to lean into that touch with the same selfish, impossible want left my breath shuttering slightly with promises and apologies and whispers that could never be granted voice.

“Doc!” My head jerked up at Wrecker’s hushed shout, chest bucking with a sharp gasp. Swallowing back the swell of emotion still lingering just on the verge of breaking through, I snatched his pauldron and quickly began reattaching it to his shoulder.

“Try not to move it too much for at least a couple hours.” I ordered, already dashing around him to grab my bag. “And drink some damn water, or I’ll shove an IV in you, too!” The added threat thrown over my shoulder was made in jest if only to feign some useless façade of ignorance to the tension yet lingering in his silence.

“Wrecker?” I called breathlessly as I raced back into the cabin, still trying to convince myself that my heart was racing solely from fear that he’d summoned me because of some imminent medical disaster. The towering clone only briefly met my eyes before nodding toward one of the seats beside him, and I followed his gaze to see the cowering figure of the small girl curled into the crash cough, tiny fingers trembling as they locked around the oversized harness strapped all around her.

Lips parting with a small gasp, I quickly went still, hands slowly raising, body automatically lowering to a knee. Bright, green eyes darted around, pupils dark and blown with a fear I knew too well.

“Hey, sweetie.” I murmured, voice as gentle and soothing as I could manage. “I know you’re scared, but I promise you: no one here is going to hurt you.” Those eyes darted from me to the still unconscious form of Crosshair across the aisle and then to Wrecker before returning to me. “That’s Crosshair,” I told her quietly, “He got bumped around a bit, just like you, but he’ll be alright, and the big guy behind you is his brother, Wrecker – he gives the best hugs you’ve ever felt!” Wrecker offered a tentative smile as she peaked nervously toward him. “I think you already met their other brother, Tech.” I added, pointing, and I felt myself smile at the flash of familiarity that washed over her upon following my gesture. After telling mine and Hunter’s names, I took a small step forward, relieved that she didn’t balk at my advance.

“I bet those burns don’t feel very good.” My heart broke at the way her chin quivered slightly, head shaking as her arms pulled even tighter against her chest. “I have something that’ll help. I promise, it won’t hurt.” I added warmly, movements slow as I pulled a tube of bacta from my bag. Recognition lit in those shockingly expressive eyes and, without further prompting, stretched a leg out toward me. My breath caught in a quiet chuckle as I pushed myself up and crossed the few meters between us.

“No change with the others?” I asked Wrecker as I kneeled before the girl. He merely shook his head. Hunter and Tech, I expected little improvement from, but I didn’t like how long it was taking Crosshair to wake up. Resolving to check on him soon, I turned my attention back to the child.

“The place we found you was pretty scary. Do you remember how to you got there?” I asked. She watched carefully as I smeared some of the bacta onto my fingertips before gently dabbing it onto one of the larger burns on her shin, lips still pressed firmly together. “That’s okay,” I reassured her, worried that the memories might be too much for her to willingly talk about. “How about your name? Can you tell me your name?” After several more seconds of silence, I paused attention shifting from her dappled legs to those piercing eyes.

“She wouldn’t tell Tech, either.” Wrecker whispered. I tried not to let my uncertainty show, forcing my expression back into a warm smile before moving on to another patch of burnt skin.

“You know… we were looking for someone when Tech and Wrecker found you.” I said, voice dropping into a whisper as though it were some great secret, and her attention instantly shifted back to me expectantly. “He’s this really special Senator. Maybe you’ve heard of him?” I shot Wrecker a pleading look, cursing myself for not paying more attention to the man’s name.

“Uh, yeah; real special. Gno.” He stammered slightly, belatedly realizing what I was asking. A sharp gasp caught in the girl’s throat, her fear forgotten as she sat upright, hopeful gaze darting between us.

“Looks like you know him?” I teased, and she nodded so violently, the safety harness jangled around her. It wasn’t a huge jump to guess how, but I voiced the theory regardless. “Is he your dad?” Again, she nodded, lips parted around excited breaths, but, still, she made no effort to speak. I had to fight to quell the nervous dread stirring in my gut. Why had they taken the girl? Had they accidentally left her father behind in that abhorrent maze of underground tunnels? If they had, he’d be impossible to retrieve now…

“Was he down there with you?” I asked, pointedly ignoring the way Wrecker’s gaze had already darkened with the same theory. The girl paused before giving a halting nod, but then she shook her head and pointed up. My head automatically twisted to follow her gesture, but Wrecker didn’t miss a beat.

“They took ‘im away in a ship?” She looked at him for a long moment before nodding, and I couldn’t decide if I should be relieved or even more hopeless toward the prospect of him ever being found. “Maybe Tech can track ‘em. Doubt there’s a whole lot of folks coming and goin’ from that place.” I flashed him a brief smile before turning my attention back to the girl.

“We’ll just have to ask him when he wakes up.” I said as I finished the last spot on her leg. “Are you hungry? I bet they didn’t have anything tasty to eat down there.” The pleading look in her eyes made my heart twist, and I quickly reached back into my bag for ration bars and offered her a few different kinds. “Choose whichever color you like.” She bit her lips in that undeniably innocent display of childhood excitement as she reached for one. After helping her open it, I tossed another bar to Wrecker with a knowing grin.

“Alright, let’s see what’s going on with Mr Tall, Dark, and Grumpy.” I said, smiling reassuringly to the child.

Crosshair still hadn’t moved, and I couldn’t ignore the growing unease gnawing at my chest as I approached him, teeth absently nipping at the inside of my lip. I’d just begun reaching for his helmet when it suddenly shifted toward me, and I couldn’t silence the sharp gasp that tore from my throat nor the way my body jumped as my heart nearly leapt from my chest. His head shifted slightly in that mocking, judgmental tilt that instantly drew my lips back into a snarl.

“You kriffing-”

“Ah.” He interrupted, and I could hear the smirk in his raspy voice, “language.” The smug, chastising lilt drew several more curses to my tongue that I pointedly bit back, and his shoulders danced beneath a silent laughter. I tugged his bucket off with a touch more force than was necessary, treasuring the flash of annoyance in those sharp eyes.

“Look who’s awake!” I called over my shoulder, smile returning to my lips as his jaw tensed with understanding before I turned to see the girl watching us from across the cabin. “If you’d like, I bet Crosshair would love to keep you company for the trip.” I offered, and I had to bite back laughter of my own at the quiet grumble that caught in his throat.

Next Chapter

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[brisquad-unit-4402]

being gorgeous

HAHA SORRY I'M A LITTLE LATE TO THE 2.0 REVEAL THIRST PARTY i passed out while writing this yesterday and it shows. and then i've done nothing else today except for write, eat a donut, write, reheat some pork chops, write, join an online meeting, and write. it's 8:23 am. bonus points if you can pinpoint the exact moment i dropped my phone and fell asleep last night. and also the point where it turned morning here and i started getting goofy. literally no matter what happens all roads lead to Oh My God Why Is Shu So Beautiful

funny story while i was writing this: i wrote p much all of this on my pc and i have all of the noctyx puppets around my desk area but taichou is the only one that's actually on the desk and when i was starting out for the day i couldn't concentrate because he was just staring at me like ._. so i turned him around to face the wall and somehow that was what kicked off 3631 words???

shoutout to 🍰 anon for making soooo many of my neurons activate. we have a mutualistic symbiotic relationship and i think i'm going to go insane. i've spent the better part of the last 24 hours just writing this and nothing else i think i've actually lost it.

tags: established relationship, suggestive content, making out, 2.0 outfit, praise kink, humiliation kink, hurt/comfort, self-image positivity ig?, soft dom reader, gender neutral reader, sex references under the read more but there's no actual sex lol

⚠ suggestive/sexual content, praise kink, and humiliation kink under read more. content under read more is not intended for minors

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

All that muscle, and still Shu finds himself between a wall and a hard place. He wanted to try on something new, and naturally you were the first to check him out.

And, God, you checked him out. He wore a loose black robe covered in the skeletons and bones you were so used to seeing on a daily basis. The robe nearly grazed the floor of the changing room, and as he shuffled his feet, the fabric wrapped around the outline of Shu’s strong calves before returning to rest. A plume of fur adorned one shoulder while the other bore a moon pauldron that only drew your eye to the broad shoulders underneath. He tied his long hair up into a ponytail, the dark interrupted by streaks of pink and blond by his bangs, and purple hair fell down his back and caught the gleam of his bright eyes.

Though those bright eyes were cloudier with the shyness of being the center of your attention. He resolved himself to confront it. He cleared his throat and met your gaze, and asked, “Do you like it?”

“Shu, look at yourself.” You grasped him by the shoulders and turned him around to face the mirror. “Of course I do. You’re beautiful.”

He tried to keep a straight face, but there was no way he’d be able to hide his red ears with his hair tied up. “How do you just say things like that so easily?”

“Because it’s true,” you said. You rested your chin on his shoulder, right next to the armor, and watched the mirror as his face turned to roses the same shade as the marking on his forehead.

You get comfortable. “You’ve always been so handsome no matter what you do.” Your hands hold him by his waist, but it doesn’t take you long before one roams upwards. His waistline slopes out to his chest, and you feel Shu’s body shift as your hand slides under the fabric and cups one side of his chest. The mirror serves as a reminder that you were practically on top of him. “But honestly, Shu, you look so hot I can’t believe it.”

“I- I do?”

You mutter in agreement before you kiss his neck, languid and low where it meets his collarbone.

Shu gasps in surprise as it turns passionate, traces of your teeth along skin usually hidden by his hair. He softens into you as you fondle him, and when you circle his nipple he knows he’s doomed.

Teeth sink into his skin, and his breath hitches at the sudden pain. It quiets as your tongue soothes the mark, and goes blinding as you flick his nipple in time with a long lick. Shu can’t help but moan at that. His shoulder rises as nervous energy drips down his body from where your lips cling to his neck, and he knows you can feel him tremble as you toy with his nipple.

The kisses rise higher on his neck, a line of desperation even though you know you have all the time in the world. It’s more like you need to make him know he’s cherished. You weren’t kidding when you complimented him earlier; he’s always been good-looking, and you’ve never been shy about that. But trying a different look made him just as tense as he was excited, so you’re here to shoo all those insecurities away. After all, you’d be lying if you said his new look didn’t turn you on.

You take a glance at the mirror's reflection. Shu's eyes are shut. His long lashes flutter between his makeup, and his lips are parted as he takes all the sensations in. Meanwhile, you look sly and calculated as you cast a sideways glance to your reflection. A bit of your tongue pokes out of your mouth and along your latest attack.

Using the mirror, you take Shu's head in your hands as your lips run over his ear. His eyes snap open into lovely crystal, stunned and sparkling.

“I don’t think I can resist you,” you whisper. "Look at yourself."

He averts his eyes. "I mean, I'm not all that."

"Oh, you are." You turn him to the mirror as your fingers glaze along his chin. Your nails lightly scratch at his jawline, and he can't help but stare at the movement in the mirror.

Out of the corner of his vision, he catches his expression and nearly kicks himself. Was he really that out of control? His horrors are realized when he notices the bead of saliva at the corner of his mouth. He swats the back of his gloved hand over it.

But you catch Shu's hand before he can even wipe it away. "Don't."

"But..."

"Stay still."

Following your command wasn't so hard. He was frozen in place anyways.

It takes everything he has to not react as you drag your tongue up his jawline between the fingernail scrapes. His heart hammers as your lick curls perfectly around his lip to catch the saliva before sliding it back into place inside his mouth.

He follows what feels natural, and when his tongue meets yours, fire runs in your blood. Outside it, too. Sorcerous flames kick alive around his head, then fade just as quickly as they appeared. He's a light show even in his invisible unconscious, and sparks course in your open-mouthed kiss in jolts of hot heaviness.

The hand that caught his earlier leads him as he takes a step back, then another, and his third ends flush against the wall. Shu's ponytail swirls around from the movement, and brushes along your body as you pin him to the wall of the changing room.

There's a loud smack as you end the kiss, breathless and heated. Shu's lashes blur over his enchanted purple eyes, and a few strands of black and gold-blond hair get in the way of his face.

"So handsome," you say, and move his head back to the mirror. "You can still see yourself?"

He barely rustles out a yes, but you feel his head nod slowly between the nails on his jaw and tangled in his hair.

"Good. I'm glad you get to see how handsome you really are." Your grasp crawls up to his cheek. "Watch yourself, and don't dare to look away. I want you to see yourself become a beautiful mess. Can you do that for me?"

Another nod, slower this time.

"Say it."

Shu swallows, and struggles to put the words together. He didn't think he was ugly per se, but he always thought of himself as just plain average. One of the many so-so faces out there in the world. All your praise breaks through those thoughts like an arrow smack-dab in the center of a target, however, and he's abashed at how easily you can say something he's never considered himself as.

It's unfamiliar. A new feeling, really, and likely the one he was dreading when he decided to wear something new for a change. Shu doesn't consider himself a head-turner—that's usually reserved for one of his friends, and he's used to watching them in the limelight from his own comfortable corner of darkness—so now that he's the one against the wall with eyes on him and nowhere to run, hot shame tempers his blush. The mirror only intensifies the feeling.

He looks back at himself. His hair's already messed up from the hand against his scalp, and one side of his neck peppered with the indentation of fangs along the soft skin. Not to mention his decidedly uncute face, with hands far prettier than his own around his jawline, murky eyes crinkled from his perverted pleasure, and yet another string of saliva down from his swollen-red lips. It was probably left over from the kiss. He thinks he should call it disgusting.

Your face rests along his in the mirror, and he can feel your breath on his cheek as you massage his flustered face. You're way more attractive than he is, and he has to wonder: does such an average-looking guy like him really deserve to have such a beautiful person dote over him like this?

"It's okay to indulge yourself, you know," you suggest. Your voice is golden caramel and rich chocolate. "You really are gorgeous. Even if you don't believe it."

Gorgeous. The word bounces around his head. He's never been called gorgeous before, and he nearly turns away on instinct.

The new feeling, he decides, is being gorgeous.

You smooth over one of the long locks of hair along his chest, where you teased him earlier. It feels like silk through your fingers, and as you reach higher Shu's eyes widen just a little more. Then you see the glassiness between the color, and you realize there's more going on in his head than you thought.

"I'll take care of you, if you want me to." You put your agenda on hold just to make sure you aren't about to overwhelm Shu. "Do you want me to?"

"Reader, do you really think..." Shu lowers his head as he fights to form the sentence. "You really think I'm... that?"

"I do."

"And you're not just saying that?"

"You are, I swear. Here, let's take a break real fast." You step away and give Shu some space, but he keeps his back against the wall. He exhales, and the color drains from his face. “Stop me if you need me to. But when we met, I thought you were really pretty. I really liked your sense of style, and the colors in your hair, and I liked to sneak looks at your biceps." You laugh a little at that. "I love your eyes a lot. They're really bright, and whenever you smile, they always squint a little.

"That's one of the other things I really love about you, whenever you smile. You like to laugh. So you smile often, and it's always because they're something to be happy about, and that makes me happy too. Sometimes because it affects me too, and sometimes, just because I love whenever my partner gets to enjoy himself."

You scratch the back of your head. "And, um, I came off a little strong when I saw you, so I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to do that at all. It's just that I got used to seeing your usual outfit, so now that you're trying something new..." You laugh again, but this time it's a gentle giggle, and without lust fueling you, you feel a bit embarrassed. "I mean, I really did think you were beautiful before, especially once we got closer, and I got to explore you more. But this is a whole other level. You've really outdone yourself. Like, I couldn't even hold back when I saw you, I was just so attracted to you that I didn’t even think. I really should have, though. I didn’t mean to cross a boundary.”

Shu’s eyebrows raise. “What? You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just that…”

He trails off. He slumps over and slides down the wall with a sigh as he sits. His ponytail rests along the floor and along one of his sleeves. "I know you compliment me often, but I never thought you seriously meant it. No one's ever said things like that to me before."

"Really?" You sit next to him. "Should I stop?"

"No! No, you're fine. I mean. I think... It's not like I didn't like it." Shu buries his face into his hands and groans. "I really liked it, actually. I think it was just too new, and it's second nature for me to deny how good it feels, and—" He cuts himself off to muster up his courage. He lowers his hands just enough to peek out, but his fingers thread through each other and hide his face. "I've never been called gorgeous before."

"Was that okay?"

"It was perfect," he admits. His eyebrows relax, and his eyes squint. You don't need to see the rest of his face to know his lips curved up. But he dilutes his swoon with another sigh, and you can tell he's disappointed in himself as he drops his hands to his side. "I wish I wasn't in my head when you said it. Sorry for ruining a good moment."

"You didn't ruin anything, Shu, what are you talking about?" You reach to hold his hand, but hesitate, unsure if he wants to be touched. But he turns his palm over to met yours, and you connect. "I'm glad we're talking about it, and I'm hoping that it's helping you work through it, too. I'd hate to do or say anything to you that you couldn't handle."

"Thank you. That's really sweet of you." You take in how he wraps his fingers around yours and squeezes. "I'm going to calm down for a moment."

You sit together for a moment. His face is a slideshow between thoughts, and you rub circles along his hand with your thumb as he recomposes himself. You trust him.

You send comfort through your fingertips on the changing room floor, and his deep breathing turns to silence as a minute passes by. Then Shu turns to you, and lifts your hand in his. "Do you want to try again?"

"You're up for it?"

He nods, and this time it's with all his energy. "I was really looking forward to it. Can we?"

"Of course, Shu, anything for you." Already you're starting to feel warm. You get up to your feet, and bring Shu with you.

You're not so sure if Shu is aware of this, but even in his weakest moments, he moves elegantly. Not so much that it looks practiced, but he rises nimble like the shadows he channels his sorcery through. His long hair rests on his sleeves, then slips behind his back airily as the leathery wing along his torso flares with the motion.

He doesn't let go of your hand, even as he steps back and rests against the wall.

"You're okay with this?" You ask.

"It felt nice."

Your hand lets go of his, but it doesn't break away from his glassy-clear skin, and instead takes in the shape of his arm. His inner wrist is so soft, but the skin gets pleasantly rougher as you continue upwards into the plush of his forearm, and by the time you reach the peak of his biggest muscles, the plush turns firm.

The other holds him by his hips right under the sash of his robes. You can wrap yourself so easily around his waistline, and the urge to snatch him up is stifling.

But you're on a mission, and Shu's straight nose is dusted with pink, and when your hands both squeeze his body, a short gleam of fire spirals out behind him, and yet, his vivid, royal eyes are what captivate you the most.

You're so lost in his long lashes and the flecks of galaxy that you feel helpless, even with him pinned underneath you. "Shu, can I kiss—"

You get your answer before you even finish the question.

It's like you never paused in the first place. He enters your mouth first, and you match his movements, crossing along his tongue as if it was your lifeblood. It probably is. Shu has a tendency to unlock hunger like you've never known it before.

His arms unconsciously flex at the contact. Aroused, you drive forward and force him further against the wall, and when you hear the rumble of a moan between your connected lips, your fingers clutch harder at his waist.

Your bodies are flush against one another, and as you lean forward, you feel the telltale silkiness of his hair. You don't dare to open your eyes as you fumble around for a tuft to tangle your hands in. Shu pulses in your mouth as you take hold, and parts just enough to aim for your bottom lip as he returns the favor and bites. You hear a lewd, liquidy smack as he hurriedly glosses over the nip, then back to your parted lips. Every time there's even the slightest tension between his hair and your fingers, you notice, he rushes to kiss you harder.

So when he goes in for another round, you move your mouth away. His eyes flutter open in confusion, then shocks into surprise as you drag him in front of you. The mirror reflects his surprise right back at him.

Your head perches on Shu's shoulder. "You up for this, baby? You want to see?"

The heat returns. His reflection is another reminder of how he's totally at your mercy, and all the shame that comes with being so whipped that he already looks this ruined.

But you called him beautiful earlier. Gorgeous.

He kind of likes the shame.

"Yeah," Shu says, breathless. "Y-yeah, I do."

"Good boy," you coo, and that washes a whole new set of feelings over him that he files away for later. He tucks his chin away, embarrassed at the name, but he's still focused on the reflection as your reach to the top of his head and the beginnings of his ponytail.

Shu grew his hair out long, and you comb through the ponytail as it loosens down his back. "Pretty boy," you say. Your voice is tempting so close to his ear, especially as you gather his hair together. "Pretty boy with pretty hair. You take good care of it."

He lets out a hum deep in his throat as you smooth through it, only for it to turn into a startled choke as you grab at the base of his head. He chides himself for not seeing through your plan, but not enough to stifle how the choke turns into a moan as you pull. His neck jerks back. Then your lips make contact with his nape like a vampire to prey, and the moan turns into an even more humiliating yelp. The mirror proudly displays his neediness, but the high pitch is yours alone to keep.

"Didn't mark this side earlier." You mutter as you blow cool air over your latest kiss, and bask in how he shivers storms. "You like that?"

"Mmm, feels good," he says, voice wavering.

"Sounded like it, too. I liked hearing it. Gives me a chance to keep playing around with you."

His common sense tells him to protest, but he's too enthralled by the rough kisses and pulls. You tug on his hair to move him instead of asking him, and the way that you can command him without even using words both impresses and mortifies him.

It's the bites that send him over the edge, though. His nape is your territory. The first hickeys have already darkened on the other side, and when he sees you ravenous over his elongated neck, it's dirty and starved and lovely.

You press a kiss under Shu's ear and he jolts at the pleasure. When you suck, he inhales shakily, and lolls his head to the side. He had no idea that he just put himself in the perfect position. "Just like that, stay still. That's perfect." You weave your fingers through an open seam in his outfit, and when you leave your next mark, it's with your hands over his chest underneath the fabric. You grope his cleavage. "Perfect, perfect, perfect."

"H-how did you even— nngh, ah!"

His nipples were already hard enough, but then you just had to go and twist the damn thing like it wouldn't send him so far down to hell that he'd come back up in heaven.

"Just like that, Shu, baby, you're doing so well!" A flick on the bud here, a pull on his ponytail there, your words barely able to ring out as you frenzy between the kisses and the licks.

Whatever noise hangs in the air, it's downright pornographic, and it's only when Shu sees his open mouth in the mirror that he realizes that's his voice. It wobbles between a cry and a huff. Pink and purple dances around his hazy reflection, but as aroused as he is, he recognizes them as his harmless fire. He didn't even know he did that.

The fire trails behind his head as everything goes hot. He can barely think straight, but the only thing coursing through his mind is that he's never been able to feel delight like this before.

Where you stand behind him, Shu rolls his hips, his neck still held back against your body. You've been doing such a good job of keeping yourself together, but the slow coursing is a death sentence. You welcome it wholeheartedly.

"Mm, Shu...!" That elegance is seriously biting you in the ass right now. Even when he's horny, he's graceful, but you ache for more.

And even when he's submissive, he's strong. You tend to forget that those biceps aren't just for show.

Shu practically plucks you out of the embrace and to his side. His voice is husky but whiny. "Mirror or not, I'm not about to go down on you standing up."

"Let's get you a bed," you negotiate. The sooner you can get all you love out of your system, the better. "Lead the way, gorgeous."

He doesn't waste any time at all. He holds his arm out along the small of your back and rests his hand against where your hips connect with your thighs, and as you shuffle out of the changing room he keeps you close to his, brushing up against you all the while. You'd almost think he was preening.

"Gorgeous," you utter. Hopefully he learns how one day.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

[sleepyfan-blog]

Questions

Author’s note: A third fic for Nadesir! Previous. Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets

Warnings: none! Please ask me to tag if you find something squicky or triggering

Summary: You ask about those strange teal marines. What you get is a peek into Astartes Internal Politics. 

"Vanya... Who were those strange marines? Please tell me why you've been hovering so closely, as of the past three months. It's not as if those shape-shifting marines have been back... Right?" You ask, staring up at your Night Lord, resisting the urge to put your hands on your hips or cross your arms over your chest defensively. Currently you were in the break room of the hospital you'd been working at, with him as your own personal - if very large - shadow. When he wasn't off on a hunt, he'd decided to stick to your side as if you'd disappear if he didn't see you all the time.

"... I still go on hunts. We aren't together all the time." Vanya pointed out, a small pout on his lips that you refused to think of in the moment as endearing. His wings shifted and flexed against his back a little, and you noted the way that his claws extended and sheathed themselves. You silently wonder if he's aware he's doing that, or if it was a nervous tic. You wanted to know why he - and every other marine in town - had been so stressed. No one was able to get them to talk about it,a nd it was beyond frustrating and worrying. 

"Yeah. As if I wouldn't notice the Salamanders or Ultramarines lurking in my bushes when you're gone. None of you did this before those teal marines showed up, so why? Who are they?" You press. You stand up and make your way over to where he's standing - leaning against one corner of the room, eyes on the windows and the door into the room. You gently take one of his large hands in both of yours, running your fingers over his knuckles and tracing the lines of his palms "You've mentioned that we're bonded... That makes us partners, right?"

"I... Yes. We are bonded. I will protect and care for you for as long as I am able." Vanya responded, his free hand reaching up to cup your face, and gently rubbing his thumb across one of your cheeks. "Never doubt your safety while you are with me... Please." His voice broke a little on that last word, and you could see tears in his midnight black eyes.

"Oh... Vanya. Of course I trust you." You murmur, going up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the shoulder - the highest part of him that you could reach without him bending over or you finding something to climb on. "I just want to know what's going on. Why. and I'm not the only one who wants to know why my partner's acting as if we're going to be invaded at any moment. The bright yellow space marines building defensive structures all over town isn't in the least bit subtle. Nor are the steel grey and hazard striped marines trapping the roads in and out of town. What's going on? We want to be able to help! Or at least understand why all of you are preparing for what feels like war."

Vanya flinched a little at the mention of war. He stares into your eyes intently for several moments before letting out a long, deep sigh. "The teal marines are members of the Alpha Legion. They are dangerous, not just because they are Astartes, but because of their... Specific skillset and abilities. They are spies, saboteurs. Social engineers - but unlike the Blueberry Boyscouts who maximize the efficiency of everything around them in order to ensure the optimal happiness of everyone around them - the only ones aware of why and what their goals are is the Alpha Legion themselves... And most likely, their -" He abruptly stopped talking, ducking his head a little. 

You were about to ask more about this Alpha Legion when one of the Space Marine Apothecaries (their equivalent to doctors) came walking in. He was in his primarily white armor, with some green. It was a darker shade of green than salamanders' wore, and the emblem on his pauldron was different. Instead of a drake's head, it was a sword pointed down, with a pair of wings coming out from the hilt of the blade. Two dark green and black painted Astartes followed after him, followed by a chaplain of the same chapter. You didn't recognize the legion emblem, but it was very clear to you that Vanya did.

Vanya scooped you up and tucked you behind him, his wings wrapping around you tightly. You could feel him trembling slightly. He began talking in Gothic - the language that all Space marines spoke (at least in the area you lived in) - very rapidly. He'd been teaching you the language, but you could only pick out a few words "Why." and "You." and "Here." but that was far from the only thing he'd said.

One of the dark green marines began to speak, the bass rumble demanding attention. You caught the words "Legion." and "Reseach." but his accent was very different from Vanya's, making it more difficult for you to begin to understand what he was saying. "Vanya, what's going on?" You ask, gently touching one of his wings to get his attention after the strange marine stopped talking.

Vanya flinches under your touch. "Interrogator Chaplain wants to talk to us. I don't know why he's here. I don't want him here. I've told him that unless I'm being arrested, I refuse to speak to him or his brothers without Captain Urar or two of his lieutenants present."

"... Why would these marines be the ones arresting you? I've never seen them before." You ask. You'd also like to know why he might be getting arrested, but that's a different kettle of fish to fry later. 

"They're Dark Angels." Vanya says, as if that's supposed to mean anything to you. It really does not, but you can tell that this is Not The Time to ask clarifying questions about strange astartes. "Is there any way I can help? I do have my phone." You are barely whispering, but are well aware of just how sensitive Space Marines' hearing is. 

"Please text one of your coworkers who is bonded... To an Ultramarine. I think they have a better relationship to the first than Salamanders do." Vanya responds. He isn't making much sense, but hopefully he will explain once this situation is dealt with.

You nod and text Melody [Four Dark Angels - including someone called an Interrogator Chaplain according to Vanya are in the break room. Can you send Arrios and Vitius in here to help? Vanya's scared :(]

The bass-voiced space marine spoke again, this time you could clearly understand him "Night Lord Raptor, you will set down the human you are currently holding in your wings and come with us. We'd like to talk to you about your encounter with a squad of Alpha Legionnaires."

"... There isn't much to tell, chaplain." Vanya countered, and you could tell he was trying very hard not to sound as worried as he was to these strangers "As I informed Captain Urar months ago, I was headed back to the home I share with my bonded - who I am currently holding and she has not asked me to put her down, so I won't - after hunting some of the... I believe they are called elk? and was carrying the elk I had killed home in order to dress the body and prepare the meat and bones for consumption when I heard her speaking to someone who was using a copy of my own voice. I dropped the deer and sprinted to her side at full speed, calling for assistance as I had noted the tracks of more astartes around our home territory and knew that none of the local astartes would tread so close to our home and not be in easy sight line so as not to provoke a misunderstanding. I found an alpha legionnaire pretending to be myself and drove him out of the house. Two squads of flamer-wielding Salamanders chased them into the woods."

"You did not hunt down the Alpha Legionnaire for invading your home territory and pretending to be yourself to your bonded?" Bass asked, sounding equal parts skeptical and surprised.

Your phone buzzed. You read the text from Melody [Vitius and Arrios are on their way. ETA 1 minute. Any bloodshed?]

That didn't help your nerves at all. Thanks Melody! You think sarcastically as you text her back [None yet. Four against one aren't good odds, even if Vanya can fly. Though he's currently wrapped me up in his wings.]

"I was focused on making sure that my bonded felt safe in our home and securing the internal perimeter. I have been working alongside the other tracker-trained astartes who live here to try and find the Snakes hiding in the woods, but, as you should well know, trying to find a hiding alpha legionnaire is about as easy as catching smoke in high winds when they don't want to be found. I do not know if anyone else has had run-ins with these particular shapeshifters, you'd need to request information from the acting chapter master." Vanya answered, his wings tightening a little further around your body, though his shaking had slowed down a little.

"... And the acting chapter master is...? Do you recognize him as your chapter master, and all that entails, Night Lord?" Bass-y Astartes asked. 

Vanya's answer came after a long pause "The acting chapter master of this town is Captain Urar... And if you insist on knowing the answer to the second question..."

"I do." Bass pressed.

"... I do recognize captain Urar as my chapter master, while l live in this area. In this time." Vanya responded, voice quiet but steady. 

"Interrogator Chaplain Sariel, is there a particular reason why you and your... Brothers have deigned to grace this hospital with your presence? None of you are injured." The familiar and welcome voice of Apothecary Arrios called out, sounding equal parts annoyed and exasperated. "And I know for a fact that there aren't any injured Dark Angels being tended to in this hospital."

"We have been tracking the movements of several different alpha legionnaire squads in this region. When I noted that one of the more influential squads came here I brought my brothers to investigate why they came here." Bassy responded with a small huff in his voice.

"Well if you figure that out, please do tell the rest of us. As far as any of us can figure, the damned snakes decided to try and steal one of our bonded humans for the entertainment value. If you have any more questions, please direct them to captain Urar or Lieutenant Dexrial, who are our acting Chapter master and first captain respectively. Please stop badgering random members of our rag-tag community without warning, it's stressful for everyone involved." Vitius interjected, also sounding annoyed and mildly bored. 

"... Fine, although I will remind you of just how dangerous allowing traitors in your midst is. Good day, brother apothecaries." Bass growled. 

You could hear the sounds of several astartes leaving the room. Vanya did not put you down.

"How are you holding up?" Arrios asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"I am unharmed. Your arrival was quite timely." Vanya murmured. You could hear the gratitude in his voice. 

"Good! Throne, this is getting more annoying by the week. First hydras trying to steal our dear humans away, now a throne-cursed Dark Angel Interrogator Chaplain and his goon squad here. Fuck! I was hoping to avoid this kind of nonsense when my human decided to move to a town of this size. See you around." Arrios called out, before you could hear another set of astartes sized footsteps leaving.

"You sure you're alright?" Vitius asked after several moments had passed.

"Yes, I'm fine. A little off-balance from one of them showing up unexpectedly, but nothing I cannot handle." Vanya responded. "... Tell my bonded's boss that she's coming home early with me. I... I need to keep her close. Keep her safe in our nest. She really doesn't like it when I growl at her patients."

Vitius answered "Of course. Captain Urar's likely going to want to talk to you, when you're ready to handle that."

"I... I know. It's... I will." Vanya responded, his wings curling a little tighter around you.

You gently rub his wings, hoping that the touch is grounding for him. You'd like to protest that you'd like to finish the rest of the work day... But Vanya is still shaking, and he sounds so vulnerable. If extra cuddles is what he needs to calm down, extra cuddles are something you're happy to offer him.

"Thank you, Cousin." Vitius murmured. "Take care."

"I will." With that Vanya, still holding you, walked out of the hospital. You wiggled a little, but all that provoked was a small, anxious whine from your Night Lord, so you stayed still until he eventually put you down, wings unfurling from around your body.

You weren't surprised to find that he'd taken you home. You smile gently up at him and ask "Hug?"

"Hug." He agrees, once again picking you up as his strong arms wrap around you. He buried his face in your shoulder, breathing in deeply as you ran your fingers through his long black hair.

[internetgiraffekid1673]

Whattup people who read my Batman posts! Brainrot's still rotting, I just had junk to do, so I didn't draw for a while! Anyhoodle, time for another character, Duke Thomas, a.k.a The Signal (and also Robin depending on how you're counting it!)

You know the drill by now, initial trace with my lazy backdrop! I liked drawing Duke, but BOY HOWDY HEY, he was hard. Like, I'm just gonna come out and say it, I am BAD at drawing armor and buildings and machines and anything non-organic. Which means Signal is probably one of the hardest costumes to get right. This was just the trace, so it wasn't too bad, but trying to understand how his costume worked was quite the game for this whole process. I will say, he's got one of my favorite color schemes out of any of the Batfamily. The light dark contrast works really well in a way that is only seen elsewhere on the Robin cape, and the fact that this is actually the Signal's whole costume makes it feel more cohesive and effective than that. And, you know, it's also really cool thematically, considering light is kinda Duke's whole thing.

Freehanded drawing with referenced trace! This was a ROUGH time. I had to redraw Duke three separate times before I got a result I was satisfied with.

So, remember how I said that I struggled to understand how his costume actually works? Yeah, that's because I have a decent grasp how armor is actually supposed to work, and this ain't it fellas. Like, not knocking the design, it looks cool and is certainly easier to draw once you get the hang of it, but it makes less intuitive sense to me. What is happening on his neck? Is that like pure metal molded to his skin or something? That's not how physics work. Why are his pauldrons not actually covering his shoulders, and also where and how exactly are the attached to anything? It was confusing, but definitely a good exercise for me.

Again, the stuff they did was actually pretty smart, since it's comic books and they don't have to move realistically, and this makes it easier to pose his head, chest, and shoulders. It was just difficult for me to wrap my head around. Ignoring all the physics defying stuff,

Signal probably has one of the smartest/most practical costumes of the Batfam too. For one, he actually has a helmet and protects his head. Two, he has armored all of his vital organs like his lungs and heart and stuff. Three, he doesn't have a cape, which means he can't be grabbed or snagged as easily, and doesn't have to fight working around that. This is sad for me though, because I love drawing capes : (

Pose for characterization. I'mma be straight with ya'll, I don't know much about Duke. Like, I've read all of the We Are Robin/Robin Wars comics, but that doesn't actually give me much of a handle on Duke as a person, or how he behaves because it has to split the focus between so many protagonists, and also because there's a bunch of other stuff happening, so Duke doesn't get as much focus as you'd suspect. I haven't read anything else where he appears (except for Wayne Family Adventures, but I don't think that counts).

The general vibe I got from We Are Robin and from other comic readers is that Duke is probably the most approachable member of the Batfamily. He wasn't raised as an assassin from birth, he hasn't been Robin since he was like 9, he didn't die and come back to life---his life experience, while far from normal, is still much closer to the average human being, so he can relate and react better. (The only other member who really gets close is Steph, but she's been around longer and has had time to get into more whacky life or death scenarios, so she's a bit nuttier. Duke'll get there in time, I'm sure).

I tried to convey this approachability by giving him an open expression and more relaxed body language, even though he is a pretty mistrusting and high strung person. Comes with the territory of being a vigilante I guess.

As always, the text for his hero name is traced off a comics cover. To indicate the duality of Duke being both a pretty chill kid and also absolutely insane, I felt the need to put his civilian name in two fonts. I also tried to make his civvies call back to his We Are Robin uniform without being an exact one to one. I'm positive that Duke'll take any excuse to wear Robin colors, even after the ban was lifted, just because it pisses off the cops.

Can you guys guess who comes next based off the order so far? (You won't, it only makes sense to me).

Other Batfamily Members:

Nightwing Edition

Red Hood Edition

Robin (Carrie Kelley) Edition

Red Robin Edition

Spoiler Edition

Robin (Damian Wayne) Edition

[kalevalakryze]

Saia

"Why do you paint your armor?" Shin questioned one day, knee propped up against the ledge of the table, artificial light catching the dull silver across their shins.

Sabine glanced up from her pauldron, lifting the brush up just in time to avoid dripping orange all over the drying blue, instead sending a thick blob of paint to drip onto the unprotected table, seeping between once pristine white cracks.

"Mandalorians don't wear their hearts on their sleeve, and many of us choose to cover our faces, so we paint ourselves on our ancestral armor to show the kind of people we are."

"Explain," Their legs lowered from the table, shoulders slouching as they leaned forward, brows furrowing cutely as they focused their entire attention on the artist.

"Well, okay, so our colors aren't random. Each one has some meaning as a whole, one that will be noticed by all Mandalorians, regardless of their standing with a particular group. Grey, that's the color of mourning; You'll be hard pressed to meet any of my people without it, anymore..." The smile slipped from her lips as she brushed her fingers across the plate on her chest.

"Orange is a lust for life, purple is for luck, red..." Her fingers brushed against the dark paint, grimacing at the thought of the paint she though she would never have to spread across her beskar. "Red is the loss a parent; honoring them."

"Blue is the color of reliability, teal is for those that are healing, white is cin vhetin; starting again, gold is the color of vengance, so on and so forth." Picking up a dry brush, Sabine worked away at smoothing and bleeding certain pieces together against the still wet paint on her pauldron.

"It helps us essentially judge the book by it's cover, I guess; A Mandalorian has to be able to really know who they are when they paint their armor, because that determines, or at least, used to, determine if someone was friend or foe."

"Are Mandalorians the only ones who can paint armor?"

"What? No, we don't have exclusive rights to the rainbow," Sabine shook her head. "We had to share with the Zhell," Nose crinkling at her own joke, Sabine lifted her head away from her piece. "Why, you thinking about getting out of the shiny phase?"

Cheeks flushing, Shin's shoulders shrugged as their arms moved to rest on the table, hand reaching across their chest to pull on the neat beaded braid.

"It'd be alright if you were, you know; I always figured you'd look good in blue,"

They snorted, leveling Sabine with a crinkled stare. "You said blue was for Reliability, even after everything, you still believe blue is right?"

"I've never been wrong about what color I used... sometimes the picture around it changes, it's not that the color was bad, or didn't fit the piece, it just needed time to see for itself that it belonged."

Eyebrows furrowing in speculation, their head shook. "Explain it to me like I have never seen color a day in my life,"

"You know, I heard canines may have yellow and blue on the spectrum for their vision," A dorky smile cracked Sabine's face and she had to duck to avoid a flying wet paintbrush that was flung her way.

"The point is, Kurs'kaded, you figured it out... I can't lie and say I didn't doubt it, that I was sure you would stay true to it in the end, because really, i was certain you would have let him kill us..."

Shin's expression dropped at the reminder of Peridea, the reminder of why they were aboard the Jedi's T-6, and not with their Master.

"But you did it, you kept your word... you're just,,, blue."

Shin's lips twisted in a mix of thought and doubt.

"But here, just... Gimme one piece, and I'll think on it for a few days; I'll put on it what I really think of you,"

With reluctance, Shin slid the vambrace from their right wrist, placing it on the table with a heavy thunk. "And here, so you aren't running around without armor," The artist removed her own gauntlet, motioning for them to extend their wrist.

The grey and gold beskar fell shorter than the steel alloy vambrace, stopping at only halfway up her arm instead of closer to her elbow. Shifting uncomfortably, they nodded in false understanding, got up, and promplty exited the room without another word. "Gotta stop giving women emotional talks; they keep walking out on me," The Mandalorian grumbled to herself, picking their pauldron off of the table and turning it in her hands.

▬▬ι═══════>

"Hey, Shin, wait up!" Sabine ducked out of the ghost and into the bustling hangar, grateful to catch Shin and Ahsoka on their way out of the T-6. "I finished your armor!" The adrenaline from the dogfight still rushing through her veins.

Shin blinked once at Sabine, raising their left arm to check the beskar gauntlet on their wrist, seemingly for the first time. "It took you a while,"

"Told you I had to think about it more, now come on," Sabine grabbed a hold of the Apprentice's arm, just above her gauntlet, guiding Shin back through the hangar to the ghost. Hera met their eyes and offered a knowing smile and shake of her head.

"Please don't put anymore paint on my floors!" The General called to their retreating forms, rolling her eyes at the promises from the Mandalorian bouncing back to her. "Kids,"

"Hey, she takes after you more than you'd think," Ahsoka defended with a snarky smile spreading on her face.

"Ta-da!" Sabine guided Shin inside her old room, still thick with the lingering smell of dried paint, hair dye, and the many different perfumes and colognes she'd sprayed over the years. The rebel picked up a decorated piece from the bunk, though it seemed unrecognizable to the blonde now.

The entire piece was painted a dark grey, gold outlining every scratch and dent, with dark blue paint swirling from every notch, interconnecting into a personal galaxy. White and red speckled the purples and blues in their background of mourning, creating a constellation of 'stars' that formed the image of a large wolf in the red, and a smaller wolf in the white.

"It took me a while to figure it out, but I wouldn't take back a single drop," Reaching back again, Sabine pulled the late retrieved hand plate from her pillow. Teal, blue, green, and white clashed together in the form of a crashing wave, a circle of unpainted middle sitting nestled in the darkest of blue, a Moon to always take with them.

They were sad to give up Sabine's gauntlet after weeks of learning how to use beskar to their advantage, and at first, the colors had been an overwhelming distraction. Eventually though, Shin began to embrace the colors they showed to the world, and Sabine was more than glad to help Shin see past what they may have thought of themselves before, and maybe it was a little bit to keep the light from being reflected into her eye when the sun caught her in the middle of staring at them.

[obislittleone]

What Once Was Mine

Chapter 11

Summary: Locked away in a house her entire life, she always dreamed of exploring the nearby kingdom for just a day, believing it could make the rest of her days in solitude bearable. What she was unaware of, was the real reason she’d been hidden away for so long. Changes comes swift like a flying dagger when a thieving bounty hunter seeks solace in the old home.

Din Djarin Royalty!AU / Tangled!AU

Pairing: Din Djarin x Princess Kryze!Reader

A/n: okay so there’s one more part after this one and then I’ll just probably start posting a series that’s like half finished but its in my drafts… and alsos the indy fic

Warnings: oh boy kinda a lot… mentions of death, having beatings take place, several scenes with blood… there’s a mention of beheading… sadness and depression idk. Uncomfortable situations fr… imprisonment and degradation again bc why not

Bo Katan sat on the stool across from you, watching with both anxiety and pride as you were being fitted with a traditional suit of Mandalorian beskar armor.

“You wear it well,” she commented, seeing the look on your face as you held the helmet in your hands. It matched the chest plate and the pauldrons in which were being placed upon each shoulder. They both carried the signet of the blue owl, and the etchings looked as though they had been carved ages ago. “I know you won’t disgrace it the way I have.”

You turned to her with sad eyes. She regrets the day she lost to Gideon, all but throwing the fight and losing everything she had in only a moment. She yielded, and that’s what everyone knew, but little did they know the cause as to why. She was a strong fighter, she would not have lost it had it not been for a certain someone.

“You did the best you could have done,” you assumed, trying to give an encouraging smile, though your nerves made the corner of your lip twitch in an awkward way.

“No, I didn’t. I gave in,” she paused, heaving a sigh and shaking off the wave of memories. “Gideon challenged me when I was only sixteen. I felt I was unready to be queen, so I faltered and let him win.”

“What?”

The surprise in your tone matched the wide eyed stare you wore on your face, the gears in your head working overtime to try and process why she might have done such a thing.

“There were things expected of me, and I wasn’t ready to commit to them… I once had a love like yours, but being queen meant I would be forced to give it up.” Her brows furrowed as she spoke of the past, an inkling in her mind wanted her to share it with you, but she was unsure if she was a good idea. You already had enough pressure on your shoulders.

“Bo,” you wanted her to feel your sympathy, to know that with your love’s life on the line, you could partially understand her feelings.

“After I lost the fight, that love was taken from me anyway. The King made fast enemies in the land, and drafted an entire army to rid him of all the people that stood in the way of his rule. The man I intended to marry was killed and I was powerless to stop it.”

“I’m sorry…” you trailed off, remaining silent for a few moments until you caught sight of yourself in the reflection of another chest plate hanging on the wall. You looked mighty and strong. “Gideon will be defeated, I promise. I will finish what you started.”

“I shall hope with everything in me that your strength will not falter in battle. I know you will do right by your hunter,” she nodded, taking the helmet from your hands and placing it atop your head. The metal felt warm around you, but the T shaped opening in the front gave you a sense of exact focus. As long as your eyes remained on Gideon, you would be set in your mission to kill him.

You’d never killed anyone before, and growing up you swore you never would, knowing the brutality of your powers was exactly why you were hidden away… you always said that violence was not your way, but this man had cheated you, lied to you and publicly humiliated you on more than one front. If all of that was not bad enough, the way he’d treated Din topped it all. The blood that had stained the edges of your beautiful green sleeves the night prior, it was thick and dark. Just like it had been when he crossed paths with death before. Your kidnapper who had tried to kill him was child’s play compared to the enemy you now faced. He held the power of the kingdom in his hands, and you needed to physically destroy him in order to stop him.

Din’s sentencing to death was paused temporarily, for the duel of rulers would take priority over the hanging of a single criminal. You only hoped he was alright, being stuck in a cage where he didn’t belong. He was like a bird with clipped wings, unable to fly or flourish or do anything in the confines of his small cell.

It was only a matter of time before you set him free, and that was what you kept your mind on as you prepared to meet your opponent.

-

You’d been given a sword and shield to battle with, though they were heavy and you didn’t really need them. You’d gone over the rules with Bo Katan several times, and every time there had not been a rule against using ones magical powers… none else ever living in Mandalore seemingly possessed them.

You’d been standing in a room, overhearing the crowd shouting in the arena outside. The horseback ride on the way to said location was short, barely outside of the castle walls, but it gave you too much time to think about how things might possibly go wrong. You were stronger than him by far, and your motivation to fight was growing even now, but a small yet powerful voice in your head told you it was going to end poorly. You could lose your footing or get distracted. If you let your guard down even once, it would be over.

The door opening stopped your intrusive thoughts from rampaging, but the face on the other side made your skin crawl.

“What are you doing here?”

King Gideon chuckled darkly before entering the room. He was alone, but that didn’t make him any less of a threat at the moment. You couldn’t touch a hair on his head before the canon sounded, but anything he said or did now could easily take your mindset and make it even worse.

“If you’d care to take a quick stroll, I think there’s something you should see,” he spoke heavy, a smirk rising to his cheeks. He held his hand out towards the doorway, and you knew that he wouldn’t leave until you followed along with his charade, so you passed him and walked through the door. You noticed that with all your armor and thick sole boots, you were almost as large in frame as he was. It made you feel stronger in some way.

“Make it quick,” you turned to him, not allowing a hint of emotion to show through your voice. You wouldn’t let him have anything on you, not one show of anger or even a clenched fist to show he’d caused it.

His steps were mockingly slow from there, but it didn’t take long before he reached a staircase. He gestured for you to go first, and you did, climbing up what you counted to be three flights before there was another door. You looked back to the King, and he nodded, so you entered. You appeared to be on the top level of the arena, overlooking the kingdom. Three stories up, and you wondered if he’d perhaps dragged you up here to push you off. He was still King, and if he had, he’d be the ruler nonetheless, even if it was a cowardly move, he could still do it.

“If you’d care to sight see with me, I believe you’ll find a particular scene down there to your interest.”

You shifted your eyes over the ledge, and froze to your place.

Your small green child was held in a cage meant for a bird, his coos and cries for help being ignored by the palace guards keeping watch. On the ground beside him was Din, curling in on himself as three men beat him to a pulp. They kicked and yelled at him, watching in fake pity as he tried his best to fight back. He was in no condition to fight in the first place, nor was he strong enough after not being fed for two days.

“Stop them,” you turned to Gideon, your fiery gaze burning through his exterior for a moment, as he almost looked afraid. You still carried the sword made of Mandalorian iron, an impenetrable metal that could cut him down where he stood. He took a step back and immediately felt the power shift. This could still work to his advantage. “Stop them, now!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’ve given my last orders as King before the duel, and as per tradition, my rule will be ceased until it is over,” he raised his hands, as if this was not his plan all along, to lure you here and allow you to see with your own eyes the man you loved being beaten to death. “I do hope for your sake he lives until the battle, for then you have a chance to save him.”

You weren’t going to let this happen. Everything you did was to protect the ones you love, and now they were being held against their will, one of them being tortured on your behalf, simply because the King couldn’t touch you, yet.

At this very point you didn’t care about the rules, only that an end was put to this man. A man who so viscously would steal from you everything you had for the reason of revenge. You drew your sword from the sheath at your hip, swinging it over your head and straight at him. But this was what he wanted, and he’d been prepared. He ignited the Dark Saber and blocked your strike, counter attacking and hitting your vambrace, which burned like fire. You retreated for only a second before again throwing the blade towards his body, which was deflected for a second time by his glowing weapon. It turned the metal of the sword red with heat, and not even a moment later, the sword was hit away from your hands by another rough strike.

Gideon stared you down, the saber inches away from your neck. You could feel the warmth emanating from where it was held, and tried your best to stay still. Even a flinch could end your life.

“Save it for the arena,” he said smugly before disengaging his weapon and handing yours back to you. You took it quickly, and turned to leave. If there was still time, you could tell Bo about the guards behind the building. She was a skilled fighter, perhaps she could stop them from killing Din until the fight was over.

As soon as you reached the bottom of the stairs, you’d been pulled by the arm.

“Where were you? It’s less than two minutes until the canon is lit,” Mayfeld seemed stressed, like he’d been looking for you for ages. Truth be told, you weren’t supposed to leave the room they put you in until it was time, so already you’d gotten them on the tips of their toes.

“Mayfeld, you have to listen to me,” you tried to make him stop walking, to slow down at least so the words could come out while he was paying attention.

“It’ll have to wait until after the fight. You’re supposed to be out there already,” he kept on, practically dragging you with him until you reached a chain drawn entrance, the wooden slab being lowered to the ground.

“No, you don’t understand he’s-“

“You’re going to be fine, just remember what Bo said.”

And with that, you were shoved into the arena. You turned towards the center of it, hearing the people of the land cheering. You stood in fear of the events around you, seeing as though you had been thrust into the middle with no where to go. There was only one way out, and that was the death of Gideon, the faux King of Mandalore.

You looked to the other side of the arena, and sure enough… the second wooden slab was lowered until it hit the dirt, and behind it stood your opponent. His stance was wide, and it angered you to see how arrogantly he strolled in. His weapon was activated, and he dragged it next to him in the dirt, creating small fits of dust to fly in the air behind his steps.

He stopped about ten feet away from you, pointing to the top of the arena where you both were just standing only minutes ago. The canon had been raised, and the fuse had been lit, the flame getting closer and closer until the loud boom was heard, echoing through the sky.

You held your weapon steady, making sure your helmet was secure before charging him. You struck first, making contact with his saber, while he quickly rebuttals against you. You were fired up, and so was he. The crowd was only background noise as this feud ending battle commenced.

-

Bo had been made aware of the hunter’s disappearance from his cell. She snuck in that morning to try and get him into a safer location until after the fight, but found that he’d been removed, the cell at the end of the block being completely empty when she went in. She hadn’t however found him in time to prevent the horrendous beatings he’d received. At the sound of the canon, she left her place on the ground level of the arena, going outside to inspect the guards that had been rotating to a discreet location.

When she saw the hunter on the ground, covered in his own blood, she leapt into action immediately. She pulled the knives from her boots and threw them straight forward, killing out the only guards who had been armed. They dropped to the ground before her as the other three stopped their attack on Din to focus on her. She was a threat by all means, and they remember the fight she put up at her young age of sixteen. Now, it was likely she could kill a man with her bare hands.

“Who’s first?” She quipped, stepping in front of Din and tilting her head to the one in the center. He looked as if he was waiting to get a piece of her, and was all too confident he would be able to. “You.”

Just as anticipated, he ran towards her, arms flailing about and voice ringing out a battle cry. He was all bark, unfortunately, as she caught him before he made contact, gripping under his shoulder and twisting just right until his shoulder was out of socket. She grabbed his neck and bashed his head over her knee and he went down to the ground, writhing in pain and out of his clear consciousness as the next man charged after her. She kicked out in front of her this time, letting his weight carry him backwards, all she had to do then was land a hard sock on his jaw and he collapsed over top of the last one. The man left standing was not in any hurry to rush her, but he’d been waiting, watching strategically until the others were out of the way. He would wait for her to make the first move, he was the smart one.

She had come to the conclusion he would wait for her, so she turned to Din, seeing that he’d started to pick himself up, and gave him an order. “Take the child, and go.”

He was barely able to hold himself at a seating position, but he gave a nod, beginning to drag himself towards the bird cage sat in the corner atop a barrel.

Bo faced the man head on, taking one step, two, three, and then one more. She struck him hard in the shoulder, and he stumbled back, but didn’t fall. He came back at her with force, blocking her attempt at a kick and using her leg as momentum to send her into the wall. Her back hit the concrete hard, and she nearly lost the air from her lungs, but she wasn’t finished. He came closer, and she feigned lack of awareness long enough to get him right in front of her. From there she let the knee jerk upwards, kicking him between the legs and hearing him groan. He didn’t back off like she’d hoped, and grabbed her fists, holding her to the wall. He used his own knee as a way to mock her, jabbing into her stomach several times until she felt sick. She tried to bend over in hopes it would soothe the pain, but he grabbed her throat, pushing her against the wall once more and looking her straight in the eye.

“You’re weak now, just like you were then.”

And suddenly, the pressure on her throat was gone. The man in front of her stood still, his features becoming like ice, and then he fell to the ground. Bo took in a deep breath, leaning over like she’d intended to earlier. She saw the arrow that had pierced the back of the man before her, and looked up to see Mayfeld rushing to her aid while holding a cross bow. She had never been so grateful to see him.

“Are you alright?” He gave her a hand and helped her to stand straight, looking her over for any additional injuries.

“I’m fine,” she told him, squeezing his hand lightly to assure him what she said was true. “How’s the fight?”

“Bad… she’s losing.”

The last thing Mayfeld saw before coming to find Bo was you getting knocked down, unable to get up for the way Gideon stepped on your chest plate.

Bo looked to the end of the alley, seeing Din holding the child and barely beginning to hobble away. He used the wall to lean against, but she knew they could help him easier. She knew what they needed to do in order for the fight to be turned around.

“She needs to see him,” she muttered, taking steps towards the man as he barely turned the corner. “Hunter..”

He turned as quickly as he could, careful not to drop the kid in the process of doing so.

“Come with me,” she took the child from his hands, handing him off to Mayfeld who followed her over. “Can you walk?”

He tried to push himself away from the wall and take a step, but he nearly fell to his knees. His grunts of pain when Bo caught him meant he was injured to the point of being bed ridden. She hauled him back up, tossing his arm over her shoulder, and began to strong arm him towards the gate of the arena. Hoping that if she could just get him into your view, it would change the ending of this battle.

He groaned with every step they took, but didn’t complain, and kept on towards the entrance, hearing the loud echoes of cheers whilst the competitors fought to the death. He looked down the tunnel, and saw something he hoped he’d never see.

You were on the ground, back against the dirt, while Gideon knelt over top of you. His saber was so close to your face, you felt as if you might catch on fire. Your sword was the only thing standing in the way of your fast approaching death, and you knew you had nothing left in you. You would die at the hands of an evil man, one who may have killed the ones you love, one who abuses his power, and the people he’s supposed to care for.

You looked into his eyes, your scared expression was evident, and he reveled in it. To see the fear in your eyes before he killed you, it felt too good to be true. Everything he’d said and done before this fight was the reason it was going the way it had. You couldn’t focus your power enough to use it, and every time you tried, it only backfired on a worse attack towards you.

“You were my biggest foe, princess, a worthy opponent. I will remember you during the rest of my rule,” he leaned in closer, forcing his blade so close it singed the hair that had been sticking out of it’s binds. You’d lost your helmet about thirty seconds into the battle, and nothing was stopping him from running you through to the ground.

You closed your eyes, ready to except your fate…

“Mesh’la,” the whisper was not even heard aloud, but in your mind. Whatever power you still possessed in you was willing you to hear his words, spoken under his breath and practically into the void.

You opened your eyes, turning your head to catch the sight. The tunnel was opened, and hanging onto Bo Katan was your hunter, the one this was all about. He looked bruised and bloody, but he was here, and he was alive. Standing behind him was Mayfeld, who cautiously held onto your small green child, the one you’d been in companionship with for so long, now. They were both here, and you weren’t going to let them watch you get killed, not at the hands of this man.

Din wasn’t sure how, but he knew you had heard him.

You gathered all the strength in your body and pulled your legs in, kicking his body off of you and back several feet. He was quickly steadied again, as were you, but your stare was no longer afraid, it was determined. This was the gaze he’d been so frightened of before.

You lunged for him, swinging over your head and across your body, hitting his saber multiple times before he tripped and fell back on the ground. You used your power to pull the Dark Saber from his hands and into your own. He barely made it to his knees before you were stood over him, both blades crossed by his throat, waiting to behead him.

He looked up to you, speechless as to how you were able to accomplish this feat. He had always been arrogant, but pride comes before a fall, and his knees could attest to that.

“Last words?”

He swallowed in a shaky manner. Let it not be said that he would die with words unspoken… he’d rather not die at all.

“Allow me to make a deal on my surrender,” he pleaded, begging for the same chance he’d given Bo Katan all those years ago. He may have spared her life, but you weren’t thinking of being so kind in return. Of all the things he’d done, he deserved to die on this field.

You stood still for a moment, and pondered what your terms of a deal may be.

“I offer you two more days, of which you will be beaten until you cannot stand, and starved from any sustenance you may require… sundown on the second day you will be executed,” you stopped for a moment to see the look on his face become even more grim. The man was a shell of himself, and of that you were proud. “Death by hangman’s noose.”

It was comical, really. Two more days to live out the torture he’d put Din through, only to die anyways, in the same way he’d meant for Din to die. He was not going to be permitted to live, because even behind closed bars, he was dangerous… you also knew he would never accept the deal.

“If you will only mock me, do away with me, now.”

The famous last words of King Gideon the ruthless.

The blades crossed each other and slid with ease, ridding the world of the man who ruled this land with tyranny. You’d never killed anyone in your life, but this didn’t feel wrong, it felt empowering. You’d slain the enemy, just as the knights in your stories would slay dragons and viscous beasts that scoured the land.

You heard the crowd erupt once more, and a loud announcement, but you paid no mind to it. You began to run, your slight limp carrying you to the tunnel with which your hunter was waiting. He fell into your arms as Bo let go of his form, and though your strength was again wavering, you held him close as if he were the most important thing in the world. You were too worn to heal him for now, and you might be for a day or two, but you could spend that time taking care of him in other ways, simply being by his side and making sure he was there with you.

-

The light peering in through the window of the Queen’s suite was only bright enough to make a small beam that reflected onto the ground. It was early morning, but the sun rose earlier here than it did in other parts of the kingdom. The castle always saw the first light.

Din shifted uncomfortably in bed, his shoulders still being the sorest part of him. He was rather broad, like the west mountains that separated Mandalore from the hillside people of Nog. He was broad and strong, but he felt he was anything else at the moment. He tried to sit up, but a pain shot through him and he groaned.

That’s when he saw you, rushing to his aid from a lounge seat that you’d undoubtedly been sleeping on through the night. You gently grabbed his upper arm, trying to get him to lay back down.

“Easy, big guy,” you knew he was probably confused as to where he was, since he’d practically passed out on the horse ride back to the castle, and required major help in getting to your chambers. Everyone insisted he go back to his own, that others could care for him easily there, but you weren’t about to let him out of your sight as long as you could help it. You were a good care taker, yet only one could ever attest to that, and he didn’t talk. “You shouldn’t be up.”

“Did you sleep on the chair?” He responded almost immediately, though it was not what you were thinking he’d say. It was very much like him to be falling apart and in need of constant care, yet being too concerned for your own being to obey your directions. He sat straight up, looking to you for an answer.

“Yes, I wanted to be close to you.”

He furrowed his brow and reached out for you. It hurt the muscles in his body to do so, but he grabbed your hand anyways.

“Could have slept with me, Mesh’la,” he whispered just loud enough to hear, bringing your hand to his mouth for a kiss. You smiled at the gesture but shook your head.

“The physician told me you were not to be disturbed,” you sat down next to him, allowing yourself to disturb him only a little for the sake of your comfort, and the need to feel him beside you. “Everything that happened yesterday, and the day before… it’s almost impossible that you were able to make it out alive.”

“If your plan was to get rid of me, you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

Your soft chuckle was music to his ears, as he’d not heard it in days, and thinking about it was one of the only things keeping him on his feet whilst all he wanted to do was fall. You gripped his hand that was holding yours, squeezing it once before letting go and beginning to get up.

“You should eat something,” you turned to him while pulling on a dressing robe, much thicker than the one you were used to. It would keep you warm until the sun had fully risen, as parts of the castle were freezing in the early morning. “I’ll be back.”

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, just as you had done a few nights prior. That night had been so beautiful, it only made sense that Gideon would have ruined it… but now he was gone for good, and no one would ever be disgraced by him again. You looked back to Din and saw the fave h was giving you. “Please.”

You were a victim of those brown eyes, you swore they’d be the death of you… and what a wonderful way to go. There was no way you’d ever deny him, not when he sat there on your bed, looking like the human personification of softness. You shrugged off your robe, laying it back over the chair it had been in earlier, and crossed the room to where he was sat. You threw up the sheets and blankets and crawled in beside him, laying down on the pillow and looking up at him.

He ran his fingers over the side of your face, tracing the outline of your cheek and jaw, finally reaching down to your neck. There was a burn scar forming there, not even an inch wide but evident enough to him.

“Pretty girl,” he muttered, thinking out loud. The words hit your ears and made you smile, which in turn spread a grin across his own face. He hadn’t kissed you since your shared dance on the cobblestones of the castle garden, and he felt he needed to. Leaning down the way he did should have hurt him tremendously, but something about the way your lips met his made all the pain subside. It was quick and gentle, but it sustained him.

You wished for more, but weren’t about to push your bounds, knowing he was definitely still in pain that he would never admit to.

He laid beside you and opened his arms for you to scoot in. It was very improper, for him to hold you this way and under the blankets of your own bed, but it was only you and him, and the door blocking you both from the outside world was not to be crossed by any means. Bo was taking care of everything in the Kingdom for now, as you’d asked her to do so until Din was on his feet. You were the Queen, now… though there was no official coronation, you were acting ruler of Mandalore. It would be a large responsibility, but you felt you were up to the task. Din knew this as well, for he saw the kindness of your heart and the goodness of your mind. All those years of innocence really shaped your outlook on the world, and you still beheld it with beauty. He only hoped that all the horrible things you’d been through wouldn’t give you a bitterness that may oppose your gentle spirit.

The sun kept rising, and the day began… but you and your hunter were tucked away from the busying kingdom, finding rest and comfort in each other after a trial of great proportions.

-

Tags: @i-ameri-cant@littlemisspascal@fanfics-toread@icanbeyourjedi@castleallherown@mysticalgalaxysalad @princess-prettyy @67impalagirl13@agingerindenial@childrenofthewatch@insomniac-nerd-posts-things@marjoherbo@juletheghoul-main@tiredbuthappy@themand0lorian@janebby@goldielocks2004@yuiopiklmn ​ @oh-no-who-am-i ​ @appleejuice ​ @luxmundee @belovedadam @seninjakitey ​@harriedandharassed @notsosecretspy

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

This one goes out to @mlgssy

I'm also tagging @makowrites and @helix-enterprises117 because y'all are enabling this silly AU.

=-=-=-=

“You’re looking a little worse for wear, Gunny.” Her words were calm. Casual. Almost dispassionate.

“And you’re looking like you’ve got your nose some place it doesn’t belong, Staff Sergeant,” he bit back. She could tell that the bark in his voice was forced… he was in some real pain, and doing his best not to show it. “Go see to your squad, and don’t bother me,” he added gruffly.

Shaddock grinned. “Why, sticking my nose into other people’s business is my specialty. You ought to know that by now.” When he failed to provide some snarky comeback, a frown crossed her lips. He must have been hurting even worse than she had realized. She stepped forward, dropping a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, you’re bleeding. Let me take a look at it.”

He flinched away from her touch. “I’m fine,” he growled. “I need to check on my people, so unless you plan to carry me around on your shoulders, get out of my way.” He shot her a reproachful look over his shoulder and tried to stand from his place perched on a log beside the fire, but he paused and his face contorted in pain as he rose partway to his feet.

The smile disappeared from Kelly’s face as she applied enough pressure to hold him in place. “Stay here,” she growled, forcefully enough to even get through his thick head. He glared up at her, his green eyes sparkling distractingly in the firelight. She filed that thought away in the quickly growing Don’t Ever Think About This Again corner of her brain and took a step back to point at his chest. “Armor, shirt, off now,” she ordered with an authority that she didn’t hold, even in the odd rank structure of The Spirit of Fire’s surviving crew stranded outside of the Milky Way.

Ellsworth was thinking just the same thing, she could see it in the way he scowled and his eyes crinkled haughtily at the corners. So she pressed the slight advantage she had earned by surprising him. “Either you take them off or I do, Gunny,” she sighed, effecting an air of nonchalance that she would never admit to not feeling. She flashed him a grin and waggled her eyebrows as she tacked on, “Imagine what your squad would say if they caught me pulling your clothes off in the woods late at night. The LT would have us knocked down for sure.”

Her teasing insistence finally seemed to wear him down. He continued to glare at her as he slowly stripped his gloves and dropped them at his feet, revealing large and calloused hands. Next, he reached up to detach his pauldrons from his rig, sliding them down his arms one at a time. Then he detached the strap holding his chest piece in place and gingerly lifted it over his head, ducking to hide a wince as he did so. Finally, he began pulling at his shirt.

The dark, thick material was stiff with dried blood and seemed to cling to his body. He hissed as he tried to gently pry it away from the skin on his left side, the side he’d been favoring ever since their rough entry sixteen hours ago. His face twisted when he stretched something that clearly didn’t want to be stretched, and Kelly decided she couldn’t take sitting and watching this happen any longer.

With a tired glance around them just to make sure there weren’t any gossiping eyes watching them, she crouched down in front of Ellsworth and grabbed at the hem of his BDU shirt.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he growled, his voice rough and deep. Distractingly so.

Kelly shook her head. Another entry for the increasingly cluttered corner of her mind.

“I’m getting this shirt out of the way so I can see your injury,” she answered snarkily, trying to ignore the sound of his voice and the slight thrill it sent running down the length of her spine. “Are you going to keep complaining, or are you going to shut up and let me keep you alive?” she asked, pausing to look up and stick her tongue out at him.

Ellsworth paused, looking down at her as she pulled at his shirt. Finally he lifted his hands as if to wave her off for being ridiculous, but couldn’t hide the slight coloration in his cheeks. “I told you already,” he began his weak protest once more.

“‘You’re fine.’ Yeah, I heard you the first ten times,” Kelly responded with an eye roll. “It wasn’t true the first time you said it, it won’t be true the next time you say it either.” She shrugged as she finally began working the shirt up and off his chest. “Cest la vie, or whatever,” she concluded as she lifted the shirt over his head.

His dark hair was messy, protruding from his scalp at odd angles. There was a part of her - a very small part of her, she insisted for no one’s benefit but her own - that wanted to take a moment to run her fingers through that dark hair and find out if it felt as soft as it looked. That same very small part of her let out a low whistle inside her head as her eye trailed down Fred’s torso over his toned muscle and flushed skin.

Then her eyes settled on the mess of biofoam and blood just above his right hip. “You didn’t do a very good job of patching this,” she chided, pulling out a canteen and unscrewing the lid.

“I was a little busy shooting with my other hand at the moment,” Ellsworth hissed, wincing as she trickled water over the hardened foam to relax it and began wiping it away with the sleeve of his discarded BDU. After a few moments of work, Kelly finally revealed the injury itself - a gash running roughly 15 centimeters long and three centimeters wide, snaking around his side.

Kelly hummed thoughtfully. “Well, you certainly don't do things halfway, do you Gunny?” she joked. She snaked her fingertips around the edges of the cut. “This is ugly. You’re going to get infected if you don’t treat it right.”

Fred grunted noncommittally. “I am going to treat it right,” he countered, glaring off in the distance in an attempt to avoid showing any signs of discomfort or pain. “I’m going to ignore it and let the dorks in Sickbay take care of it. Just like I do with everything else.”

“You’re an idiot,” Kelly sighed, a smile turning up the corners of her lips. “Not that this is new information, of course. Just a confirmation of what everybody already knew.”

Ellsworth just shrugged his left shoulder. “I’m a creature of habit.”

Kelly ignored him, reaching back to unclip the small canister of biofoam still hooked to her rig. “I’m going to apply this right, so it can at least do its job and stop the bleeding. I’ve got some gauze, too, that I’ll wrap it with.”

“I don’t need you to baby me,” Fred protested hotly, making a face. “I am -”

Kelly turned a cold glare on him that actually managed to shut him up. “I wasn’t asking, Jumper,” she scolded. Then she felt her cheeks turn a light shade of pink. She didn’t know where that had come from… it usually wasn’t conducive to one’s health to try to reprimand a superior officer. Still, she was stubborn enough that she refused to back down now.

Not to mention the fact that Ellsworth was unsteady on his feet, his face was unnaturally pale, and he looked like he might collapse there and then if it weren’t for the pig head on his shoulders. He was too stubborn to admit he needed help, and she was too stubborn to let him get away with it. Finally, their silent duel concluded with a point to Shaddock when she began cleaning out Fred’s wound with her canteen and he didn’t raise any objection. After rinsing out the injury she carefully injected a bead of biofoam along the torn flesh, waiting for the foam to expand and harden and cover the entire wound. Finally she produced a roll of gauze and began slowly wrapping it around his midsection to help keep everything in place.

As she worked, Kelly couldn’t help but notice the pattern of angry scars that covered Fred’s back. She finished the wrap and tucked it into place to keep it tight, then let her fingers play over the smattering of red lines still exposed above the gauze.

She let out a quiet chuckle when Fred shivered under her touch. “Your fingers are cold,” he said, his voice quieter and far less defiant than she had expected it to be.

“Where did you get this?” Kelly asked, ignoring his complaint and tracing a long red line that ran at least twenty centimeters from the small of his back and up over his left shoulder blade.

“Action with some Innies on Verent back when I was just a marine grunt. One of them got behind me with a knife and tried to carve his name.” He cast a grin over his shoulder and added, “But don’t worry… I had better handwriting than him.”

Kelly rolled her eyes. Typical machismo from the knife fanatic. He probably even kept the dead Insurrectionist’s knife somewhere, the psychopath. A slight shiver ran over her shoulders as she told herself that she didn’t find that somehow attractive. She ran her fingers over to another scar, a vaguely circular mark below his ribcage. “How about the one over here?”

“Lucky shot,” came the gruff answer. “Just a flesh wound; straight through. They still put me on bed rest for a month. I learned how to solve a Rubik’s Cube because I didn’t have anything better to do and the guy in the bed next to me was obsessed with them. Gave me something to do with my hands that wasn’t getting me in trouble, so it seemed like a good habit to pick up.”

Shaddock grinned. She’d seen him messing with that silly little colorful toy whenever they had down time. She’d always assumed it was just to show off.

She ran out of scars on his back, so the ODST absentmindedly circled around to Fred’s front. He told her about the plasma burn on his right shoulder, the barbed wire puncture in his left side, and the series of small marks he had no recollection of getting all over his forearms. Finally, she ran her fingertips around the edges of a large red splotchy mark the size of her palm in the center of his chest. It was shaped vaguely like a duck, she realized with some merriment. “This one?” she breathed, staring intently at the discolored patch of skin.

Ellsworth hesitated a moment, his breath catching in his throat. When she looked up, his bright green eyes seemed far away. “There was a fire,” he finally answered, his voice no louder than a whisper. “When I was a kid. Me and my brother started it out in the barn and, uh…” he paused, his brow furrowing. “It was small. Dad saw the smoke and got it put out. But my brother was panicking and got himself stuck. I grabbed him and dragged him out, and ended up running smack dab into a burning piece of wood.” 

His soft-looking lips curled in an embarrassed half-grin as he said, “I was eight. I knew we weren’t supposed to be playing in the barn, but he was always sick and none of us had the heart to tell him ‘no’ when he wanted to do something.” Then the smile vanished, and that distant look snuck back into his eyes. “He died of Boren’s at the end of that summer. This scar is the only thing I really have to remember him by.”

Kelly watched him intently as he spoke, noting the slight sag in his shoulders and the catch in his voice. She noticed the moisture in his eyes when he turned away to blink too, but elected not to comment on it. Finally, when he turned back to look at her she noticed how close they were standing. Inches apart, close enough for her to feel the heat emanating off of him.

He looked down at her, his eyes widened and his lips parted. Then his hands slowly slid up and rested on top of her ammo pouches, his strong fingers curled in against her unarmored sides. His eyes studied hers for several long moments in a pregnant silence, then flicked downward to stare at her lips.

She didn’t quite know how it got there, but suddenly the hand that wasn’t still pressed against his scar was in his hair. It was as soft as it looked, she noted idly as she pushed her fingers through the tousled mess. Now she was just left to wonder if his lips were the same.

Her breath caught in her throat when she realized that he was tilting his face down toward hers. Her cheeks flushed when she realized that she was rising up onto her toes to meet him in the middle. Her lips parted ever so slightly when she felt his warm breath wash over them and her eyes slid shut when they…

“Gunny, you out here?” O’Hare called out from several yards away, tramping toward them through the thick brush.

Shaddock and Ellsworth both pulled away from each other as if they’d been struck, taking several steps backward to create a “professional distance.” Fred dropped to the ground to collect his discarded uniform and armor while Kelly studied her boots as if they were the most interesting things she’d ever seen in her life.

O’Hare burst into the clearing, his helmet in his hand and his spiky auburn hair slick with sweat. He glanced between the two squad leaders and smirked. “Sorry,” he chuckled in a thick Irish accent, “I didn’t realize I was interrupting your leadership summit. I’ll just come back later.”

“You’re a real cutup, Corporal,” Ellsworth grunted at his second in command, gritting his teeth as he pulled his BDUs over his head. “What do you need?”

The younger Jumper’s face was still covered in a crud-eating grin, but he at least had enough self preservation to know better than to challenge his squad leader. Right then, at least. “We just got a report, Sir. Pickup is five minutes out. I’ve got both squads headed to the LZ now.” He cast one more glance between the two sergeants and seemingly couldn’t help tacking on, “Of course, I could tell them to swing around and pick up One-One-Seven and Oh-Five-Eight first if you’d rather…”

“I won’t tell you what I’d rather you do, Corporal, because that isn’t decent in front of a lady,” Fred growled. He then shot a grin at Kelly and said, “Of course Shaddock is far from a lady, but I still have hopes of reintegrating with some semblance of civilized society someday.”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “Regular comedians, your whole outfit. It’s a wonder you don’t just kill the Banished with your humor,” she remarked with a completely straight face. Still, she couldn’t help but flush slightly at the easy, handsome grin on Ellsworth’s lips.

She slammed her helmet back down onto her head. “I’ll see you two idiots at the LZ,” she grunted, turning away and jogging out of the clearing. “Don’t be late!” she called over her shoulder. “I’m not holding that Pelican for anybody!”

With that, she disappeared into the dark.

[keicordelle]

Fluffvember Day 24 : Outfit Swap - Estinien

"How in the Fury's name can you stand to wear this every day?" Aymeric twisted at the waist, flinching when he nearly impaled himself on the sharp point of a tasset. "This must weigh a half dozen tonze! And you jump in this?"

I shrugged, chest tight with suppressed mirth. "Aye. 'Twas a struggle to get used to at first, but it provides better protection than my old suit - and better than yours by far," I noted, plucking at the loose tabard. "Does this robe not tangle about your legs as you fight?"

"The weights along the bottom keep it from becoming overly cumbersome," he said, gesturing to the silver metal lining the bottom of the cloth. I'd always thought it was ornamental, and a touch excessive at that. "And I don't spend quite as much time throwing myself hither and thither across the battlefield as you do."

"I do not throw myself across the field," I protested, and he arched a brow pointedly. "Fine, perhaps I do. But you have to admit it's effective."

"I never said it wasn't," he agreed easily, flexing his hands in my gauntlets. "How can you grip anything with this much metal between you and your haft? Don't you catch these claws on everything?"

"I don't know how you can bare to leave your fingers exposed like this. How you have never lost one is beyond me. And why are these pauldrons so large? I feel liable to tip over backwards."

He snorted. "They're hardly any more unwieldly than these," he countered, pricking his finger on one of the spikes currently adorning his shoulders. "How do you lift your arms without killing yourself?"

"Carefully." Metal jingled as I demonstrated, the chainmail beneath the Lord Commander's ornate tabard chiming. "At least my armor offers full protection. No wonder you were stabbed straight through your chest piece - you ought to invest in a breastplate, or at least some extra padding beneath your robes." I plucked at the fabric, feeling halfway exposed with so little to protect my chest. Even our old Temple Knight mail was more padded than this.

He winced. "Blame the church for that. 'Tis their design, not mine. But as it has aided me in countless battles and only failed me when I knew not to defend myself, I believe it serves its purpose well enough." He tilted his head, growing serious as he regarded me. "It looks good on you. Seeing you in that, 'tis easy to imagine you as Lord Commander in my stead."

I snorted. "Me, as Lord Commander? I'd run the city into the ground in a matter of moons. And you, Azure Dragoon at my side?"

"You manage the Order of the Knights Dragoon well enough. And some have called me the new Azure Dragoon since your informal resignation," he joked with a wink. "I think you'd be better at it than you give yourself credit for."

"I think we should both be grateful we'll never have to find out. Now come, take up my lance and let's spar. It's been some time since I wielded a proper blade, and I'd like to test my skills - and if you make one joke about us training to swap jobs, I'll undo the latch that holds your codpiece on."

"Alright, alright," he laughed. "You win. Let's see how well you can handle my blade, while I try not to make a fool of myself."

[Masterlist] | [Ao3]

[warsamongthestars]

I'm working on the full set, because I want to do this step by step. So any analysis here is just a small cut of stuff I'm working on in the background.

But there comes a certain point in a user's life where they're so overcome with unbelievable simmering rage, that they have to post upon the internet about it. Because that is what you do, when you are overcome with simmering rage, and a laptop has decided to nest nearby, on its natural habitat--a desk, and it hasn't flapped south for the winter yet.

The biggest failing of the TBBshow, but the greatest strength in TCWshow, when it comes to the Bad Batch, is the Character dynamics.

Its how the characters interact. How they balance, contrast and parallel; both visually, aesthetically, ability-wise, personality wise, and relationship wise.

For example; visually--you've got Tech's professional slicked back hair and sciencey get up, to Hunter's rough and wild and unkempt everything.

Personality example--Crosshair's pride and surety in all things and unshakeable quiet confidence, next to Wrecker's excitability, anxiety, and wears-his-heart-on-his-pauldron.

Aesthetically? Tech's rather unique and fanciful armor (its bright white, its not vacuum capable thanks to where his goggles are at) to Crosshair's more severe, job specific armor (His helmet does not have red paint to avoid catching attention to it as he's a sniper, has a rather painful rod on his shoulder for a mount).

And that's just contrasts.

The Bad Batch are unique in the clone army, because they have their own space that nobody messes with. The Havoc Marauder. And its both their base and their home.

They have their own unique armor, tailored to their strengths, and no other clone has that.

In a way, they're both the outcasts for not being standard clones, but also the Brats of the army for having things that other clones don't--and kinda rubbing it in people's faces.

( What, you think Crosshair was the only one? He's just the one that's loud about it, check the other's behavior. )

So you can imagine why my little coal-fire in my chest, is simmering slowly to a blaze, when I see things that say "Oh the BBs lost their ship and left behind their armor as a symbol for moving on--"

Folks, last I checked, I didn't need to blow up my childhood house and burn all my important things, to move on from childhood. Or from any stage in my life, for that matter.

I certainly didn't need to abandon all my favorite, still fitting, cloths. Especially if they were designed to emphasize my strengths.

Or perhaps, I see things like "But now they can choose what they want to be--"

I'm gonna give you a secret, they've already been doing that. Go back to TCWshow, they have been doing that since the beginning--literally nothing changed expect there's a kid, and an empire.

No.

What it was, was the total decimation of character dynamics.

Because The TCWshow's BB's greatest strength was their strength of character, and the foils and contrasts and interactions, between those four characters. That's what I saw in TCWshow, that's what I came to TBBshow to see.

I wanted to see more. I wanted to see how these characters would interact on their own, to a greater galaxy. Its basically just four dudes doing shenanigans, and that's not hard to write.

And in TBB episode 1, and for 2 years afterwards, they kept Crosshair removed and we never saw those dynamics again. They killed Tech, and then those dynamics were impossible to ever seen on screen again.

It spent 3 years, very much destroying something beautiful they had. I spent 2 years in painful hope, that they would get back those dynamics, and frankly I feel strung along. It isn't just Tech's not-revival, its All of The Show. It started with Crosshair, and it never Ended.

That, has been my biggest issue. There is no "Oh they can move on now"--They could've just up and abandoned the Republic at any time, y'know, they're a special operations unit with their own ship and their own abilities and their own armor, and they could've easily just taken off and done whatever they wanted.

And you can't tell me anyone would go after them, because nobody knew who the hell they were. Even in the cut-content from the Old TCWshow BB story, nobody still knew who they were expect Cody and maybe a small reputation.

If Gregor, a full on Commando, can just up and vanish as a dish washer for a while, so can the super special awesome squad.

There is no metaphor here, we were straight up robbed, and the heist started at episode 1.

[hawksblooded]

[ MEND ]  for sender to treat receiver’s wound which leads to them having to remove an article of clothing resulting in revealing scars hidden beneath // from @culltist

↣ SCAR PROMPTS. always open

“ It’s fine- I’m fine, ” she huffs, breath ragged under her mask. Beraiah tugs it down without even looking up at her.

“ You’re not fine, ” he groans, working at unclasping the pauldron off her left arm, blood-slick leather straps slipping through his fingers. “ Gods fucking damn it will you stop moving! ” She sighs, the sound hitching in her throat as the pain wracks her body. Her arm is limp in his grasp, all her concentration on keeping the muscles from contracting under the shock. It would only serve to heighten the pain. 

“ Breathe in, ” he tells her, and though her eyes roll at his order still she does so. There’s a loud crack as he effortlessly breaks off the crossbow bolt stuck in her shoulder, throwing it aside. When she tries to help him work at taking off her breastplate he shoos her hand away. “ Let me do it. You’ll hurt yourself more with all your thrashing, ” Beraiah admonishes gently.

He works dutifully, and Alizebeth watches him with pain-thinned amber eyes. It’s not her first injury. She’s not sure why he’s fussing over it so much. Then again, Beraiah was nothing if not dedicated. Her armor clanks on the ground, discarded with a swift movement. Then comes the leather chain-coat, and below the gambeson. He unties it with one strong tug of the tied cords. With deliberate attention that takes Alizebeth by surprise  he slides the thick woolen garment off her shoulder.

The bolt has lodged firmly under her collarbone, where a scar on her chest ran up. Her arm, too, was covered in nicks, and not just a few bites. The marks are pale on her umber skin. It’ll be a new one among many.

“ It’s just a bolt. No need to make a fuss, ” she replies weakly. Her eyes are closed as she awaits what she knows to be the most painful part of the process. He'll have to dig the bolthead out. She hears the grinding of a knife unsheathed. “ Shut up, ” Beraiah answers quietly. “ before I maim ya any further. ” 

Her teeth grit and grind as his knife slides into the wound.

[kedsandtubesocks]

erika dear 🥺 tell me why this... somehow makes me think of my mando bakugou ??? i think it's because of the high neck maybe !!! it's so casual but idk !!! when he takes it all off maybe...😏 BUT MAYBE I JUST ALWAYS HAVE HIM ON MY MIND ALRHAODHAKKA

My darling Willow why is tumblr like this and not sending the link I’m gonna SHAKE THIS BLUE SITE WITH MY BARE HANDS!!

(edit - Willow sent me the link via messages we are so blessed: https://www.tumblr.com/vaporzzz/715171240310128640/happy-birthday-bakugou?source=share)

But the visual of a high neck…it’s too real because the mandalorian flight suit that most of them wear is thick and covers up a lot so it’s not risqué in any sense but it still reveals so much at the same time??

Like can you imagine the first time you notice it?? It would be when you have to heal his grumpy metal head. A blaster shot had managed to snag the sweet spot between his neck and shoulder not covered by his beskar shoulder pauldron. He goes feral, angered that he is wounded. And when you use the force to heal the wound, after having to snap at him, your hands press against the wound. It’s then you realize he wears a full layer beneath the armor.

But the actual time ever seeing him fully just in the flight suit?? OOF!

It’s late one night when a mandalorian cruiser ship returns back to the home planet but in a screeching clash. It shakes up the entire community. Everyone, including you, runs out into the night to check on the ship and it’s crew.

Thankfully the ship took most of the damage and everyone inside makes it back rather unscathed.

You help the medics with anything they need and even use the force to move debris getting in the way. In the heat of it Bakugou yells orders the entire time.

He is a fierce but strangely enough comfort during the whole ordeal. You can’t help it. You turn to check on his loud metal ass.

Bakugou stands hands on his hips talking with the pilot of the ship, his loud voice now composed and even comforting.

You think maybe it’s not him at first because he is not in full armor. The black painted beskar and white strip out lining the t visor is the dead give away that it’s him. However, it feels as if you are seeing him for the first time. No…it is the first time seeing him and realizing that he is a man. You wonder maybe a wild rancor has rammed into your stomach because you have to catch your breathe.

The black flight suit completely covers him, doesn’t even allow an complete image of how toned his arms are. It instead extenuates his broad shoulders. You notice his tapered waist and how sturdy his entire chest appears.

Bakugou looks strong, built, maybe even stronger out of armor and it does not make any sense! It makes you want to scream!

You should not be down right staring at this man, this mandalorian, especially not just during a time like this. And ship crash accident or not, the lightsaber quiet on your hip is a silent judgmental weight and reminder why you should not be thinking these thoughts.

With a firm inhale to keep yourself composed you jog over to help Kirishima and a few others.

The rest of the night you avoid even glancing at Bakugou. Even when he yells at you-

“Shitty Jedi, you alright?”

“Yeah I’m good!” Is all you yell back. You don’t even turn towards him because it is taking so much strength to not simply turn around and stare at him.

You even have to force yourself not to just think about Bakugou or image of his shoulders, or the way you want to imagine how sturdy his chest feels-

A horrified panic seeps in from just thinking of that and it closes your throat.

All you can do is exhale loud and shakily.

“Hey, you okay?” Sweet Kirishima asks and now you’re embarrassed even more.

You turn to him with a bright nod. “Yup all good.”

A lie, an awful poisonous one you need to find anti venom for and fast.

This feels like a test from the force and you hate that it’s one you might already be failing…

[the-baddest-of-batches]

Sneak Peek: Dar'Aliit Chapter 3 - Wrong Side of Heaven

We all know the plan. I crouch beside Nyo. Hook has his back to the tree across from us. On my left is the 212th trooper, Aftermath. The plan is to capture a Jedi. My blaster wavers ready in my hands.

My head hasn’t really been able to stop reeling, however. In the silent shadowy world, I feel almost like something is coming from every side. The captain took several troopers back to base. We’re holding the forest in case he runs.

He is a Jedi after all. That’s the part I can’t reconcile no matter how tightly I grip my blaster nor my ideals. The Jedi are supposed to be on our side, fighting with us, for us, for the Republic. But the Captain called him a traitor. He said this guy was using us.

Why? Who would do that?

I shake my head and focus. Somewhere in the distance there’s blasterfire and my stomach clenches. You had your chance to speak up. But you know what you’re doing.

No one trains us to kill Jedi, though. Let alone apprehend them.

“Relax,” Nyo mutters to me. I glance down at him and take a couple of breaths.

“Think of him like a big monster, or beast,” Nyo drones on. “Aim for the head and stun.”

“You’d think they would teach us what to do when these guys go rogue,” Aftermath echoed my own sentiments. He peeks around the corner. “Coming this way,” his whisper is rushed.

I see the green double bladed lightsabers seconds later as they slice through bodies. Screaming. I can’t unclamp my hands from my blaster.

What’s worse is the Jedi is laughing. He leaps between the trees and lands with a thud several feet behind us. In that instant I realize that no matter what we might’ve dreamed about, no matter whether our goals were realistic or just some ideal, it all ends here.

There’s carnage in this Jedi’s wake. He has no remorse, no feeling for us. We are nothing to him.

And he smiles as he whirls, lightsabers twirling, and I can see that he’s relishing this. We’re his prey.

“Traitor!” Hook lunges out of hiding. He fires wild. I almost leap out after him, but Nyo grabs me. I almost stumble, eyes on Hook as the jedi whirls, zeroing in on Hook.

“We have to rescue him!” I stagger out. “Hook!” I fire two stun bolts. With a twirl of his hand, General Krell deflects both and finishes by sinking the lightsaber through Hook’s chest.

I gag.

We’re spotted.

“Insolent clones,” Krell sputters and he’s sailing toward us, running faster than I would’ve imagined an alien of his size could.

“Go!” Nyo yells.

Aftermath leaps out in front of me. I fire stun bolts over Aftermath’s shoulder. Nyo runs around and we fire at the blinding light of whirling lightsabers which barely mask the shadow barreling down on us. Aftermath lunges aside as a lightsaber sweeps his way. I back up a step. I want to run, and I want to see this guy dead.

Then the Jedi pauses, and I look up. I have a clear shot at his head. I could kill him right here, right now, but he’s gloating. He knows we’re nothing.

And I know it too.

“Useless,” Krell hisses.

I snap up my blaster already knowing I won’t make it. The green blade cuts the sky.

“Kian!” Nyo skids up in front of me and gets off a shot. It sails uselessly through the sky, though and the green lightsaber completes it’s path, carving through Nyo’s body instead of mine.

I’m screaming. I can feel the heat on my face, and there’s something burning in my own chest, burning through the armor, into the skin. I’m trying to reach Nyo, and I’m falling. I’m blacking out.

I hit the ground.

My blaster is gone. I can’t feel anything except pain and shock and I’m frozen where I lay on the ground. There’s a shudder as the Jedi leaves and only then can I lift my head, choking on air.

“Nyo…” I grab for him. My vision is blurry. I manage to work off my helmet and hook my fingers on Nyo’s shoulder pauldron. I haul myself forward. My chest burns. I think the lightsaber caught me too, but I can feel my body. I can feel it on fire with pain.

Panting, I gather my knees under me and crawl over to Nyo. I tear off his helmet and then I can see it.

The smoldering skin. The missing half of his body. I can see and smell the blood, but I can’t comprehend it all until I find myself looking at Nyo’s empty lifeless eyes and it hits me.

They’re all gone.

Nyo. Hook. Haze. Morgan. Nenti.

But not me.

The horror hits my stomach before I can scream and instead, I retch as the pain and nausea and gruesome truth blacks out all my senses.

[tomepact]

“you are not wrong .” he sputtered out the words in gasps. his wounds were grave and his consciousness rapidly fading. he couldn't quite see hymnal's face ... but he felt him, this time, under his grasping hand. the fires of the inferno calling; he held onto hymnal's shoulder tight for just one more moment. “i- i'm sorry ... for this - for everything ... - that it has to end this way – but it is not your fault but mine. and you are not wrong! ... to trust, to believe ... to help ... to care for and love people even when they disappoint you - ... it is not wrong. you didn't do anything wrong ... not a thing! please don't let this change you. not that part of you ... ”

the mind does strange things in times of intense troubles.

hymnal's mind takes him back, to sitting among the pews of the temple that had been his home. a cleric speaks prayers over them, reciting old hymns, and his hands are clasped and his head is bowed. it is a memory in a memory, because he remembers remembering something else: the face of a man desperate in the middle of a burning battlefield, holding onto hymnal like he's a lifeline.

aid those who are without guidance.

hymnal had started crying so hard in the middle of service that he had been led out of the room. he didn't know why, at the time, but it's all painfully clear now.

the same man lays at his feet now, burning blood seeping into his clothing and the ground and into the roots of the dark trees over them. his wounds are grave, inflicted by a combination of magecraft and the sword that hymnal clings to like it might be the last prayer he has in this world. above him is the only source of light illuminating them, a bead that spins into a halo behind his broken horns.

in another life, it's vespin's claws that are buried in his chest, grasping for the heart of a champion before the world becomes ash around him. this time, however, history rights itself -- the champion of good wins this battle.

you are a fool. you trusted him, and look -- look at what has happened again.

he hiccups over his next breath, trembling all over. he is no experienced knight in this life. here, he was not raised in the hallowed halls of grand cathedrals to walk the path of righteous anger.

here, he was a boy from a farming village wearing armor from another time.

vespin's hand grips into his shoulder, in the place where the pauldron meets the chestplate, and those fingers dig in almost painfully tight as he speaks. hymnal has to strain to hear him over the ringing in his ears. (he only learns later that the strain is because he's crying too hard, that the sobbing sounds are coming from himself.)

" i should have listened. i should have-- "

he should have stayed on the path from the beginning. or he should have run at the first opportunity. he should have done something.

please don't let this change you.

" i'm sorry -- i'm -- "

the fires burn too hot to hang onto vespin for too long. he tries, clinging to his arm until the flames lick up the exposed parts of his arms and he's forced to draw back. eventually, he's left alone in the dark, clutching his arms against himself as he tears the gauntlets off and tosses them to the side.

he's not sure how long he sits there before someone else comes along to find him -- time here doesn't move, not the way everything else does, and between memories of old and new, he can't stop crying.

(hellfire, it seems, never stops burning. the scars remain, black veins in the gold and white marble, and they hurt. they always hurt.)