#also I’m scared of knives and sharp things and pointy things

[skelly-bean]

For years I’ve thought about starting to try wood carving for fun but I never have for various reasons

The want to wood carve is haunting me again today

[oonajaeadira]

LOSING MY RELIGION: CHAPTER 5: THE ATTACK

(Photo: The Mandalorian. Star Wars / Disney+)

Pairing: Post Season 2 Din Djarin / force sensitive reader. Soft. Super soft slow burn on both sides, internal struggles. Alternating POV.

Warnings: So, so, so much fluff and yearning. Yearning and fluff. Sparring/weapon usage. Violence including: knives, choking, blasters-to-heads, punching, kicking, force-throwing. Injuries including: cuts and bruised innards / healing. Mind-control. Mourning for a lost spouse. Emotional farewells. The teeniest-tiniest amount of combat kink and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it allusions to masturbation and fear of being taken advantage of? Is that everything? Did I mention tons of yearning and fluff? Because warning: tons of yearning and tons of fluff.

A/N: I can’t apologize for the amount of fluff in this one. And I won’t. But hey, we’re working into some deeper feelings now, and all I really wanna do is wreck you. Also. Lots more action; don’t let the warnings fool you, the violence is NOT gratuitous, I was just trying to be thorough and list everything, even if it just shows up in passing. Thanks so much for reading my writings, kitkats.

Summary: You and Din learn just how well you can take care of yourselves...and each other.

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←-Previous Chapter 4: Resonance

 ________________

PART 1: DIN DJARIN

“Okay, let’s see what we’re working with here. Show me what you’ve got. Go.” Din steps into a fight stance, tamping down the grass underfoot and brandishing a beskar spear pointed at your chest. It’s been a while since either of you had a friendly tactical tussle and you’re both excited about the idea of a good spar. At least, he thought you were. You’re just standing there, staring back at him with an unlit laser sword in your hand, like a lothcat in the searchbeam. “Is this your strategy? You know this thing is sharp, right? You do not want me to strike first.”

“I thought you were going to use the Darksaber.”

“Not to spar, not yet. You don’t have armor; I could take your hand off. It’s not safe until I know how you fight and how to compensate.”

“Oh, but a big pointy spear is okay.”

“I’m not going to jab. Just swing and block. It’s mostly up to you to attack.”

“You know I am using a lightsaber, right? It also takes off hands.”

“Aim for the beskar.”

“What if I miss?”

“I won’t let that happen. Quit stalling. Go.” 

And yet, you just continue to stare at him. This doesn’t seem like you. What in the galaxy are you waiting for? He’s starting to get impatient. You act like you’re scared and you’ve never done this before.

“Does anyone ever actually fight back? Look at you. You’re like a one-man assault squadron.”

Ah. The helmet. Din relaxes his stance, “It’s me under here. I’m not going to hurt--” but immediately brings the spear shaft up to block your lightsaber blade, pushing you back. Dank farrik, that came out of nowhere. Your attack actually sends him backward a step. “Hey!”

“You said ‘go.’” 

Din tilts his visor pointedly at you. Really?

You shrug and there’s just a hint of an apology in your small smile. ”I use the tricks I have. Don’t worry, you’re still going to come out the winner here.”

“Well, at least you’re fast.”

“Apparently, you’re faster.”

Okay. So you play a little dirty. Good. He’s not against some fun. He factors in this new information, takes up his stance again, and begins to move in. 

Sizzles and clangs from the weapons bounce off the side of the Crest, echoing over the wide open field, up into the dome of the sky above you both. Sparring was a suggestion to pass the time while lunch was in the fire--and from a professional standpoint, he wanted to see how well you could defend yourself as a secondary measure to his security detail. So far, you’ve been able to block his advances, but you’re hesitant to take openings to counter-attack.

“I can tell you’re going easy on me, Captain.”

“Just trying to get a read.”

“I’m not useless, I’m just not a knight. Come at me for real.” 

“You really don’t want that.” 

Your mouth sets in a hard line. “You think you know what I want.” 

Your determination is damn pretty, but Ahsoka was right, it’s laced with fear. Still, you begin to circle him again and he smiles behind the visor, loving that you won’t back down, even when you know you can’t win.

“You want to look for your openings. You’re not aggressive enough.”

“I’m usually--” you handily block a couple of slashes from the spear, “--trying to stay alive, not lean into a fight.”

“Yeah? And what if you have nowhere to go and the enemy keeps coming? How do you stop them?” You come in to strike him--too late--he’s already moving to block and swings the spearhead around to your neck, resting it gently on your shoulder, completely controlled.  “What’s your strategy here?”

You knock the spear off your shoulder and bring your weapon up to the ready. “Mostly just trying to disarm you.”

Din flips the spear in one hand, raising it high, and thrusts the spearhead into the ground. He leaves it standing up straight, then aggressively comes at you, bearing down. “Well, I’m disarmed, now what.” You retreat from his bold, long strides, nearly running backward. “How are you going to stop me.” 

You get a good couple of swings in, which he deftly blocks with the vambraces. He sees the determination in your eyes, but also the fear. He should stop, is about to, when you throw your hand out at him…. 

It’s like being rammed in the chest by a small mudhorn.

He goes flying back, landing near the spear, knocking the breath out of him.

Damn. That was a damn good move. He forgot that you probably had that in your arsenal. He immediately reaches for his weapon, but it lifts out of the ground and zips away from him. 

As he gets his feet under him and rises, you walk up and stand over him, breathing heavy, hair moving in the breeze, brandishing both weapons like some kind of warrior goddess. “Like that.” 

Din slightly short circuits here. This display of yours trips a switch somewhere in him--like starting a furnace, an engine, a whole damn star--and he grabs the spear with one hand, blocking your saber strike with the other vambrace as he uses brute force to try to either regain his weapon or tug you in close except--

--you simply let go of the spear and let him stumble a step backward, the momentum of his pull twisting him to the side. When he centers himself, he has just enough time to block your next strike. 

“Good!” 

White-hot admiration burns through him, but it's not enough. He wants to watch you pull that signature move again, see if he can learn to resist it, and needs to get you into a position where you’re forced to rely on it. Din easily knocks away a couple more of your attacks, then spins the butt of the spear lightning fast up and under your weapon hand, sending your lightsaber arching away from you into the grass. You retreat away from the reach of the spearhead as he swings it back around, fiercely staring him down, and he counters to keep himself between you and your weapon. One last taunt should incite you to act. 

“Do you yield, little bird?”

He watches as you raise your hand and close your eyes; he digs in his heels, waiting for the push to come. 

Instead, there’s a loud clang as something hits his helmet from the rear, knocking his head forward. He spins to look behind him, “What the--” nothing there. But when he turns back to you, you’ve got the lightsaber hilt in your hand. 

And you’re laughing, affectionately, the afternoon sun casting a brilliant, dazzling glow around you. Damn, woman.

“Yes. Yes, I yield.”

Damn.

_________________

PART 2: YOU

The sun is getting low in the sky and you’re nervous about being late for supper with Shiari’s family. Although nobody would assume it looking at you--laying in the grass, twirling a blade of it in your fingers, watching the pastel Chalactan clouds. Your companion wanted to take a shower before heading out, and you know it probably takes some time to get the gear off and on, but even so, he seems to be taking longer than usual. You two agreed on a clever system in the Crest--a signal light on several panels throughout the ship that alert each other if one of you is occupying the refresher cabinet. Sure, there’s a sliding privacy panel, but the closet is small, no room to undress inside if you’re using the sonic. You’ve spent your fair share of time sealed up in the cockpit during his turn when he’s had to maneuver all that. But it doesn’t usually take this long. Maybe there’s a hold-up with the armor. Or he’s stalling because he’s dreading a communal meal. Or he’s simply enjoying the use of an actual sanisteam. 

Or... maybe you got him riled up during the spar and he really needs to relax. 

Ugh. Self-flattery. You were putting forth a pretty strong effort there and he was wiping the floor with you like it was nothing. Like a lothcat pawing at a half-dead mouse. He’s so...powerful, both inspiring and frightening; even by Mandalorian standards, the man’s a beast. If what he displayed today was only a fraction of his skill…. Stars, he must be a terrifying bounty hunter.

You realize how lucky you are to have him on your side, and it’s like being swaddled in beskar yourself; you feel completely protected, almost invincible. Although you know you can hold your own out here, now you truly know that almost nothing can touch you. 

That is. Other than him.

Not that you think he would harm you. Not that you believe he could harm you. But there’s certainly no way you could stop him if he wanted to. Tucked up together in a durasteel box for days on end, you never felt threatened. Not once. Seeing what you’ve seen, do you feel different now? You can answer that before the question is done forming. Under all that beskar you know him to be a decent, honorable--even gentle--man. And now that you’ve seen partially what he’s capable of and you know--you really know--he would never use it against you…only for you... 

The way he yanked that spear away from you….If you hadn’t let go, you would have gone crashing into him….

You’re suddenly very, very warm.

Maybe you’re the one that needs a long shower right now. 

There’s footsteps in the grass. The open ramp of the Crest starts closing by remote. Then the Mandalorian is standing above you, gloved hand out to help you to your feet. “Ready?”

________________

Couldn’t ask for a more beautiful sunset as you walk into town, all pinks and reds in this atmosphere. And you get to see it in surround--in the sky on one side, and reflected in beskar on the other.

“That thing you do with your powers.” He speaks slow and thoughtfully through the modulator. Relaxed.

“Oh. That one thing?”

“Today. The...the way you threw me.” 

“Force push.”

“It’s powerful. You should lean into that.” 

Powerful. Really? Wait. There’s a smile in that statement. What’s he up to. Is he teasing you?

“Are you saying I’m hopeless with a lightsaber?”

“Well, you’re better with the Force thing.”

“It’s not… reliable. And it takes too much energy. Once or twice is fine, but I might pass out after that. Maybe only once... if they’re wearing enough beskar to weigh a metric ton.”

“Hmm. Too bad. It’s your best weapon.” That is definitely a lazy smirk in there. You’ve never seen him in such a light mood.

“I was using my best weapon the whole time.” The visor turns questioningly to you and you grin up at him. “Making you think I’m afraid of you.”

“Are you challenging me? Because that feels like a challenge.” 

There is a very pleasant danger in his tone there. Huh. Looks like your spar lit his engines today. 

Well. That makes both of you.

Your thrill at the possibility of him actively flirting with you is short-lived as you get a pang of something...wrong. Here, in the town center, there’s a couple of elderly folks sitting on a blanket by the fountain, sharing some food. Four kids running and yelling, kicking a ball back and forth. A trio of older students lounging on the grass, pouring over datapads. A weathered-looking man leaning up against the near side of the fountain, wrapped in a tattered, dark blue robe, presumably some vagabond. But he sticks out--everyone here dresses in more neutral colors, fabrics dyed with the materials native to the planet. There’s nothing in this environment that can produce that dark hue.

“Captain.”

“I see him.”

You take his elbow so he can lead you while you close your eyes and concentrate hard, throwing out your senses, trying to get a read. The first thing you pick up--unsurprisingly--is Din and his mixture of apprehension and alertness. But you skip past that to the man in the cloak. He’s focused on you both. And not with the curiosity of one of the older folks here. He’s got something darker brewing in him. But you’re not strong enough to see what.

The same feeling comes from another point. “In front. To the right.”

“Under the tree?”

You open your eyes in the direction that the Force is telling you to look. There’s a young man, arms crossed, sitting with his back against a tree, head covering pulled down over his eyes, seemingly sleeping in the coming twilight. “Yes.”

“Did you bring your saber?”

You nod. It’s attached to your belt as always, but hidden in the folds of your tunic.

“Good.”

Looking down, you notice his holster is empty. The confidence you had in him earlier slips and your fear ticks up a notch. 

“You don’t have your blaster.”

“Can’t carry it here. There are mandates against it.”

“You’re unarmed?”

A scoff pushes through the modulator. “That’s insulting.”

Ah. Of course he’s probably secretly armed to the teeth. All the time. His whole damn body is a weapon.

At the door of the cottage, you both stop for a moment, stepping in close to confer under the eaves. “They were definitely focused on us. I couldn’t read anything else.”

He sighs. “Okay. Go eat. I’m staying out here.”

“Do you think it’s necessary?”

“I don’t know. But we knew this might happen and I’m not taking any chances. I’m not eating anyway. Go on.”

It’s not ideal, but then again, maybe it’s nothing. You hand over all trust and let the man do his job, and knock on the door so you can do yours.

__________

Supper in Shiari’s house is a bittersweet affair. Everyone seems happy and excited, ready to talk about the girl’s new adventure, but you can feel waves of heartbreak coming off her Nanni and her father.

It must be hard for the widower. Judging by the baby, he lost his wife probably less than a year ago and now he’s saying goodbye to his daughter. He’s a handsome man, dark hair and sparkling eyes…. You really hope they don’t lose their shine when Shiari goes. 

Stars, the food is so good; savory and spicy, tangy and sweet. You take mental notes, hoping to be able to replicate some of it later...or at least get close. In the morning, Shiari’s family, neighbors, and friends will all bring her out to the ship, a big party to send her off. Like any six-year-old, she’s energetic and fidgeting, asking all kinds of questions about who will be there and dreaming about her next few days. Dear girl, she really should be focusing on this good meal, you do not have the heart to tell her that it’ll be missed when she’s in training. Unfortunately, another lesson to learn. Oh well. You’re certainly enjoying it enough for her. And for your partner, who’s not getting any of the sweets.

How is he doing out there? Your awareness is heavily split between the happy family scene in front of you, and the door behind, separating you from Din. You’d made excuses for him, explained the helmet thing, and Nanni still insisted on bringing out a plate. Wonder if he’s been able to enjoy any of it.

After supper, you follow Shiari to her room, and one by one, regard each of her possessions--a couple of dolls, a few small toys, some dresses, her blanket--and together you decide what must come with her and what must stay behind, giving her a moment to let each thing go. The little girl does this gracefully, calmly, wanting so badly to walk into her new life with the right attitude and fewer distractions.

Her Nanni comes in to ask if there is room in Shirai’s bag for one more thing--a crimson shawl. You don’t have to guess who it used to belong to.

“It’s okay, Nanni,” the initiate says to her grandmother. She reverently takes the shawl and wraps it around herself, more of a cloak on her small body. “I don’t have to make room in the bag. I can just wear it.”

________________

Out in the back garden, Shiari’s father stands in the darkness, looking up at the stars through the branches of the big tree.

You stand next to him in silence and wait. This is always the hardest part, but the most necessary.

After a minute, he speaks up, voice catching in his throat. “I miss her so much,” and he continues to look at the stars, can’t rip his eyes away, the metaphorical place where his wife has gone, the literal place where his child will go. “Shiari seemed to take it so easily. She really believes that her mother became part of the Force.”

“That’s exactly why it was easy for her then. Why it’s easy for her now.”

Blinking up into the sky, his strong chin and nose cutting into the night, this lovely man tries and fails to control a sob and your heart twists for him, archiving the beauty of his love and anguish out here in the starlight. “I don’t understand that.”

“Her connection to the Force is strong. Stronger than mine. She feels it very, very deeply. She most likely felt the moment her mother became a part of it. Working with the Force, in many ways, connects them to each other. She follows the Force because she is following her heart.”

His head drops to his chest, and he quietly weeps. 

It’s a moment he needs, and you let him have it. Then, maybe overstepping a bit, you move toward him and lightly fold your hand over his shoulder, driving your compassion into him. “Luke is a good person. He is the son of one of the greatest Jedi I have ever known. She will be taught well and cared for. This is not forever. You will see her again. I promise.” 

The healing begins to work through him, gradually bringing him some peace. “Thank you. Please. Keep her safe.”

“You have my word.”

_________________

When you leave by the front door, you nearly trip over the empty plate left underfoot. Looks like Din took some time to tip the helmet. Good. The town is dark, save for a few lanterns lining the wide path up to the center and the one near the door you’re standing at. There are a few people out and about, walking in the early evening, but none of them are the reflective glint you’re looking for. You put your spine to the doorjamb and wait; he’ll be back. 

In the meantime, there’s the next few days to mentally prepare for. Shiari will be with you now on the five- or six-day trek to Ajan Kloss. Entertaining her, training her, caring for her are all things to look forward to. She’s an amazing child and, selfishly, you crave time with another force-sensitive being; it’s been years since you’ve been around one of your own. But it means less quiet time with Din, fewer mealtimes pressed back to back, or hearing the deep hum of his voice without the filter. 

Maybe that’s for the best. This afternoon put you both into high gear, your own affection shifting into full-blown attraction. This is not like you. It’s not like you to be this unprofessional and it’s not like you to fall so quickly...and for someone so...brusque. When he showed up at the clinic, you were afraid he was there to do you harm, and now he’s the man whose presence makes you feel safer than anything you’ve ever known. This supper tonight is the longest you’ve been apart in more than a week and you should feel thankful for a little break, but all you want is him, hulking and terse beside you again. 

Perhaps you should give him some space. Focus on Shiari.

But still. If he gave you an opening.... Blast. You know you’d take it. In a heartbeat.

A small, blinking red light catches your attention near a tree not far away, bringing you out of your thoughts and switching you into alertness. Now that your eyes are adjusted to the darkness, you can see his outline there, covering and uncovering the digipanel on his arm to signal you. You slowly stand and face him to let him know you see him, then he signals for you to make for one of the buildings down the road, go around, and he’ll meet you in back. He points to his eyes and then pats his hip. “Show me you’ve got it.” When you shift the fabric of your tunic, the metal of your saber glints in the lantern light. And when he nods and gives you the go, you go.

You head down the road, looking for all the world that you’re just leaving the house and returning to the ship, and then duck around the building without incident. There’s a small lantern back here at the alley door, and he’s standing in its glow so he doesn’t scare you coming out of the dark. As soon as you’re there, he pivots and moves quickly back toward the house through the alley and you jog along behind him.

“There’s at least four of them. Don’t think they’re ciphers, just hired bandits. They’ll know we’re here for the kid and they’ll have to strike tonight if they want her. They’ll most likely wait until there are fewer people around.”

“Then why are we waiting to be attacked? Shouldn’t we just grab Shiari and go?”

“And risk getting jumped in the street? With the kid? Even if they didn’t attack here, they’d follow. We leave the kid in the house, I take them out. Then we can grab her and get off the ground before anyone else shows up.”

“There’s four of them and two of us.”

“There’s four of them and one of me. You are going to stand down.”

“You’re going to take them. Four to one.”

“Yep.”

“Then why did you want to know if I had my lightsaber on me?”

“Just in case the worst happens. We’re going to move in the open. Keep to the shadows. Stay behind me.”

Leaving the alley, you follow him through the sparse trees flanking the circle of cottages. He chooses one far enough in the shadows, but with a good view of Shiari’s home. This is where you’ll wait. Tapping a button on his remote panel, he uses the visor, scanning the street. “I’m keeping thermal eyes on the area, but if you see or pick up anything otherwise, you let me know. When I move, you stay here. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

The next hour crawls as you sit in apprehensive silence. He’s right. It’s not a question of if they’ll strike tonight, but when. You close your eyes now and then and reach out, hoping to get a glimmer of something, anything, but no. At first you think you’re too anxious, you can’t even read Din and he’s sitting right there. And then you realize that he’s flipped all his switches off, has put all emotion in stasis, and is just a hunting machine right now, nothing outside of vigilance, all systems eyes and ears. But you keep alert. The street gets quieter. Lanterns burn out. Then, at one point, you get a hint of fear and aggression coming down the road.

“There.” You both whisper at the same time.

And in an instant, the bounty hunter is on his feet and moving in.

The Mandalorian moves through the shadows of the sparse trees on a perpendicular path toward the incoming merc, and before they meet, a whipcord shoots out, wrapping around the man’s ankles, yanking him to the ground. Din immediately digs in his heels and starts pulling the guy toward him into the shadows, but a shout brings two others out of their hiding places. The young human male from before who had pretended to be asleep under the tree and a Trandoshan female, bigger than Din, and coming in hot.

The young one throws a knife at Din, pinging off his pauldron as the Mandalorian makes a line for him, punching him in the flank hard--really hard--you’re surprised Din didn’t put his fist right through him. As the young man goes down, the woman comes up from behind, catching Din under the chin with a techstaff and lifting him off the ground, using her full force to choke him. You immediately recognize the mistake in this plan--that staff won’t be hers for much longer. Sure enough, Din points an arm up and behind him, letting loose with the flamethrower, sending her screeching backwards, letting go of the staff. It’s his now. He whips it in a low, wide arc, knocking her feet from under her, dropping her hulking frame to the ground.

This is incredible. He’s incredible. In all of half a minute, he’s everywhere at once and they’re all doomed. All three of them are on the ground now, struggling in some way; the first merc is almost untangled from the whipcord, but Din just retracts it a bit and it tightens, spinning the man hard onto his face. The other two are starting to get up--

--but something pings you, catches your attention, moving slowly through the shadows. The man in the dark cloak. Coming in from the east….but he’s not heading for the fray. He’s moving through a gap between the circle of houses….

He’s going for the back door. 

Din can’t see him.

You don’t even think, you just run, hoping you can catch him in time. There’s fear rising--not for you but for the girl--no. 

Push that down. 

Focus.

The garden is dark, but you can sense he’s back here and you stand still for a moment, waiting to get a read on where. 

A shot comes out of the darkness, just missing your head, hitting the side of the house behind you. 

Kriffing kriff, he’s got a blaster. And he can see in the dark. 

Well. So can you.

The lightsaber illuminates the whole garden, and you just get sight of the cloak as your enemy ducks behind the big tree in the middle, leaving you out in the open. Damn. He immediately starts shooting from behind his cover and he’s at close range. You’ve got no choice but to stand your ground, deflect the shots, and slowly move in. The blaster is loud enough to alert Din, he’ll be here any second, all you have to do is possibly get close enough for a good Force push--

--and then something hits you hard from behind, taking you down, your lightsaber goes flying, plunging the garden back into darkness. Another assailant is on you, punches you hard in the gut, winding you, but before he can get another hit in, you Force push him with so much adrenaline behind it that he smacks into the side of a house with a sickening crunch and falls moaning to the ground.

The damage is done though, it was enough of a distraction for the man in the dark cloak to move in, pointing the blaster at your head. Your lightsaber is gone and you know you don’t have time to gather the strength for another push.

Thankfully, a light comes out of the darkness. “Drop it. Or you’re dead.”

You can’t see him behind it, but Din’s steady voice is, by far, the most beautiful sound in the world right now. In the helmet’s beamlight, the man in the cloak curses as he rips the darkvision goggles off his head, the light too bright for the enhanced scopes. But the blaster stays aimed squarely at your face.

“I said, drop it.”

The man sneers, his teeth the color of his cloak. “I know you don’ave no blaster, Mando. You make a move, I shoot.”

Everyone is a still life of tension and breathing. It’s true. Din doesn’t have his blaster. Not close enough for the flamethrower. Whipcord won’t be fast enough.

Breathe.

Put your fear aside.

Use the tricks you have.

Laying in the grass, sinking your emotions deep and concentrating, you barely lift the fingers of one hand, sweeping them through the air as you imagine drawing a curtain across the man’s mind. Voice calm and smooth, “I’m not worth shooting.”

The man doesn’t turn his head from the light, but his gaze drifts down to you.

Stay calm. Repeat yourself. “I’m not worth shooting.”

Something shifts in his eyes. “You’re not worf shooting.”

You move your hand again. “You don’t need a blaster to fight a Mandalorian.”

His gaze shifts back to Din. “I don’ need no blaster to fight a Mandalorian.” He throws the weapon down in the grass, sneers, puts up his fists. Din is immediately on him, charging him, taking him down in one kick, the violence lost in the darkness as the beamlight goes out. The lightning-swift dousing of the guy’s optimism would be funny if you hadn’t just been in mortal danger.

Your job is done here. Curling up away from the scuffle and putting your face in the grass is your only motivation right now. You nurse your aching gut and let Din take care of the rest; thank stars you can count on him. And after wrapping up his punishment and securing both men, of course he’s kneeling next to you in the dark, scooping you up to a sitting position, efficiently dusting the grass out of your hair and off your tunic.

“You okay, little bird?”

“Yeah, the other one got a good punch in, that’s all.”

“Well, you did worse to him.” One of his arms slides under yours, the other under your knees. In a smooth motion, he stands, lifting, then tipping you forward so your feet come down gently on the grass, helping you stand on your own.

Ugh. The muscles in your abdomen complain about the shift. “Ow.”

“You’re going to live.” 

“I know. I’m just surprised that I was able to keep my supper down.”

This makes him chuckle. “We’ll get you some ice.” But the light mood shifts when he hooks a gloved finger under your chin to bring your gaze up, and then points it in your face.  “Next time I tell you to stay, you stay.”

He’s angry, but controlled, in a way that tells you he was actually worried there for a second. But when you nod a promise back to him, he pats your cheek lightly as if to say, “Good girl. You did good. Proud of you.” 

Lanterns are being lit in the houses circling the garden. Now that the blaster fire and sounds of violence have died down, the curiosity begins. The back door to Shiari’s home opens and her father is standing there, lantern in hand.

Din tips the helmet to him. “You should call in the magistrate.”

___________________

Within an hour, you’re on your way back to the Crest. Din was able to detain all the assailants in varying degrees of consciousness--although the man in the dark cloak would most likely be out for days. The magistrate took them into custody, asked some questions, and Shiari’s family was able to pull some strings to be your proxies in the upcoming days of interrogations in order to get you on your way without too much hassle. 

Meanwhile, Nanni understood that every minute Shiari remained here she’d be in danger, and had gone around to gather up friends and neighbors. Then she woke up her granddaughter to tell her the plan had changed and they were going to say goodbye now. It was played off brilliantly as a surprise for the girl, a starlight sendoff rather than the sunrise one she’d been told, bringing her outside to a chorus of loved ones.

So now you and your partner are walking through a wide, grassy field under a million stars, at the front of a small sea of lantern- and candle-lit faces, all of them joining in some farewell of a song, something sweet and pretty, but not mournful. You can’t understand the words, but you understand the meaning--safe travels, you are loved, let your days be happy, may we meet again.

I makes your heart ache. It’s a beautiful procession. A beautiful night. And then there’s this guy beside you. This machine with a human heart. Staying close to you, swinging his arms lazily, walking along like he didn’t just rain down hell in the middle of the street. It never gets old, the way the lights play off the beskar. You hope he never decides to paint it. Blast. You’re good and smitten now, girl. “I’m surprised you don’t want to stay and see what the magistrate finds out.”

“They’re going to keep me informed, send me a holo when they have a report. But I got what I needed out of one of them. Cheap thugs. Pirate hires.”

“Pirates?”

“Looks like the Empire’s going through third-party channels to get intel and serve rewards to anyone who brings in proof or actual targets. They’re using any backwater scum to cast a wide net and do their dirty work. The girl and her powers aren’t a secret here. It was only a matter of time.”

“So anytime we get word of a contact, it’s to be assumed others know too.”

“Yep.”

“Good to know.”

He looks down at you, his gaze sending shockwaves through you. “You scared?”

And you look up at him, sending them right back. “Nope.”

When you come to the ship, Din lowers the ramp and punches a few buttons on his wrist remote to get some running lights going inside. As the group begin to crowd around Shiari to make their final farewells, her father approaches you, tears in his eyes. You think he’s coming in to shake your hand, but he embraces you. “You said you would keep her safe and you did. You are.”

Oh, this lovely heart. “I gave you my promise and we’ll do everything we can to keep it. I’ll send you a message when we’ve arrived.”

When he lets go, you’re happy to see that even if there are still tears, there’s relief now there too. He moves to the Mandalorian, clasping the hand of his daughter’s savior in both of his own. “Thank you.”

Din simply nods. It’s fascinating that nobody ever expects him to say anything back. Power of the helmet.

When all the farewells are made, Nanni hands over the sleepy initiate, kissing first the girl on both cheeks, and then you. How fast they make you into family here. “May the Force be with you.”

Shirari mumbles a small, “May the Force be with you, Nanni,” the realization of separation finally sinking in. She bears it bravely though, continuing to wave until the ramp closes.

“Well, my girl,” you tug on her hand. “You ready to see the stars?” and there’s a renewed enthusiasm as you guide her to the ladder she gets to climb, her very own jump seat, all the blinking lights and sounds, the rise to orbit, and finally the jump to hyperspace. The stars are always brilliant, and you love watching them stretch and warp as much as she does, but they’re even better reflected in her bright and shining eyes.

But it’s still the middle of the night as far as her body’s concerned, and it only takes a couple minutes of the lulling starlight to put her back in a place of drowsiness. As much as it kriffing pains your injury, you let her piggyback as you climb back down the ladder. You show her the refresher in case she needs it, bring her to the back of the hold where there are now two hammocks--one for her, one for you. You’ll be right here while she sleeps and she should wake you up if she needs anything. Shiari asks if you’ll stay until she falls asleep, and you do, telling her about all the things she’s about to see and learn.

It’s only after she’s asleep that you allow yourself to have a small, silent cry. For her, for her father, for your own parents when they had to say goodbye. It’s never hit you like this before, but then, it’s been a hell of a day.

_________________

PART 3: DIN

Din takes care of all the outgoing procedures, sets up secure communications coordinates to the magistrate’s office and Shiari’s parents, locks in all receiving frequencies. He curses. The ache in his arm is starting to get worse and he knows he can’t just put it off indefinitely. You’ve had enough time to put the girl to bed and do what you need to do, so it’s time to suck it up and go ask for help. He’s not sure why he’s hesitating--you’re a healer, this is what you do.  Maybe he’s just used to taking care of things himself. Maybe he doesn’t want to admit to you that he let himself take damage. Especially from those amateurs. 

Stop it. Just get it over with.

He throws on the auto and punches in the alert codes before heading down to the hold. 

One of the hammocks is heavy with the sleeping child, but he doesn’t see you until he turns all the way around from the ladder. He discovers you sitting on the floor, propped up against the weapons locker looking tired but happy. He jerks his thumb to the hammock, She asleep? You nod. Then he points to you, tilts the helmet to the side, What are you doing on the floor? And you laugh silently, shaking your head in embarrassment.

He squats down next to you so you can speak in hushed tones. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just a mess, that’s all. After Shiari went down, I thought I’d get some rest, but I couldn’t even manage to bend over and get my boots off, much less haul myself into the hammock. So I thought I’d come back to the cockpit, but climbing the ladder was too much and then I thought I’d just use your bunk, but I just kind of gave up and had to have a minute to feel sorry for myself and this is where I live now.”

“Are you kidding me?”

You continue to giggle softly, even though it obviously hurts. “I’ll get up in a second. I just had to have a dramatic moment.”

“Stay.” He stands, glaring down at you. “I mean it this time.”

You throw him a salute and he walks off, shaking his head but smiling anyway, digging in a compartment for a medikit and then in the cold storage for a cooler pack. 

He returns and settles on the floor next to you, placing the ice on your belly, keeping his volume down. “Hold it there. It’ll help.” He fishes in his belt for his cauterizer and hands it to you, turning so you can access his injury and pulling his cape aside. “Do you mind? One of them was a blade-thrower. Got me in the back of the arm.”

“Oh my stars, Captain. How did I not notice this??”

“You were kind of busy with other things.”

“You’re still bleeding…” Pulling yourself up straighter to take a look, you peel the ripped and bloody fabric aside. “Because of course you’ve been using the arm, of course you have. Like it’s nothing. Do you even feel pain?” He feels you push at the pauldron, trying to get more clearance. “Can this...move somehow?”

“Feel under the lip at the top. The magnetics release is a textured button flush with the beskar.”  

You slip your finger between the metal and fabric. “Well. Now I know all your secrets.” 

Heat rushes to his face as the pauldron releases. Then he feels a tug as you open up the rip in his sleeve. “Hey!” “Shhh. Sleeping kid, remember? Relax. I just need more room to see...It’s this or you take the whole kit off and I can guess what you prefer.” You make the tear a little bigger still. “Well, at least it’s a clean slice, not too deep. Lucky you, I can fix this.”

“My arm or my sleeve?”

“Both. Hush.” You hand the cauterizer back, “Won’t be needing that,” and start digging in the medikit.

“There should be one more bacta patch in there.”

“Don’t need that either. Looking for the anticeptin--ah.” He watches as you break a capsule, rubbing it over your hands, then soaking a clean pad. “Not that I imagine it will phase you, but this will sting.”

It does, but he’s had worse. Pain doesn’t interest him. He’s more concentrated on the pleasure of your hand on his bicep, steadying his arm as you work. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve sat back to back with him, there’s something different about when you lay hands on him….

“Okay...That’s good and clean, so…” And then, without warning--

Your fingers slide in through the tear in the sleeve and his chest fills air and his head fills with light as he feels your skin on his for the first time.

You cover the injury with your hand, and he watches as you take a deep breath and close your eyes. 

Warmth. 

Warmth from your fingers, warmth from you, every fiber of him is alert to this one moment, this one small fraction of his body, his whole heart is in a few inches of skin on the back of his arm and it feels so beautiful, all of it, the sting of the anticeptin, the wound closing, your warm, smooth skin against his skin...this is...this… 

...is over way too soon.

“Din.”

“Hmm.”

“That’s a little too tight.”

He looks down and realizes he’d reached out and gripped your knee. Hard.

Immediately relaxing and letting go, he apologizes under his breath. 

“Did it hurt?”

“No. You’re done?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry to inform you that you won’t have another scar to add to the collection I assume you have.” You go to work repacking the medikit.

“Thank you.” He reaches back to touch the spot, not quite believing it was that easy...although he’d seen Grogu heal a nasty laceration once, and this was nowhere near that. “That’s a handy trick. I could use it in my line of work.”

“Ha. That’s what I am. A sorcerer full of tricks.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean--”

“No. It’s oka--I know. I said it myself earlier today, remember? I use the tricks I have?”

“Well, lucky for both of us, they’re good tricks.”

You’ve settled back against the locker with the pauldron in your lap. He watches your fingers tracing the backing mechanics, admiring the workmanship. You weigh the piece in your hands. “It’s actually lighter than it looks.” He allows you to take the time to get a good look at the magnetics grid on the sleeve to understand how it works before letting it seal back in place. “What would you have done tonight? If I hadn’t tricked him.”

The guy’s lucky he’s still alive. “I wouldn’t have let him shoot you.”

“What was your plan?” He turns the visor halfway to you, not quite able to meet your eyes. “I’m just curious.”

Din cocks his wrist and blue pinpoint lights come to life on his arm. “Whistling birds. Micro targeting missile darts.”

“Stars. You’re full of surprises. Would those have killed him?”

One more flick of the wrist and the set deactivates. “Yes.” Your silence speaks for you--the gravity of knowing he’s capable of easily bringing down death is setting in. He’d rather you didn’t think of him like that. And anyway. You have your own secrets to account for. “But I didn’t have to. You took care of yourself. I didn’t know you could...control minds.”

You laugh weakly, then groan and press the cooler pack into your gut. “I wouldn’t call that mind control, especially since it only works on the dimmest stars. It’s just confusion and redirection. Like spinning someone around and sending them away from you. That’s the only time I’ve ever used it for a life-and-death situation. Mostly it’s good for getting guys to leave me alone at the cantina.”

It comes out of him before he thinks. “Don’t ever use that on me.” 

“You do not fit into the category of men I would turn away at the bar.” He throws you a look. “Seriously, Captain. I would never pull that on you. And it wouldn’t work anyway. You know about it now. And you’re too smart. I have no power over you.”

Din can think of a dozen responses to that, some of them sincere. He lets them go. He needs to know something else. Something he’s been wondering about. “Can you…” But he’s not sure he wants to ask this question, not sure where it will lead.

“What.”

“Can Jedi...read minds?”

“Not...really? Powerful ones can push their own thoughts into the minds of others, and most of us have Force empathy, but it’s a high skill. The best I can do is pick up really strong emotions, but it’s usually just a confirmation of what that person’s already showing me.”

“So you can tell what people are feeling.”

“Sometimes. Can’t you?”

“I’m not a Jedi.”

“You don’t have to be to understand what someone’s feeling. Even Jedi don’t use it all the time. In the end, most people aren’t that complicated, even if their feelings are.” Hopefully you’ll leave it at that. But you don’t. “Sometimes it’s just easier to ask.”

Well, he started the skirmish that led him to this point and you just gave him an opening. The question is, should he take it? 

He’ll probably regret it later if he doesn’t. 

“So, how are you feeling?”

He’s finally getting used to hearing your laughter as an expression of delight rather than any kind of ridicule. 

“Exhausted. A little sore. It’s okay.” 

It’s...not what he meant. But. Maybe that’s fine for now. He’s relieved to just keep the status quo. It’s working so far. “Well, keep that ice pack on and get some rest. You’ll feel better when you wake up.” He swivels to a kneel beside you, ready to help, “Let’s get you up so you can hit the rack.”

But then you come out of nowhere and quietly blindside him, stopping him by putting your hand gently on the crook of his arm. “But. If I’m answering honestly, I’m probably just as scared as you are.” 

And even without mind reading powers, he knows exactly what you mean. 

You just… went there. Just like that. 

Well, he did ask for it. 

His heart might actually pound its way through the beskar.  

There’s a soft sound from the far side of the hold, and you both turn to see if Shiari’s woken up. No. Just shifting in her hammock, muttering something about stars. 

Din lowers his voice as soft as the modulator will allow, and resumes his dangerous question from the afternoon.

“Are you challenging me?”

You obviously remember this game. “Does it feel like a challenge?” Your hand gently squeezing his arm.

“No.”

As he did in the garden just a few hours earlier, scooping you up under arm and knees, he stands and lifts you. Only this time, Din doesn’t put you on your feet. 

He gently carries you the length of the hold and carefully maneuvers you into your own hammock. 

Then, pressing your leg to his side, he works your foot out of one boot--delicately, tenderly--and sets it quietly on the floor. 

His hand slides over to the other leg and he does the same there. 

If you actually whisper a “Thank you,” or just mouth the words, he can’t tell, but it doesn’t matter. He gives one last look over your soft, sleepy smile before hitting a button on his remote to dim the lights in the hold for you. Then he heads for the cockpit, letting you get the rest you need.

________________

In the pilot’s seat, Din looks over the panel of blinking lights, realizing he really has nothing to do up here. He removes the helmet and turns it over in his hands. How many times has it covered for him when he had nothing to say? Or stood in as an intimidating glare when he’s been less than confident? He’s always been able to rely on its ambiguity before. But now...how does he make this thing reflect pride and affection?

He’s not completely sure what’s expected of him now. Or what he can expect of you. He’s never really had to navigate this kind of thing. If he’s lucky, you’ll continue to see through the visor. Continue to know how he feels. Continue to take the lead--he’s more than happy to follow you.

“If I’m answering honestly, I’m probably just as scared as you are.”

What he neglected to tell you tonight is that he was in the garden when you spoke to Shiari’s father earlier in the evening. He was doing a sweep of the area, standing just off to the side of one of the houses, and stopped to watch, hidden in the dark. 

When the man wept….when you waited for just the right time to speak….  Din had never seen it from the outside, but in that moment you soothed the guy, he knew exactly the shift you were putting the father through. You, sweeping in with your aggressive truth. Tailoring your delivery to get through the receiver’s defenses. With a touch that has the power to calm a lonely heart. It’s by far your greatest trick.

He leans back and watches the hyperspace tunnel whir by for a while until his eyes refocus on his own reflection in the viewport. He turns from one side to the other, trying to see his face through the eyes of someone else, and for the first time he wonders what another person will think of it. 

Because as of tonight, it’s no longer a question of if, but when. Eventually he’s going to have to show you. 

Creed be damned. 

This is not what he anticipated when he took this assignment.

But he’s kriffing glad he did.

________________

Artwork inspired by chapter 5 by @littlemissskuld​ 

________

Next Chapter 6: The Survivor --->

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[tatooedlaura-blog]

Dinosaurs and Cannibalism

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

“Do you know that there is a dinosaur that lives in a lake in Georgia?”

Mulder nearly dropped his cards, “Scully!”

“There is, Mulder. I did not want to tell you while we were there and once we got back, I could not tell you but right now, I am going to tell you that I think you just might have been right about that one.”

The table fell silent immediately, Charlie asking, “a dinosaur?”

“Yes. He smashed our boat to bits,” putting her cards down in lady-like fashion, she crashed her palms together, missing the first time but connecting the second, “to bits and bits and it sank and we sat on a rock and ducks scared us and Mulder said he would eat me if he had to.” Suddenly covering her mouth, of course finding contact first time out the gate and slapping herself in the process, “that sounded dirty. I did not mean eat me but eat me eat me, like gnaw on my thigh bone and hope to get rescued before he had to eat my liver which reminds me of this other …”

Mulder stopped her flailing arms vainly attempting to find the vicinity of her liver with pointed finger, then his liver with pointed finger, “Scully, Scully, shh, hey, remember, we don’t talk about things like that at the dinner table.”

“But we already ate dinner and had Dessert …. Desssert … Dessseeeerrt … Mama, do you have anymore dessert … damn it, Dessert … I made sure to caspitalize it this time.”

Mulder’s hands grabbed for her again, successfully pinning her arms to the table, light but firm, “stop waving those fingers around, you’re gonna take out Charlie’s eye or knock poor Ruth to the ground.”

Charlie, for his part in all this, was dying next to his sister. He’d never seen her drink the Punch before and the ruckus she was causing had him laughing to the point of tears, “is she always like this? She’s only had one glass. What’s she like on two?”

Seeing Scully had forgotten dinosaurs and cannibalism for the moment, he let got of her hands, handing her cards back, “no idea. I’m usually rambling on about pie, from what I hear.”

Maggie smiled and slid a glass of water in Scully’s direction, “your sister is usually fairly floppy by now but her M.O. seems to have changed since Will was born so we will just have to watch and see what happens. Meanwhile, since I’m winning, I’d like to get back to the game.”

Back to the game indeed, until 10 minutes had passed and Mulder felt something sliding under his arm. Looking down, he saw slender fingers and scarred knuckles trying to sneak cards from his hand. Whispering at her now leaning-in figure, “what are you doing?”

Whispering, not really whispering, her answer, “I need your eights and your trees, I mean threes.”

The whole table could hear her.

Mulder looked at the messy cards in her hand, “you need ones and fours.”

“I know that but I like your eights and trees better. Eights and threes are all curvy and look like snowmen but fours and ones look like knives and scalpels and sharp things and I do not like sharp things. Too many stitches and hospitals for sharp things. Pointy. Points hurt.” Pulling up her shirt suddenly to reveal a fading scar down her side, “see, Charlie, pointy things do that.”

Charlie sobered immediately, also seeing the puckered gunshot wound of one Peyton Ritter, “Day?”

Scully let her shirt drop back down, oblivious to her brother’s reaction, “snowmen are more fun than knives and definitely more fun than bullets, let me tell you … bullets move fast and they hurt, zing, burn right through you …” Looking around, she smiled, “Ma, are you sure you ran out of cake?” When no one answered, Scully swung her head around, everyone a blur until Charlie, where she stopped, discovering he wasn’t laughing anymore, “are you okay?”

“I’ve just … I’ve never seen your … gunshot … thing.”

She threw her arms around her little brother, “I am fine, Charlie Bucket, never fear. I have Mulder and Walter and Frohippy and Langley and Byers watching out for me.” Hugging him around the neck, “and if everybody else fails, still got you, right?”

He hugged her close, “yeah, Day, you’ve still got me.”

Expecting an answer, all he got was a snort and a giggle, “fails … snails … whales … bales … of hay … day … Day.” Sitting up quickly, knocking Charlie’s chin with the top of her very hard head, “Day. That is my name, ask me again and I will tell you the same.”

Her giggles got them over the awkward bullet wound, liver eating, cannibalistic, Jurassic lean the evening was taking, and making sure she quit while she was ahead, Mulder moved her punch away, far out of the reach of her once again wandering hands, “I told you, you can’t have my cards.”

“But I like yours better.”

And those damn blue eyes batted blurrily at him and without another thought, he gave her his hand, “if you lose with what I just gave you, you’re making dinner for a week.”

Attempting and failing to keep the cards between her fingers, “big ass lasagna, coming up.”

She lost.

Then fell asleep against his shoulder while they played another 20 minutes.

Getting her to the spare room and settling her in, Mulder returned to the game packing up, “hey now, don’t I at least get one round to redeem the last hand Scully massacred?”

Frohike smacked him on the arm, “next time, my friend. Langly is about to crash and Byers already called not it on carrying him inside so we either leave him here or head out now.” Raising an eyebrow, “and that puts him sharing a room with you two.”

“Goodbye, Frohippy.”

Soon, Maggie was giving Will his bottle, and sneaking him upstairs to sleep in the portable crib already conveniently set up beside her and Skinner’s bed. Allowing his child his first Grandma sleepover, he looked over at Charlie, “feel like raiding the leftovers?”

Already headed to the fridge, “way ahead of you, Mulder.” The meatballs were just as good cold and coupled with large glasses of milk, both men were settled on the porch within minutes, Charlie swallowing his mouthful before, “what’s on your mind?”

Looking at his brother-in-law, “I’m sorry for tonight. We’re usually pretty good at keeping work separate from here, but apparently the Punch got the better of your sister.”

“It’s okay, although I gotta say, it was a little unsettling to see her scars like that. I know she’s been shot but to actually see it …” he shuddered slightly then returned to his food, taking another forkful, “let’s just say, I’m going to go home and thank Sarah for having the nice, safe job she has.” When Mulder didn’t respond, “can I ask you something?”

“I can’t guarantee I can answer but I’ll try.”

“How often are you two really in danger? I mean, serious, I could very well die today danger?”

After chewing, swallowing, drinking, clearing his throat, Mulder answered, “your sister, not very often anymore but me … probably a couple times a month at least, depending on the case.”

With the frankness only a little brother could have, “then why do you still do it?”

He couldn’t come up with an answer.

&&&&&&&&

Scully woke to Maggie warming up a bottle and humming in the kitchen outside the bedroom door. Getting up, she found she was, while not hungover, incredibly thirsty. Joining her mother and son, she drank a full glass of water while running her fingers over Will’s perfect handful of scalp, downy softness beneath her palm, “how did he sleep?”

“Like a baby.” Maggie nuzzled his forehead, “he only woke up once with a wet diaper but otherwise, he let us sleep until a few minutes ago.”

“He’s a good boy like that.” Fingers leaving Will, she moved to the fridge, “I don’t have a hangover, but I’m going to eat my cold tacos anyway. Want one?”

“No, thank you. Walter will be down soon and he’ll make the oatmeal and we’ll eat then.”

Taco en route to her mouth, she stopped, “should I wait?”

Maggie eyed the congealed burrito bean paste solidified on the end of the tortilla three inches from her daughter’s face, “I’d prefer not to watch you eat that while I’m eating, thank you.”

With a grin, Scully bit down, beans and rice threatening to spill down her chin, “but it’s so good.”

“You are not my child.”

Continuing her eating, she moved to the back door, “did you know Mulder and Charlie are out here?”

“Are they in the hammock together?”

Her Mexican mouthful nearly exited her nose, “thank God, no.”

“Someone should probably go wake them up so they can get to work.”

Seeing potential in such a suggestion, she scooted outside, leaning over her brother upside-down, nose to nose, “Charlie? Charlie? Time to get up.” When he didn’t move, she said it louder, “Charlie!” then got the hell out of the way, knowing he would jump up immediately.

He did not disappoint.

He also stumbled forward after he stood and ran right into the deck railing, hanging over for a moment before, “damn it, Dana, you trying to kill me?!”

“Just scare the hell out of you. Did it work?”

He remained where he was, head hanging over, “what time is it and if it’s before 6, you’re going to suffer.”

“It’s 5:54.”

Groaning, “Good Lord, woman, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You have to go to work.”

“I’m having a meatball hangover. I can’t be expected to think today.”

Walking over to him, she tapped the back of his knees with her toe and watching him collapse to the ground, still hanging onto the railing, “you finished them?”

“Your husband helped.”

She truly enjoyed hearing him called that and smiling, “he probably had three while you scarfed the other fifteen.”

“Guilty.” Letting go of the rail, he leaned against the support, “you should scare him, too. Let him join me in my utter loathing of you at the moment.”

With a ‘pshaw’ and a ‘guffaw’ she leaned over Mulder the same way but this time, the moment she said his name, he opened his eyes and grinned, “hi there, wife.”

“Morning, husband.”

Charlie groaned, “both of you just shut it. You’re disgusting at 6am.”

“I thought we were disgusting all the time.”

Charlie simply lay down on the deck, “just let me go back to sleep in peace, would you?”

[alinaastarkov]

Are there any specific Jonrya Quotes that doesn't mean sibling love? If so which ones?

Yes! Loads! Thanks for this ask.

She [Ygritte] is no older than I am. Something about her made him think of Arya, though they looked nothing at all alike. "Will you yield?" he asked, giving the dirk a half turn. And if she doesn't? - Jon VI ACOK

I don’t know about you guys, but it’s not often I’m romantically attracted to someone who immediately reminds me of my sibling. But hey, maybe that’s just me.

Ygritte watched and said nothing. She was older than he'd thought at first, Jon realized; maybe as old as twenty, but short for her age, bandy-legged, with a round face, small hands, and a pug nose. Her shaggy mop of red hair stuck out in all directions. She looked plump as she crouched there, but most of that was layers of fur and wool and leather. Underneath all that she could be as skinny as Arya. - Jon VI ACOK

Once again, I tend not to imagine my (future) romantic partner’s naked body and think of my sibling. I’m starting to sense a pattern 🤔

"NO!" Arya and Gendry both said, at the exact same instant. Hot Pie quailed a little. Arya gave Gendry a sideways look. He said it with me, like Jon used to do, back in Winterfell. She missed Jon Snow the most of all her brothers. - Arya I ASOS

Even Arya is comparing her (future potential) love interest to Jon. It’s an epidemic!

She reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier. It was hard to tell how plump or thin Ygritte might be, with all the furs and skins she wore. - Jon II ASOS

Yet another instance of Jon thinking of Ygritte’s body beneath her clothes and thinking of Arya. Hmm, suspicious 👀

"If you kill a man, and never mean t', he's just as dead," Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? - Jon III ASOS

Kind of strange to question his relationship to Arya, especially after all of those inappropriate thoughts regarding Ygritte. And to question only Arya? Seems like someone really wishes they weren’t blood related so it wouldn’t feel wrong to think of her that way...

"It wasn't Longspear, then?" Jon was relieved. He liked Longspear, with his homely face and friendly ways. She punched him. "That's vile. Would you bed your sister?" "Longspear's not your brother." - Jon III ASOS

Real smooth, Jon. Real smooth. Notice how he totally dodges the question? How we never get an answer on if he would bed his sister? Perhaps because the answer is yes?? Notice how this sounds a lot like it might tie in to “their passion will continue to torment them until the secret of Jon’s parentage is revealed in the last book”? Very suspicious.

"He's with the Night's Watch on the Wall." Maybe I should go to the Wall instead of Riverrun. Jon wouldn't care who I killed or whether I brushed my hair . . . "Jon looks like me, even though he's bastard-born. He used to muss my hair and call me 'little sister.'" Arya missed Jon most of all. Just saying his name made her sad. - Arya VIII ASOS

“I know where we could go," Arya said. She still had one brother left. Jon will want me, even if no one else does. He'll call me "little sister" and muss my hair. - Arya XII ASOS

Maybe not explicitly romantic per se, but it is telling that she genuinely believes her own mother and brother would not want her for superficial reasons and because of the people she killed in self-defense, but her belief in Jon doesn’t waver for a single second.

Jon has a mother. Wylla, her name is Wylla. She would need to remember so she could tell him, the next time she saw him. She wondered if he would still call her "little sister." I'm not so little anymore. He'd have to call me something else. - Arya VIII ASOS

Arya’s questioning her relationship with him too?! To distance herself from him and subconsciously make it easier to deal with romantic feelings in the future?! Will it ever end?!

"It's just a sword," she said, aloud this time . . . . . . but it wasn't.  Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow's smile. He used to mess my hair and call me "little sister," she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes. - Arya II AFFC

This is so sweet and the specificity of his smile over the more general descriptions of the rest of her family mark it out as different in some way.

She had never cared if she was pretty, even when she was stupid Arya Stark. Only her father had ever called her that. Him, and Jon Snow, sometimes. Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did. To her sister and sister's friends and all the rest, she had just been Arya Horseface. But they were all dead now, even Arya, everyone but her half-brother, Jon. Some nights she heard talk of him, in the taverns and brothels of the Ragman's Harbor. The Black Bastard of the Wall, one man had called him. Even Jon would never know Blind Beth, I bet. That made her sad. - The Blind Girl ADWD

Arya loves Jon so much she wishes he could meet her alter-egos too. Ugh, the romantic angst is too much.

"He's to marry Arya Stark. My little sister." Jon could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. They would wash the one and comb the other, he did not doubt, but he could not imagine Arya in a wedding gown, nor Ramsay Bolton's bed. No matter how afraid she is, she will not show it. If he tries to lay a hand on her, she'll fight him. "Your sister," Iron Emmett said, "how old is …" By now she'd be eleven, Jon thought. Still a child. "I have no sister. Only brothers. Only you." Lady Catelyn would have rejoiced to hear those words, he knew. That did not make them easier to say. His fingers closed around the parchment. Would that they could crush Ramsay Bolton's throat as easily. - Jon VI ADWD

Once again, Jon thinks of Arya in a way that a brother really shouldn’t think of a sister. Funny how he specifically says “Ramsay Bolton’s bed”, and not just any man’s bed? Maybe because he can imagine her in someone’s (his)? Either way, weird thing to think about, Jon. And a very violent reaction to your sister’s marriage. Way more than his reaction to another sister’s marriage. Definitely intense feeling that goes beyond sibling bond.

"I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. "What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?" "Arya." His voice was hoarse. "My half-sister, truly …" - Jon VI ADWD

Need I say more?

Jon felt fifteen years old again. Little sister. - Jon IX ADWD

This is not so big in terms of non-sibling feelings but it is a very intense reaction and also I love Jon being such an emo little shit here cause... Jon, bby, you’re sixteen. Calm down.

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. "Let him be scared of me." The snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there, giving her a frosty crown. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and her eyes sparkled. "Winter's lady." Jon squeezed her hand. - Jon X ADWD

This is such a romanticised scene and the fact that it mentions Arya at the same time, and Jon’s intense feeling again, gives me pause and made me put it on this list.

It had been so long since he had last seen Arya. What would she look like now? Would he even know her? Arya Underfoot. Her face was always dirty. Would she still have that little sword he'd had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her. Wisdom for her wedding night if half of what he heard of Ramsay Snow was true. Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl. - Jon XI ADWD

Again, veeeerrry intense feelings, the mention of her wedding night again, and the fact that he once more questions his relationship with her. It’s too repetitive and obvious not to mean something.

You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … "I think we had best change the plan," Jon Snow said. - Jon XIII ADWD

So, Jon thinks of his former lover and Arya right after, repeats the phrase “I want my bride back” specifically in reference to Arya, and imo “bride” is not what you call someone you have only platonic/ familial feelings for. That would be very weird. Then he abandons all his vows, something he had the opportunity to do and didn’t at least 3 separate times, for and only for Arya, and if that ain’t just the most romantic shit you ever heard. And then of course he literally dies with her as his last thought. Romantic. As. Fuck!

There is more than this, but you asked for things that don’t also mean sibling love, so here you go! 🤗

[itsinmydunah]

Title: New Experienes

Rated: G

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender (ATLA)

Pairing: Mai/Zuko/Sokka

Summary: It was an odd sort of relationship. Mai had Zuko. Sokka had Zuko, too. And Zuko had the both of them to himself. Things begin to shift.

A/N: I’m really bad at titles, I apologize. This was fun to write. Obviously the Avatar Renaissance hit me hard, haha. There may be an explicit follow up, not 100% sure. Crossposted on ao3.

—————————-

“Lady Mai, Ambassador Sokka has returned.” Mai looks up from the scroll she was reading to see the Water Tribe man standing tall beside an attendant. He grins widely, waving.

“Safe travels?” She enquires, gesturing for him to join her. The library is one of her favorite areas because of the quiet and the many comfortable areas to lounge. Sokka shrugs off his outer travel cloak and sits.

“Yeah, everything went surprisingly well. How was he?”

The he Sokka refers to is their boyfriend, Zuko.

It was an odd sort of relationship. Mai had Zuko. Sokka had Zuko, too. And Zuko had the both of them to himself.

They both love Zuko a whole lot. Mai, being raised by a mother who cared deeply about what others thought, knew how to be cordial to her lover’s lover. She sometimes found his humor childish and his laughter braying, but she knew he adored Zuko. The smile that lit her boyfriend’s face while Sokka was around made it all worth it. And she was sure that there were qualities she had that Sokka found to be unattractive or irritating. People often accused her of being cold and unfeeling. That surely went against the Water Tribe man’s demonstrative nature.

But the point was, they got along. He was good with strategizing and innovation. He could pull absurd plans out of nowhere. He supported Zuko’s political decisions and offered alternatives where he saw a need for an outside perspective.

“He’s been stressed. The plans for the orphanage and new Earth Kingdom annex has had him busy. I’ve gotten him to get a full night’s sleep maybe three nights at most.” Mai huffs and Sokka rolls his eyes.

“The orphanage is a done deal. The other Nations are on board and very happy that the Fire Nation is funding it. As for the annex, Mayor Ping is competent and ready to take charge. He has nothing to worry about.”

Mai nods in agreement. “I reminded him of those things, but of course he’s concerned still. He’ll be happy you’re back, though.” Sokka gives her a toothy grin before saying:

“Oh, I thought you might like these! I picked them up while I was in the new merchant center in the Southern Water Tribe. They’re weighted well and seriously sharp. You can inflict a whole lotta damage with these bad boys.” He stands and hands her a perfectly wrapped bundle. She rises and takes it hesitantly.

Mai, raised rich, was accustomed to getting gifts. But those were empty gifts. Something like this held meaning and sentiment. And it was something that she actually enjoyed. It wasn’t jewelry like her mother would discourteously throw upon her. No, Sokka gave her throwing knives handcrafted in the Southern Water Tribe from saber-seal tusks. He knew enough about her to know that she took joy in trying new knives and adding them to her collection. He knew she liked to be deadly, just as he did, but in a different manner.

“Thank you,” she says, trying not to sound too surprised. The knives are beautiful, and as she held one she deduces that Sokka is correct - they are gorgeously balanced. They will be a delight to throw and wear.

“I know white doesn’t really go with your whole aesthetic, but they sure are pointy.” Sokka was grinning widely, downplaying his thoughtfulness. He reaches out to tug on a lock of her hair in absentminded affection, and her breath catches. His blue eyes widen when he realizes his actions.

They may share a lover, but they don’t really touch each other.

The stilted silence is broken by Zuko strutting in wearing full Fire Lord regalia. His eyes go soft at the sight of his two favorite people. One hand rests on the back of Mai’s neck as he leans into Sokka for a kiss.

“Missed you,” Zuko murmurs. He can be obscenely soppy, a quality that Sokka feeds into with his big-hearted disposition. It’s part of why Mai is grateful for him. She wasn’t raised to be warm and huggy so it can be hard for her to offer those things to Zuko sometimes. She's growing and learning, however.

Zuko settles into her side as close as he can with his pointy pauldron in the way. Sokka’s hand is held tightly in one of Zuko’s, and Mai relishes the rare moment of peace.

“I’m done for the day. We should go for a picnic.” Zuko is looking right at Sokka when he says this, and Mai starts to disentangle herself from Zuko’s hold. She knows how much her boyfriend missed the other man. But Zuko merely looks at her in confusion. “No, I mean all of us,” his gaze darts from blue to gold eyes, “if that’s okay, that is.”

Mai and Sokka share a look. Is that okay?

Usually when Sokka and Zuko have been apart for an extended period of time their reunion is loud, naked, and passionate. Mai always likes to give them their space so they can reacquaint.

“It’s fine by me,” Sokka offers, his eyes fixed on hers.

“Me, too. I can test out the gift you brought me.” Zuko’s eyes fall onto the knives bundled in grey seal-leather that Mai is holding. He grins, nuzzling his nose into Mai’s neck. She rolls her eyes and barely keeps from swatting at him. His simple joy at their presence always makes her happy also.

——

They end up in the royal garden, in front of a pond that Mai remembers playing in with Azula as children. There are baby turtleducks quacking and splashing. Zuko, as rapt by their presence as ever, is feeding them small bites of bread. Mai and Sokka look on, glad that their boyfriend is relaxing for once. Zuko takes his role as Fire Lord seriously and carries the responsibilities on strong, often-tense shoulders.

Sokka tucks in to the meal with his normal gusto. He has often said that aside from Southern Water Tribe comfort foods, Fire Nation food is his favorite. Zuko always spoils him with whatever cuisine he wants. It’s one of the many ways he looks after his lovers.

As the boys finish eating, Mai starts practicing with her new knives. Sokka was correct in his assessment that they were ‘pointy’. They slice through the air beautifully with sure aim. The solid thunk when they make contact with a tree trunk is satisfying. She feels the familiar rush at her own accuracy and skill. She may not be a bender, but she is formidable. She can protect herself and those she loves. It’s a nice feeling.

“The first time I saw you, you scared the daylights out of me with your precision.” Sokka admits suddenly. Mai stops her throwing to look over at him. He’s sitting against a tree, Zuko propped into his side. The Fire Lord has shed his formal outer robes and looks comfortable.

Mai quirks a smile. “Good. That was the point, after all.”

Sokka laughs. “It still kind of scares me sometimes.” He confesses, fingers tangling into Zuko’s hair. Her boyfriend smiles, knowing how much it pleases her to be deadly. “But it also sorta turns me on?” His tone is introspective. Mai snorts indelicately.

Zuko snickers, nosing at Sokka’s neck. “It really is kind of hot...” he agrees.

“You’re both strange men,” Mai says, unsheathing a small whetstone from a holster by her elbow as she delicately folds to sit beside them. Zuko immediately reaches for her. He hands her a knife to sharpen. She accepts it with a small smile, her fingers brushing his. His skin is as warm as ever. Zuko presses a kiss to her forehead and she bites back a comment about his sappiness. She truly does enjoy when he is so happy and free with his affection like this.

Mai continues sharpening her new toys mechanically. She’s always appreciated having something to do with her hands, and this task is one of her favorites. She’s so engrossed that she doesn’t even notice right away that another hand is on her, stroking her hair. She has it in a fairly casual style so it’s easier to touch than usual.

“So shiny,” Sokka murmurs dreamily. Mai huffs a laugh and lets him continue toying with her hair. She’s not accustomed to having this level of relaxed intimacy with anyone other than Zuko. It’s kind of nice, actually. She tries not to be too surprised by that.

A gentle hand guides her face away from her task. Mai quirks a brow at the quizzical Water Tribe man before her. His fingers are tender which is at odds with the numerous callouses he has. His pointer finger trails over her lips and she blinks. She can feel Zuko’s arm tighten around her.

“Can I?” Sokka asks, eyes glued on hers. She never really noticed how damnably blue they are. Bright colors aren’t her favorite, but she sort of likes the shade of his.

Mai licks her lips, smiling internally when she watches his gaze track her action. “Can you what?” She knows what he wants, of course. It’s fun to toy with him.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Hmmm. I’m not opposed.” Sokka rolls his eyes at her sanctimonious tone and leans in. He doesn’t go right for it as Mai expected. No, instead he ghosts his breath over her lips. His nose brushes her lightly, and she tries not to just close the gap. It’s interesting to do this, to have a first kiss with someone. She and Zuko kiss all the time. She’s by no means bored of him, but this - Sokka - is exciting.

His thumb brushes her jawline as his other hand tangles gently in the hair at the back of her neck. Sokka’s palms are large enough that they hold her head easily. Mai tries not to shiver at the build up. She’s never been known for her patience, but this is delicious. When their lips finally touch, it’s feather-light. Mai can’t stop herself from leaning further into it. She can feel Sokka smile against her. She nips at his full lower lip in retaliation. In the back of her mind she registers the sound of quiet, delighted sigh from Zuko.

Her attention, however, is mostly on the languid kisses Sokka keeps bestowing upon her. He’s so different in style than she’s accustomed to in a lovely way. Zuko always submits to her assertive attitude with great delight. It’s nice to have someone who admires her strength so blatantly still treat her like a women.

It’s after long moments trading surprisingly soft kisses that they part. Mai licks her lips and tastes the spicy chili from Sokka’s lunch. She doesn’t mind that one bit. “Mmm, that bears repeating.”

The darker man grins, his thumb stroking her chin. “I’m glad you think so.”

A movement from Zuko breaks their introspective moment. He’s grinning and leaning back against an ancient tree trunk. That’s when Mai notices that she’s now straddling Sokka, her knives and whetstone cast aside. She had been so caught up in the kisses that she’s not 100% sure how she ended up like this. Again, she doesn’t mind.

“And I’m glad I was here to watch that.” Zuko seems almost giddy in his enjoyment of the show he just received. Mai rolls her eyes and motions for Zuko to come closer. His lips meet hers enthusiastically, his long fingers entangling with hers. “I’m really lucky to have you both,” he murmurs, his eyes darting to Sokka and back to Mai. Sokka leans in to kiss the other man’s temple and push back his wayward hairs.

“We’re lucky to have you, too.”

[unrestedjade]

Mermay Kuwameshi nonsense

Damn, the month’s half over already! I’m rereading Pet Shop of Horrors, rewatching Yu Yu Hakusho, and coincidentally obsessed with Kuwabara/Urameshi. So! Half-assed crossover time. Maybe Count D has a second location in Japan?

 Kazuma wasn't sure how long the pet shop had been there on the edge of Chinatown. It looked like it had been in that storefront for years, but he couldn't remember seeing it until a few months ago. Maybe he'd just missed it, but he didn't think so. He liked animals. If the place had been there the whole time, he'd have gone inside at least once, just to check it out.

He also wasn't sure why he hadn't checked it out. He tended to pick up his pace when he passed by, trying to put space between himself and the shop for no reason his rational mind could come up with. It was just a pet shop. Yet for some reason it hit him the wrong way, sending a cold shiver up his spine whenever he neared it.

Today he was feeling it again, the unpleasant tickle crawling through his nervous system urging him to go, walk faster, get away. It was getting irritating, to tell the truth. Was it haunted, or something? A haunted pet shop? That could be a thing, right?

Regardless, Kazuma wasn't about to have his rep endangered by a place that sold goldfish and bunnies. Today he was gonna go in there. He'd settle these creepy-crawlies once and for all, and get his walk home from school back to normal.

Yep. He was gonna walk inside in just a minute. Just a few seconds. Gonna walk right in!

Boy, it was darker in there than a pet shop really should be, wasn't it?

Growling at himself in annoyance, Kazuma forced himself to step forward. It was just a pet shop, for god's sake.

It was dark inside, for sure. Heavy curtains draped over the windows and walls cut not just the light from outside, but the noise, too. Kazuma could hear the sounds of traffic and activity outside, but it seemed so far away, like the inside of the shop was in its own little world. Weak lamplight played across the deep red drapery, the corners of the room vanishing into shadow.

The shop had all the expected stuff. Bird cages with canaries and parakeets. Cages for the rabbits and puppies and...ferrets? Did pet shops have ferrets? This one did, apparently. What was weird was the rest of the furnishings. Aside from the animal cages, there was a kind of seating area-- a sofa, a couple chairs, a fancy coffee table. The place looked more like a fortune teller's place, or a brothel out of one of his sister's romance novels that he definitely didn't sneak to read and then skip over half the pages because he got too embarrassed. Covering the smell of animals was the heavy scent of incense.

There was no sign of the shopkeeper that Kazuma could see. Was this place actually open?

A hallway led farther back. Way farther back, with fancy, painted doors leading off to the left and right every few meters. The place was a lot bigger than it looked from the front. Kazuma called out a tentative hello, in case someone mistook him for a thief, or something. God, he hoped this place wasn't actually a front for a brothel, or he'd be so mortified he might die on the spot.

Someone answered him. "Hello?"

Kazuma jumped at the sound of a male voice, and felt immediately foolish. Of course someone else was in here! The door was open, wasn't it? Following the voice, Kazuma found himself in a side room filled with fish tanks on heavy iron racks. Though he'd sworn he heard someone speak, there didn't appear to be anyone in here. Just the tanks.

There was no lighting in the room other than the lamps on the fish tank hoods. They cast greenish, shifting light across the floor, the ceiling, and Kazuma himself. The light flickered, making the whole room look as though it were submerged underwater. Most of the tanks were occupied. A few contained what looked like koi, others held angelfish, guppies, or fighting fish. A few others held fish Kazuma couldn't identify other than they were ugly and off-putting, with mouths crammed too full of teeth and oily black scales. Some fish seemed to change somehow when he looked away from them, shifting and melting at the corner of his eye.

There was one enormous tank running the length of one wall. The glass was overgrown with algae, shading the water emerald green. Something moved inside. Something big, pacing the length of the tank back and forth. Was it a shark? It seemed large enough-- a little longer than Kazuma was tall.

"Who are you?"

There was the voice again! Kazuma looked for the speaker, and nearly leaped out of his skin when a guy popped his head over the side of the enormous tank.

"Wh-what are you doing in there?" It was a stupid question, maybe. But what else were you supposed to say to a guy who suddenly yelled at you from a fish tank?

The guy pushed a mess of dark, wet hair from his eyes. He looked about Kazuma's age. A part-timer? "What are you doing in here, stupid?"

Kazuma's temper flared, but the question was a fair one. He was the one who'd decided to poke around. "No one was out front, so I thought I'd look around." Maybe this was a back room only employees were supposed to be in, but it wasn't Kazuma's fault that this shop was run so sloppy. There wasn't even a sign posted. If the place was open, then the shopkeeper should be where customers could see them!

"Heh." The guy leaned his bare arms on the rim of the tank. Scum from the tank stuck to his forearm. It looked like it was a real mess in there. "Not much to see, is there? This place sucks."

"It kinda does," Kazuma agreed. He ventured a little closer, looking for the shape of the huge fish through the murky glass and not finding it. Wasn't this guy worried about it biting him? "What are you doing in there, cleaning? It looks like shit."

The guy laughed. "Tell me about it! Nah," he said, grinning. His teeth looked weird, like they were sharper than they ought to be. Or probably they were just crooked. "If the owner wants it clean, he can do it himself. Not like I'm getting paid to be a maid."

Okay, now Kazuma was really confused. Did the guy work here or not? If not, what the hell was he doing splashing around in a fish tank?

"You here to buy something?" The guy's smile wilted, like it wasn't an expression he was real used to making and he couldn't keep it up long.

Kazuma shook his head. "Just curious," he said. He didn't mention the creepy feeling he got every time he walked by this place. Or the fact that the tickle up his spine hadn't gone away yet. If anything, it was getting stronger, harder to brush aside.

The guy seemed to perk up a little at that, which was weird if he was an employee after all. Shouldn't he want Kazuma to buy something?

"What's the weather like today?"

Kazuma blinked. That was a weird question. "Uh...sunny? Why don't you go outside and look?"

"Can't," the guy said simply, leaning his chin on his arms.

"Your boss that much of a slave driver?" Kazuma asked, frowning. "Won't let you walk outside for a minute? There aren't even any customers in here right now."

The guy smiled again, briefly, and his teeth definitely weren't normal. Kazuma stared without meaning to. Had he filed them down? Why were they...pointy?

"Hey," the guy said. "What's your name?"

"Kazuma Kuwabara," Kazuma said. "Do you go to school here? I haven't seen you around before."

"Nope," the guy said, shaking his head. His wet hair sloshed along the surface of the water. It was really long, for a guy. Or a girl, for that matter. "Name's Yusuke. You got somewhere to be, Kazuma Kuwabara, or can you stick around for a few? I'm bored as shit in here."

Kazuma had homework to do, in fact, but it wasn't like that had ever been a pressing concern. It wasn't every day he met someone new, much less someone who seemed kinda cool. Sarayashiki wasn't a school people wanted to transfer their kids into. "I guess," he said, still looking out for any sign of that big fish. Had it hidden somewhere in the tank?

"You scared of water, or something? You don't gotta stand all the way over there," Yusuke said, chuckling. There was a swishing sound, like he was kicking his legs under the water.

Kazuma wasn't scared of water. He just had a weird feeling about the fish in that tank, that was all. Still, it wasn't like it was gonna launch itself over the side at him, right? This wasn't a Jaws movie. If Yusuke was safe where he was, Kazuma could get closer. So he did, moving to lean on the glass. The tank came up to his chest, and the glass was seriously thick, almost the width of his palm. It must have weighed a ton. He peered into the water, but it was just more murky green. He could make out what he thought might be sea grass or something, and a few chunks of driftwood for decoration, but no fish.

"What are you looking for?"

"There's a big fish in here, so..." Kazuma trailed off, finally taking a look at Yusuke up close. His teeth really were sharp, it wasn't a trick of the light. Serrated, like steak knives. The dim, shifting light from the tank lamps glinted too well off slimy skin, and with his arms raised Kazuma could see three long gashes following the curve of his ribs. They weren't bleeding, just flexing in time with his breaths. His long hair fanned out behind him in the water. Beneath the surface, where Yusuke's body was shrouded in murky green, a massive tail swayed lazily back and forth.

Yusuke watched Kazuma's eyes widen, smirking. "Find that fish yet?" A tail fin as wide as Yusuke's shoulders gently broke the surface of the water, gray and sleek. Softly, it slapped back down, splashing some water on Kazuma's uniform jacket.

Kazuma could give a shit about the jacket right now. "Um," he said, blinking while his brain tried frantically to catch up with his eyes. "Are you...a mermaid?" It felt stupid to say it out loud.

He felt even stupider when Yusuke burst into loud laughter. "What? I'm not a mermaid, you idiot!"

Kazuma could feel his face redden. Great. He'd met this guy all of five minutes ago and he was never gonna live this down. He knew he'd never let it go if someone said something off-the-wall crazy like that to him. Mermaid? If he was lucky, Yusuke would just assume he was drunk and not terminally stupid.

After a minute, Yusuke got a hold of himself, reaching up to dab tears from the corners of his eyes. "I'm a merman. Genius."

"Whatever, I was just joking anyw- wait, what?"

Yusuke pushed back a little from the glass, pointing one clawed finger at his own chest. "You see any boobs? I'm a guy."

Kazuma sputtered. "I know you're a guy, stupid!" Alright, he was gonna wake up in the middle of math class any second now. This shit had officially gotten too weird to be real. 

"Seemed pretty confused to me," Yusuke said, with a smirk and a shrug.

"Are you really half fish under there?" Kazuma didn't have space in his brain to get too mad about accusations of being dumb right now. He was too transfixed by the dark shape of Yusuke's tail moving under the water. Was it a trick? A...a costume, or something? They had to do that for mermaids in movies, right? There was no way it was real. Even if Kazuma's Bizarre Crap Warning Tickle was now a full-body shiver.

"I'm all me, not half fish. But whatever." Yusuke shifted his grip on the rim of the tank, pulling himself closer to Kazuma. "You want a better look?"

Kazuma nodded brainlessly, and had a half second of utter confusion as Yusuke gripped his shoulders. Then he was pulled forward, down into the water, a cold shock slapping him in the face and a moment of vertigo as his feet left the floor.

It didn't occur to him to hold his breath. In unconscious panic, he tried to take a breath, choking on cold water instead. Yusuke floated just below him, his laugh ringing through the tank, surrounding Kazuma in mocking sound. Sure enough, tan skin gave way to two-tone gray just below his waist, a large tail bumping against Kazuma's thrashing legs. It looked pretty damn real from here.

Yusuke's grip on Kazuma kept him from reaching the surface, only a few inches overhead but still too far. Panicked from lack of air, Kazuma lashed out, landing an awkward punch square on Yusuke's nose. The merman's head snapped back, his hair tracing the arc of his movement, but he didn't let go.

"Aw, quit freaking out, will ya?" Yusuke's voice filled the tank as he shook his head to clear it. A trickle of blood drifted from his nostril to dissipate in the water. "Thought you said you weren't scared?" He pulled Kazuma closer, like he was gonna take a chomp out of him. Kazuma froze, bracing for teeth, but Yusuke only pressed their lips together.

Kazuma knew he wasn't getting any air, but at once the water stopped burning in his lungs. He could breathe, somehow. Which was a lot to process on top of his first kiss and also maybe drowning, and also this guy was a goddamn mermaid. Too close to focus on properly, Yusuke's eyes glittered with mischief.

A hand grabbed the back of Kazuma's collar. He was hauled from the water, coughing and sputtering. He dragged air back into his lungs, though it almost felt too harsh. Too dry. The man who'd saved him helped him clamber over the rim of the tank to collapse to his hands and knees on the floor.

"I'm sorry," the man said, voice smooth and lilting as Kazuma heaved up more tank water. "You'll need to stay well back from the displays. Some of the animals are dangerous."

Water streaming from his hair and every stitch of his clothing, Kazuma blinked up at his rescuer. The shop owner was a tall Chinese guy, dressed in fancy silk robes and wearing...was that red lipstick?

"Did you have an appointment?" the owner said, polite and distant, like he hadn't just saved Kazuma from drowning or getting eaten or whatever had been going on. Casually, he flicked water from the sleeve of his robe and pushed a lock of his straight, black hair behind one ear with manicured nails. "I'm afraid you'll have to come back another time if not. I'm quite busy at the moment."

"It's your own fault for leaving me stuck in here with nothing to do," Yusuke chimed in, looking at Kazuma over the edge of the tank once more. He smiled like he'd just gotten away with something, or like he'd just told a real groaner of a joke. Kazuma stared back at him, unsure how to feel. 

The owner shot Yusuke an exasperated look that seemed to say 'I'll deal with you later.' His eyes were different colors, one dark and one light. Kazuma had been too surprised by the lipstick to notice at first. The guy was like a creepy, pet-shop-owning David Bowie. His presence filled the room. With slight surprise (because most of his sense of surprise had already been taken up by Yusuke) Kazuma realized he was kinda scared of this guy.

"How come," Kazuma rasped, throat aching. "How come you got a mermaid in a damn pet shop?"

The owner turned his attention back to Kazuma, frowning down at him. "That's a very rare and very aggressive species of shark from the Japan Sea. You shouldn't have approached the tank so carelessly."

Knees shaking, Kazuma pushed himself to his feet. "Bullshit," he said, wringing out his jacket. "I may not be the smartest guy around, but I know that's not a fish. Fish ain't people. That's a damn mermaid."

"It's merman," Yusuke grumbled. "Dumbass. Get it right." He was still staring at Kazuma as if he were the only thing worth worrying about in the whole room. It was a little intense, but Kazuma found himself staring right back. Now that he wasn't under the water, he wasn't scared anymore. Not that he'd been that scared! It was surprising, that was all! Anyone would have been just as put off as he was!

The owner took a small step back, putting distance between the spreading puddle of dirty water and what looked like very expensive shoes. "I see." He studied Yusuke for a moment, thoughtful. "Have you ever kept saltwater species before, young man?" he said, addressing Kazuma. "The initial setup can be somewhat onerous, but it's quite rewarding. Many people find that watching fish swim helps alleviate stress."

True enough, Kazuma hadn't been stressed about school or anything else when he'd been pulled into the tank, except for getting eaten or drowned. Real soothing. More importantly... "You're trying to sell him?"

"This is a pet shop," the man said, as though Kazuma were five years old and also incredibly slow. "The shark seems to have taken a liking to you, or there wouldn't have been much left of you for me to pull from the water. What do you say?" He stroked his chin, completely at ease with this insane situation. "We can discuss a fair price, along with a care guide and contract you'll need to abide by, of course."

For some reason, the idea of someone buying Yusuke outright was even more unbelievable than the whole being-a-mermaid thing. "You can't just sell him! He's a person!"

Yusuke leaned out over the edge of the tank, a curtain of black hair dripping onto the floor. "Aw, c'mon! Don't be a cheapskate! Just get me outta here before I go outta my mind. It's boring!" He was leaning so far out, one hand clutching the edge of the tank while the other reached to tug on Kazuma's sleeve. His gills were already starting to wheeze awkwardly in the dry air.

"And what am I supposed to do?" Kazuma shot back. "Carry you home and hide you in the bathtub? You're huge, man!" It was stupid anyway. Even if Kazuma had a whole swimming pool at home, it wasn't right to keep Yusuke locked up like that. If mermaids were real-- which apparently they were, and Kazuma wasn't going to be over that for a long time-- then they should be in the ocean, right? Of course Yusuke was miserable in this stupid little tank in a room with no windows, and no one to talk to! He wasn't some goldfish, or something!

The man smiled, small but genuine. He turned to Yusuke, gently shoving him back to the water when it looked like he was about to overbalance and fall from the tank. "It seems your mind is set on this one?"

"Yeah, this guy's an idiot, but he's alright." Sulking, Yusuke lowered himself in the water, wetting his gills. "Anybody else you shove at me is getting eaten, got that?"

"And just like that," the man said, with a helpless gesture, "the decision is made for me. As you can see, this particular specimen is something of a liability, so I'm willing to offer you a favorable deal to take it off my hands."

Kazuma had just about enough money in his wallet for a sandwich from the convenience store. He knew he wasn't gonna be able to cough up the cash to get Yusuke out of here. Still, he couldn't walk away. Yusuke's eyes were burning a hole through him.

"It's gonna have to be a hell of a deal, mister," Kazuma said, finally dragging his eyes from Yusuke to look at the shop owner. "I don't even have a job, and I'm pretty broke."

The shop owner only smiled. "I'm sure we can reach an agreement."

[xxbyimm]

The brave and little lion

This a diamond in the rough, but I still hope you like it. xo

The brave and little lion

Summary: Fíli tells the tale of his first dagger.

Tags: @theincaprincess @fizzyxcustard @soradragon @deepestfirefun and @legolaslovely @yes-captainstark @burningcoffeetimetravel Let me know if you want to be added to or removed from my taglist!

Warnings: Protective Fíli. Mild violence.

A full moon shone on the hastily set up camp, the distant light illuminating the unlikely group of dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard gathered around a fire. Although the crickets were chirping loudly and leaves rustled as a light breeze of wind passed through, it was a quiet night. Everyone was fast asleep. The only sounds within their settlement were the crackling flames and the occasional snore. 

The eldest prince of Durin’s folk was the only one awake, for had taken the first watch. Settled in front of the fire, he drained the last of his ale that Bombur had provided him with. He stretched his back and went back to watching his comrades. It had been a long and tiring day. When uncle Thorin finally had ordered them to set up camp, everyone had breathed a sigh of relief and quickly started executing his demands before the king could change his mind.

Speaking of which… Even uncle, the seasoned warrior who usually remained in a semi-vigilant state whether someone else had watch duty or not, seemed to be sleeping soundly. Fíli smiled softly. Although uncle wasn’t that vocal about his emotions, the prince knew the brother of his mother was proud of the dwarf he had become, and he trusted his nephew with his life. The fact that he let his guard down, was speaking volumes.

Fíli reached for a freshly cut log and just bent forward to put it into the fire, when a sharp, tearing pain hit him in his lower abdomen. A low his escaped him. His instinct took over and he jumped to his feet, while drawing the first dagger he could get his hands on.

All was quiet.

Fíli scanned his surroundings and crept towards the edge of the camp. Everything remained silent. When he finally was absolutely sure there was no luring threat, he sat down near the fire again. For a moment there, he had expected to find an arrow or knife sticking out of his gut, but his clothing was still intact.

What the…  

Did he just make a rookie mistake? The prince reached in his coat, in search of the culprit. All the knives he had on him seemed to be in place, except for… He smirked when he discovered the tiny pointy blade that up until recently had been safely tucked away in the seam of his coat under the belt. His fingers working carefully not to tear the hole it had made any further, he retrieved it from its’ hiding place.

Lesson number one for warriors: make sure any lethal weapons you carry on you, are safely wrapped up for transport. He thought he had been careful, that his safety knife wasn’t that dangerous, but there he was, being stabbed by his own dagger.

He smiled and watched the blade as it lay in his hand. This was the first knife he ever owned and it meant a great deal to him. But he must have been about eleven  (or twelve, tops) when he finally learned about its’ special origin. He remembered it like it was yesterday…

 It was a typical summer afternoon in the Blue Mountains. The sun stood high in the sky, burning on the backs of the villagers who were venturing outdoors. The wind had been surprisingly gentle today, which led to an unpleasant, humid atmosphere in town. Nevertheless, it was market day and despite of the warm weather, life went its’ usual course. The community was bustling with merchants selling wares from their stalls, the bleating of unwilling livestock and the lively chatter from the dwarrowdams who had come to buy necessities.

The only difference was the absence of the village kids. Usually they were out and about, exploring the market, but today most of the little dwarflings in the village had set out to the river, in an attempt to find some cooling. Most the time the group of kids were led by two mischievous princes, but today both of them were clearly absent.

Little Fíli had been sent on a mission by his mother. It was a very important one, and he was determined to carry it out as soon as possible.

You see, it might have been a hot summer day, it also happened to be bath day. Kíli hated bathing almost as much as he hated girls, and that said something. The little rascal had run off as soon as he saw his mother preparing the tub, and now Amad couldn’t find him anywhere.

‘Can you tell me where your brother is hiding, Fíli?’ she had pleaded to her eldest son. ‘Uncle Thorin is coming to dinner tonight and I don’t want his nephews to look like two little orcs.’

At first, the little golden lion had been torn between his mother and brother. He really didn’t want to disobey Amad, but betraying his brother by telling her his hiding place almost seemed worse. After a short contemplation, Fíli had told his mother that although he couldn’t provide her with an answer, he would try his best to retrieve Kíli for her. His mother had smiled and promised that she would ask uncle to tell one of his exciting war tales tonight, and eventually, that was what had persuaded the prince of Durin’s folk on his chase. Amad did not allow her brother to indulge her offspring with vicious stories too much, but when she did…

Once Fíli had left behind the outskirts of town and neared the waterfall, he stopped running to catch his breath. He leaned against the stone and closed his eyes, like he always did. His father had shown him this hiding place long ago, when Kíli had been nothing more than a little babe. Víli had told his eldest son about the horrific tales of the waterfall that swirled around the village, and how those rumors were just that. There were no fairies, no evil little goblins that lived under the surface. All those stories, Víli had said, were made up by a simple man who wanted a quiet place for himself to reflect on life. That man happened to be Víli’s grandfather.

When Víli died a few years ago, Fíli felt obligated to keep up the family tradition and tell his brother about the place. After that, they used it as their secret hideout, a place to play when they wanted to be alone. But of course it was more than that. It was the last tie to their father, the last thing they had left of him. This place was sacred.

Fíli was about to enter the cave when he heard it. He prickled his ears. It were no more than echoes, but it was there. Voices… Had Kíli brought friends to their secret lair?

The prince frowned and disappeared behind the stream. He hopped through the small cleft and took a right turn, which gave him access to the largest area.

His brother was huddled away in the farthest corner, trembling like a leaf. One of the town’s bullies, an oafish darkhaired troll called Yanmoth from the Hardgrip family, was towering over him. Yanmoth was known for chasing the little ones through the village, and scaring them to death with his ugly demeanor. The golden prince clenched his jaw and stepped through the room.

‘Stay away from him.’ He growled softly while balling his hands into fists. The Hardgrip kid quickly turned and laughed when he discovered who was challenging him. ‘So, here we have the other favored prince!’ ‘What has my brother done to you for you to be this mean?’ Fíli challenged the boy.   The kid shrugged. ‘Nothing. He’s just such a crybaby, aren’t you little Kíli? ‘He followed me.’ Kíli muttered angrily. ‘And then he found our knife and he-’ 

Fíli bared his teeth when he discovered the blade that was lying in the Hardgrip kid’s hand. It was a beautiful design, with a roaring lion carved into the handle. The brothers had found it the first day they had entered the cave alone, and it had remained there as their little secret. That someone just discovered the cave was one thing, but he wasn’t about to give it up their most prized possession.

‘That’s ours.’ He said haughtily. ‘Give it back.’ ‘Finders keep it.’ The boy replied solemnly. ‘I could come in handy. It’s still sharp…’

 Kíli started crying and it was then that the golden prince discovered the red streak in his brothers face. His stomach turned. This bully had been hurting his brother and Fíli hadn’t been there to protect him.

‘You hurt him.’ He hissed angrily. ‘You had no right.’ ‘Oh, I’m so sorry my prince.’ Yanmoth mocked while swinging the knife in front of the prince’s eyes. ‘Mind if I do it again?!’ ‘Get your STICKY PAWS OFF MY BROTHER!’ The little golden lion roared. 

He leapt forward and crashed against the kid, causing them both to fall over. Fíli snatched the knife from the burly hands and threw it across the room. Uncle had once taught him not to bring weapons to a fistfight, so with that rule still ringing in his ears he landed his fist on the kid’s jaw. Then another one punch went into the stomach. Although the boy fought back, Fíli quickly discovered that Yanmoth might come across as big and intimidating, he so far had little experience in real combat. The prince easily best him and although there were a few close calls, he managed to wriggle himself out anyway. Then Kíli threw himself into the struggle, pulling on the kid’s long, dark hairs and shrieking: ‘LET. MY. BROTHER. GO!’

‘STOP! STOP!’ Yanmoth cried out and Fíli reluctantly let him go, urging his brother to do the same.

Rule number two in combat. Never lose your mind.

The kid scrambled himself together and the princes watched him running towards the entrance.

‘Who’s the crybaby now?!’ the prince yelled after the fleeing boy. ‘Don’t you ever come back!!!!!’ Kíli screamed. 

They listened as the sound of sobbing diminished, until only the vague echoes remained.

‘Kíli, we have to go.’ The golden lion finally nudged and he held out his hand. ‘Amad has been searching for you for hours.’ ‘I can’t.’ his little brother protested, tears streaming from his dark eyes. ‘I can’t go home!’ ‘Why not?’ Fíli asked while walking across the space to retrieve the dagger. ‘Because I wt m pts…’ murmured the youngest prince of Durin, deliberately swallowing half of the words. ‘What now?’ Fíli demanded. ‘Because I wet my pants…!’   The golden lion grinned, understanding the shame his brother must feel, but it was too funny to let the moment pass without notion. ‘Well..’ he sniggered. ‘Lucky for you, it’s bath day anyway…’

 ‘So… Your mother told me you’ve been very brave today.’ Uncle Thorin spoke as he tucked in his nephew into bed. ‘What happened?’ 

Little Fíli told him all about how he had saved Kíli from that mean bully. And because uncle Thorin was a good listener, the golden lion totally forgot to lie about the origins of the knife, that it was actually already in the cave rather than in Yanmoth’s possession. He then explained how he had disarmed the Hardgrip’s kid, because he remembered what uncle had taught him.

When Thorin asked to see the dagger the little prince had been ranting on about, Fíli hesitated. Thorin gave him a stern look and his nephew quickly obliged, reaching under his pillow and retrieving the blade.

‘This is one of your fathers’ daggers.’ Thorin gasped. ‘Do you know how I can tell?’ Fíli shook his head. ‘He always had this specific handle, with the lion.’ Uncle explained. ‘See?’ Fíli gripped the handle firmly and gave his uncle the puppy eyed look. ‘You won’t tell Amad, will you?’ he pleaded. ‘If she knows, she will take it away from me!’ Thorin smiled and his eyes twinkled. ‘No, I won’t tell your mother. It’s all that you have from Adad.’ The prince heaved a relieved sigh. Thorin placed a gentle kiss on his nephews’ forehead. ‘But it’s not safe to keep on your person anymore, understood?’ ‘I’ll put it away, I promise.’ Fíli said reluctantly. His uncle smiled and made his way towards the door. ‘Fíli?’ he said, with his hand on the door handle. ‘Yes, uncle?’ the prince answered sleepily. ‘Keep it under the loose floorboard under your bed.’ Thorin told him. ‘It’ll be safe there.’ The young prince frowned, wondering how his uncle knew of this secret hiding place. But when he wanted to open his mouth to ask, Thorin already had disappeared. 

He would never know.

[sweetestlittledarling]

Warfstache (And Friends) Save Christmas Part 3

Part of @jim-news ego Christmas, Prompt #21: Snowmen and Prompt #22: Jingle bells

(I’m once again combining some prompts due to time and holiday stuff)

When we last left our heroes they had arrived at Santa’s workshop to find that it had been taken over by Anti. They also discovered that Anti had built himself a fortress in waiting for the fated time that he could break the veil. The elves Jingle and Jangle provide you a rocket-powered sleigh to get over the wall but in his excitement, Warf takes over and now you are on a crash course which could possibly end in your death...again....

(P.s. I realize this story kind of sucks. I had ideas but time constraints and holiday stuff got in the way, so I feel like I copped out on a few things like the end, but I promise that this story will lead to better things later, so please bear with me...)

You’re alive. For a moment you really thought it was the end, that this was one crazy venture too many. As that sleigh started towards the ground you found yourself wondering if this would be the moment Warf Stache manages to fully kill you but as you open your eyes again you find yourself in a state of not being dead. You are on the ground, unbruised and unbroken. You sit up and look around. Beside you lies the obsidian mirror. You pick it up and find Dark’s face still staring back at you, no more broken than before. “Did you…”

             Dark shifts just a bit. “I need you to help fix this mess,” he says, darkness pulsating around him. “Don’t expect it to happen again.”

             You think about thanking him but at the same time, you don’t think it would be well received so you keep your lips shut. Instead, you get to your feet and finally take in the sleigh, broken and burning not far away. Well, at least you made it over the wall. The sound of coughing makes you jump a little and then you see two small bodies crawling out of the wreckage. It’s the elves, Jingle and Jangle. You rush over to them. “You guys okay?” you ask.

             “Yeah,” Jingle says as he and Jangle rise to their feet. They are covered in soot but don’t look to be bleeding or broken. “Takes a lot more to beat a Christmas elf. Ten-time tougher than usual elves, especially those Keebler.” Jangle’s bell’s chime as he nods.

             You are about to say something when you happen to look up and see a bit of pink. It’s a body, laying in the snow. “Warfstache!” you cry as you rush over to him. You kneel next to him, reaching out to touch his pale face. He doesn’t respond, and his eyes are closed.

             “I’m so sorry… I think he’s dead,” Jingle says coming over, removing his little-pointed hat. Jangle does the same both looking solemn.

             You smile knowingly. “Nah, he’s fine.”

             Jingle looks at you in surprise. “What? He’s not breathing, and he looks like death! Plus, he was just in an epic crash. I’m sorry but I think your friend is dead.”

             “Yeah, well, my friend also just happens to be a magical creature known as an ego, and they can’t die by normal means. He’ll be up in one…two…”

             As if on cue, Warfstache’s eyes pop open and he sits up with a big smile on his face. Both elves jump back in surprise as you just smile. “That was a rush!” Warf says, like a happy child. “Can we do that again?”

             You roll your eyes and give his nose a little bop with your finger. “No,” you say, standing and offering your hand down to him. “We’ve got work to do.” Warf pouts but takes your hand allowing you to help him to his feet.

             Jangle still looks shocked as he replaces his hat. “What are you, people?”

             “That’s a long story,” you confess, as you turn back to the fortress beyond, “Now we have to-whoa!” Your words are cut off as you turn and find yourself face to face with an army of snowmen, all with grinning faces and holding, in their stick hands, knives that look very sharp. All the knives glitter in the moonlight, gleaming like a million pretty instruments of death. “Were those there before?”

             “Don’t know, but I don’t know if I like the look of them,” Jingle says, narrowing his eyes at the army in front of you. Jangle meanwhile looks frightened as he hides behind your leg, his bells jingling as he shivers.

             “Oh please, it’s a bunch of people made from snow, hardly anything to fear,” Warf says, with a wave of his hand. Then he grabs a hold of your hand. “Come on this Christmas special isn’t going to write its self!”

             “Warfstache!” You cry but it falls on deaf ears as you are tugged beyond the front line of the evil looking snowmen, still carrying Dark’s mirror. You can hear the elves following behind you, but you don’t dare look back. You feel as if all the snowmen are watching you, their dark eyes burning into your soul as you try not to be afraid of each sharp instrument you pass. “Warfstache don’t you think we should slow down?” you ask.

             It’s not Warfstache who answers but Dark, in his usual monotone: “No, you should run…run now.”

             “Wait…what?” But as the words leave your mouth, you see a flash of something and you jump to the side, just as a stick arm brings down a knife directly towards your face. You look up just in time to see a grinning snow man’s head turn around like the kid in the exorcist, looking directly towards you. Its eyes glow red as it raises it’s knife again. “Warfstasche!” you cry grabbing his hand. And suddenly there is the sound of a gunshot and you feel the splattering of snow on your face as the snow man’s head explodes all over you. It’s quite graphic even if it’s just snow. You look over at Warf who is holding his smoking revolver.

             “Not today snowman,” he says, momentarily looking like an action star.

             Suddenly all the snow men’s heads begin to turn, their eyes glowing, with knives pointing directly at you. You are surrounded by pointy objects. “Oh shit…” you whisper as Warfstache raises his gun again.

             “Be ready to run!” he says, and you nod.  You know in your heart he knows what he’s doing. If there is anything left of the Colonel in there… With two more shots, he manages to take out heads of the snowmen in your way just as you dodge the snowmen in back! And suddenly you are running, not looking back. You can hear the gunshots, trying not to let it get to you as you just keep focusing on the large foreboding archways of the fortress beyond. You feel Dark’s aura pulsating as you somehow manage to dodge each knife strike. You wonder if he’s helping…you don’t dare ask…Finally, you make it to the columns that make up the fortress with Jangle and Jingle at you heals. But as you turn back you can see…” WARFSTACHE!”

             He is still amongst the battle, fighting, and shooting! You feel the want to go and help him, but Jingle and Jangle are already moving. “You go ahead!” Jingle calls back, “we’ll help your friend! You have to save Christmas!”

             “But- “You start but Dark is one step ahead.

             “There isn’t time, leave them!”

             “But- “You look out again at the battlefield as the elves with their slingshots fire away. Then you catch sight of Warfstache, blowing the head off another snowman. He catches your eye and smiles in his way before he is swallowed up by snowmen with their large knives. You worry about him.

             “They can’t kill him!” Dark snaps, “go now!”

             You know he’s right and even though you wish to go back, you instead run through the archways and into the fortress. Soon the gunshots fade in the background as you find yourself surrounded by walls of cold unforgiving ice. You find yourself in one long hallway, with only one way to go. The inside of the fortress is just as foreboding as the outside, and as you look up above you, you see large hanging (and very pointy) stalactites. You guess that Anti takes his knife imagery very seriously. The entire place is lit up in a strange green glow, which seems to emanate from somewhere unseen. The whole thing makes you feel uneasy as your movements go from a run to a careful walk. You realize that now you are in the belly of the demon, and that thought makes your heart begin to beat hard.

             “You’re scared.”

             You jump a little as Dark speaks. “Well yeah,” you say, “I mean this is Anti we’re talking about.”

             “What is about him that scares you?”

             “What?” You stop a moment and raise the mirror to look at Dark’s face. “Why do you want to know?”

             Dark shifts as he tilts his head. “I simply wonder what my old friend finds scary about a fool who isn’t even as powerful as me.”

             You roll your eyes as you should have known this was about ego (lol). “Anti is a pure demon and a killer,” you tell him, “he is unpredictable and because of my connection to you he hates me, and being his enemy isn’t a good thing.” Then looking at his stupid Dark face you sigh. You are going to regret this.” Don’t let this go to your dark little head or anything, but you scare me in a different way. I know you are powerful, I’ve seen what you can do, and what’s worse is that you know my secrets, you know what gets me going and that makes you a worse enemy by far.”

             “And yet you still defy me at every turn,” Dark says raising an eyebrow, “why?”

             “I would have thought that would have been obvious.” You let out a breath and then stare directly into Dark’s deep eyes. “Because of you, I have lost a dear friend and my former life. You might terrify me but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you or any other dark realm demon take away any more of the people I care about. That’s why I will not let you kill Mark and why I will always stand against you!” These are words that you have wanted to say for a long time and now that you have gotten to say them you feel rather free.

             “Move.”

             “What?” That was not the answer you thought you would get.

             “I said move, now!”

             You hear rumbling from above and you look up in time to see one of the pointed spikes above you fall. You let out a cry as you dive forwards, out of the way of death.

             “You might want to start running…” Dark suggests.

             You hear the rumbling and cursing under your breath you take off at a run down the hallway. You hear things falling behind you, but you don’t dare look back. Just keep running! There is a light at the end of the hallway and as soon as you are close enough you dive for it. You just manage to make it as the last spike hits the ground right behind you. Out of breath, you lay on your back in the snow, cursing Anti in your head for making you run so much.

             “You’re welcome,” you hear Dark say smugly.

             “Shut up,” you snap back. As soon as you feel able to breathe again you get back to your feet. The room you are in is a big open area, still surrounded by ice and bathed in the eerie green light. In the middle of the room is a pile of what looks like computer screens. It’s kind of an odd sight given that everything else is ice. But it’s what’s in front of the computer screens that gets your attention: a set of jingle bells on leather. No, it couldn’t be that easy…You approach cautiously, moving slow and keeping your eyes and ears open. You manage to make it all the way over to the bells without anything happening. You even manage to pick them up. “I don’t understand,” you say to yourself. “I would have expected something to happen.”

             “Maybe the green fool ran away like the coward he is,” Dark suggested, making you roll your eyes in response.

             Suddenly all the computer screens click on at once and you see Anti’s demonic face glowing in all of them. “It’s not nice to call people names, Dark!” he hisses as you feel his eyes boring into you.

             “Oh shit!” you manage to say just as a powerful force slams into you sending you flying backward. The mirror and the bells go flying from your hands as you hit the ground, sliding across the ice as you lay there in a daze on your back. You moan as you feel a lump forming on the back of your head. And then you see Anti’s face and your eyes grow wide. He’s standing directly above you.

             “Well, if it isn’t my old friend the former district attorney.” Anti grin grows bigger as his knife appears in his hand. “If I remember correctly the last time we met…you were making me look like a fool…”

             Your heart is in your throat as you try to scramble backward, trying to get to your feet. You manage to scramble back to the ice wall, managing to get up on your feet with the cold ice pressing on your back. But before you can do anything Anti has his hand around your neck and you gag as he cuts off your air flow. You grab his wrist, but it tightens in a way that makes you think if he wanted to him could break your neck. Anti’s face is suddenly very close to yours.

             “You know…I really was hoping that you would be too late…I would have liked to show you my true…power…” he says as you struggle. “But then again…when do I ever get you all to myself without Dark or that pink…idiot to protect you!” Anti raises his knife towards your face, bringing it close to your cheek. “I think I’ll gut you like a fish…make you look really pretty…don’t you think that will be fun…” And you hiss as you feel the knife cut across your cheek, feeling the blood dribble behind it.

             But then see a flash of pink. “Pink knight!” you hiss and for a moment Anti looks confused.

             “What?”

             A gunshot hits the air and suddenly Anti vanishes, avoiding the bullet directed at his head! You gasp as you can suddenly breathe again, coughing as you lean against the wall, trying to gather the air you were missing. And there is Warfstache, gun in hand, rushing to your side.

             “Sorry I’m late,” he says with a big smile on his face, “did I miss anything?” His smile fades as he looks at your face. “Oh, you’re face- “

             “It’s okay,” you say, still coughing a little, giving him a small smile. “I’m fine, the pink knight saved the wizard once again.” And you are glad to see Warf smile although it is only momentarily as you both see Anti appear again, and in his hands, are the jingle bells.

             “You weren't paying attention…” Anti says, a grin spreading like the cut on his neck. “And now it is time…for Anti to come home…”

             “I’m afraid not,” a new voice booms.

             Suddenly, like magic, the bells fly from Anti’s hands to yours. You look and there stands a jolly fat man in a red and white suit. You can’t believe it, you were just saved by…” Santa!” And Santa smiles at you, his cheeks rosy and his face jolly, just as you always pictured it. Beside him are Jingle and Jangle, who look relatively unharmed as well.

             Anti screams as he glares at Santa, pointing his knife directly at the fat man. “Your stupid fat- “

             “My dear,” Santa says looking at you, “would you please do the honors.”

             You smile as you turn to Anti, giving the bells a jingle. “I wish Anti would go back to go back to his little black hole in the dark realm and all his wishes would be undone.”

             Anti turns his murderous look on you. “I’m always here…always watching…” he says.

             You shrug. “So, what else is new,” you say as a magical light envelope everything.

             The next thing you know you are back in elf town, but it is no longer dark. Instead, it is all lit up and there are little elves running about everywhere, singing Christmas songs, and just generally being happy. In the distance, you can no longer see Anti’s dark fortress, and everything is as you figure it should be. You smile as you feel Christmas is once again as it should be.

             “You have done it again and made the world all light and magic,” a dark voice says sarcastically behind you. “Well done.”

             “Oh. that right,” you say turning to see Dark standing there in all his glory, “you’re back to your normal self.” That’s when you remember the bells in your hand. You look at them and then at Dark.

             Dark’s eyes grow cold as he stands straighter. “Don’t you dare,” he says softly, threatening.

             And you really do think about it. Just one jingle.

             “I’m afraid it won’t work my dear.” It’s Santa’s voice again. You turn just as he puts a hand on your shoulder. He has a small sad smile on his face. “I’m afraid that the spell containing your friend’s soul is too powerful. Even Christmas magic won’t be able to break it. I’m sorry.”

             You feel your heart sink. You turn back to where Dark was standing but he’s gone. You sigh as you realize that it was a hopeless idea, to begin with. But before you can think any more negative thoughts, Warfstache appears and you find yourself in front of his camera.

             “Christmas is saved! Thanks to the brave actions of brilliant Wilford Warfstache and his friends! Anything to say before I send this to editing? Something to end this Christmas special right?”

             “Shouldn’t we point out that you almost destroyed Christmas in the first place and it was really Santa who saved this holiday?”

             “Yeah,” Jingle snaps, appearing by Santa’s side. “if it weren’t for you stealing those bells we wouldn’t have been in this mess!”

             “I do believe that someone should have called me when things got out of hand,” Santa says shaking a finger in the elf’s direction.

             Jingle looks down at the snow, looking guilty. “Sorry Santa, I figured that as your right-hand elves we could handle it.”

             Santa shakes his head but smiles. “Well, no harm done this time, just remember that no matter where I am you should call me,” he says. Then he turns to the camera. “And for you Wilford Warfstache…” Suddenly Santa’s eyes grow dark as you feel a cold chill run up your back. “…I know where you live!”

             You quickly slap Warf’s hand as you see it going for his gun. “You can’t shoot Santa!”

             “Aww,” Warf says as he pouts.

             “May I please have my bells back?” Santa asks, “I have many things to do for later…” You hand Santa the bells, although somewhat reluctantly... but you figure that kind of power is better in the hands of the red man.

             “I’m ready to go home and go to bed,” you say with a small yawn, “care to poof us home Warf?”

             “Wait!” Santa plucks a bell off the leather belt like grape off the vine and places it in your hand. “This is a wish for you, for all the trouble you went through tonight.”

             You look at the shiny bell in your hand. It has a beautiful silvery gleam and you swear although it is made of metal it is still somewhat warm. It fills you with a good feel and you smile. “Thank you, Santa.” You are a little surprised as Santa leans in close to you and whispers:

             “It can’t fix everything, but know that it can, for a little while, bend the rules.”

             You are confused and are about to ask what Santa is talking about, but you feel the familiar whoosh of Warfstache’s powers and instantly you are back in your bedroom. It feels weird as you stand there, almost like a dream…If it weren’t for the fact that Warfstache is standing there with you and you are still holding the jingle bell in your hand. “Hey Warf,” you say after a moment. “I think I got a good end for your Christmas special.”

             “Oh, really?”

             “Yeah. Us going to bed after we say…”

             Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

[thecoroutfitters]

Written by Guest Contributor on The Prepper Journal.

Editors Note: A guest contribution from Evan Michaels at Know Prepare Survive to The Prepper Journal. And a Happy and Safe Veteran’s Day to all who have served, to those that currently serve and their loved ones who make their service possible with their love and support.

As always, if you have information for Preppers that you would like to share and possibly receive a $25 cash award as well as be entered into the Prepper Writing Contest with a chance to win one of three Amazon Gift Cards  with the top prize being a $300 card to purchase your own prepping supplies, enter today.

There’s something raw and primitive about hunting. It takes us back to our roots.  

I am not a fisherman. Or a doctor. Or a very good listener. Where was I going with that…

Right, fishing.

The closest I have ever been to catching a fish with a rod and reel was hooking a bat that decided to investigate my bait as I cast the line.

That is not to say that I have never eaten fish I caught myself.

I once caught a fish with a spear that I made myself. Which is so much more manly than a silly stick and string.

   I know you probably think that I’m some amazing Bear Grylls-esque mountain man that would make Paul Bunyan look like a hipster. And you’d be mostly correct.

But if you want to learn how to make your own spear and hunt prey like an Alpha male (or female, I don’t discriminate) like me, you’ve come to the right place.

What Will You Need?

All you’re going to need to make your very own spear is a straight stick, a knife, and maybe some other stuff.

  The stick is pretty obvious but you DO have a knife, right? Every survivalist should carry a knife with them at all times (except at sporting events and family gatherings).

If you call yourself a survivalist and you find yourself in the woods without a knife, you better have gotten kidnapped and left for dead. Because that’s the only excuse.

The Spear-it Stick

The most exciting method of hunting with a spear is to lash your knife to a branch and make a pokey stick out of it.

You may have a chance of losing your knife if you do this, so be sure to have a spare. If you only have one knife (tsk tsk), I’ll cover what you can do later.

To make a knife-stick, you only need three things:

A knife – You want to use a moderately large knife with a fixed blade, no pocket knives or folding blades.

A branch – The branch should be straight and of reasonable thickness. It should be comfortable to hold and not droop from the weight of the knife, so about 3 inches in diameter and three to five feet long. Hardwood is preferred. Fresh, green wood is not preferred.

Cord or other lashing material – Almost anything will work for this, from paracord to shoelaces to sinew.

How to Make a Hunting Spear/Knife Stick

Step 1. Prepare the branch. You want it to be as straight and smooth as possible, so trim off any bits that stick out and cut down any knots. You may also want to remove the bark. Woof woof.

Step 2. Make a shelf on the branch to hold the knife. Take the end of the wood that will hold the knife, and lay the knife handle against it, with the blade parallel to the wood and pointing away from it (duh). Mark how far down the knife lays on the branch.

 Good Shelf; not so good a knife for this purpose.

Now take your knife and use it to split the end of the wood down the middle. I would recommend batoning, a very useful skill for anyone who wants to use a knife in the woods.

If you are unfamiliar, basically you insert a fixed blade knife into the wood close to the base of the blade, then use a stick or mallet to strike the spine and handle to split the wood apart. Make sure to use a sturdy knife.

Once you reach the marked point, cut into the wood from the outside and break off that half. You should have a more or less L shape in the wood which fits your knife.

Step 3. Place the knife handle into that shelf, then take your cordage and lash the knife to the branch as securely as possible.

Seriously, wrap that sucker tight. If it is loose, it will affect your stabbing skills, you can lose your knife, and you’ll look like a total dweeb.

Congratulations! You have a spear you can use for hunting.

Pro Tip: If your knife starts to get dull after all of this sawing and hacking, you can use your watch band to sharpen it!

Different Spear Types

Primitive Spear

If you only have one knife and don’t want to attach it to the end of a stick, you can create a primitive spear.

That’s right, there’s an even more primitive way to make a spear than just tying a knife to a stick.

Step 1. Instead of creating the shelf and lashing the knife to the branch, you take one end of the branch and whittle it to a sharp point. Carve into the wood towards the tip, away from you.

Like before, you’re going to want to use a sturdy piece a wood that’s relatively straight, about as big around as a shovel handle and as long or longer than a shovel handle. You don’t have a shovel handle, do you? Because that would be perfect.

Step 2. When you’re whittling your spear point, be sure to make the pointy bit at least 6 inches long. Try to make it look like one of those yellow #2 pencils from school, but bigger.

Optional Step 3. For a stronger tip, insert the point under the coals of a campfire and slowly rotate. You do not want to burn the wood, but rather harden it using the heat. It still will not be as sharp as a knife spear and will not last as long, but should still be able to penetrate a deer’s hide.

Boar Spear

Wild pigs can be a good source of food, but they are a fair amount more dangerous than a lot of wild animals. A wounded boar is a vindictive beast, and they will move towards you, pushing the spear through themselves!

To keep the hunter safe, boar spears tend to have a cross brace a little ways below the head of the spear. To make one of these:

Step 1. Make a spear (primitive or knife-stick)

Step 2. Use your knife to create a V shaped notch in the wood of the spear shaft, and a corresponding V shaped notch in a branch of similar thickness (though only about a foot long.)

Step 3. Align the notches and lash the two pieces of wood together. Do not skimp on the cordage, as you want this brace to be strong. Just remember, it’s got to hold an angry wild pig with tusks from goring you. Kind of want to wrap it a little better now, huh?

Now, if you spear a boar and it tries to gore you, the brace will prevent it from getting close.

The brace also has the added advantage of preventing the spear from sticking too far into the animal, so you can pull it out and strike again if necessary.

A boar spear should also be thicker and longer than one made to be thrown.

Pro Tip: If a boar is charging at you, plant the butt of your spear into the ground and aim the pointy end at, you guessed it, the rampaging mutant pig. This will use the boar’s momentum to do all of the hard work of getting the pig on a stick for you and keep you from getting any pesky splinters. Or, you know, getting gored.

Fishing Spear

These spears are shorter and lighter than the other types, as you do not need a long reach or to keep an animal at bay.

Plus, you’re going to miss A LOT so the heavier your spear is, the faster you’re going to tire out.

You can use a lighter version of the primitive spear for this. Same concept, smaller stick.

When hunting with a fishing spear, you wait above the surface of the water, and try to impale fish as they swim under you.

Remember, light refracts as it travels through water. You will have to adjust your aim. Practice poking the spear in the water to learn how you will have to change your aim.

It might be good practice to “spear” underwater rocks. I would, ah, use one of your “mistake spears” for that, though.

Advanced Fishing Spear

Have a little bit more time, or having difficulty fishing with a simple spear? There is a more advanced fishing spear method. Creating it still requires using a knife, but you do not need to attach it to the shaft.

Step 1. Take your branch, and wrap a few inches of cord around, about a foot down from the end of the spear. This will help keep the shaft from splitting.

Step 2. Take your knife, and baton about halfway down to the cord. Remove your knife, now baton perpendicular to the split you created, so you create four points. Go all the way down to a few inches above the cord, then use your knife to baton the other pieces the rest of the way.

Step 3. Now take two twigs, about the size of your pinky and a little longer than the branch is wide, and jam them down between the split pieces of the wood so they splay out. Secure them in place with the cord.

Step 4. Now take your knife and carve sharp tips into the four points. With four times the tips, you are more likely to spear that fish!

Hunting with a Spear

There are two basic ways of hunting with a spear. They are similar to hunting with other weapons, but you have to get closer. These methods are stalking and still hunting.

Stalking is when you sneak up close to the animal. When using a spear, you have to get very close. This is easier with boar than with deer, especially during the heat of the day when the pigs are trying to cool themselves, but is still not easy.

 Shovel handle with a milled blade.

Still hunting is when you lay in wait for the prey to come to you. Learn where the deer trails are and lay in wait upwind of them so your stink doesn’t scare off the prey. That’s also good dating advice.

Hiding in a tree close to a deer trail may be a good idea as well, as deer have a tendency to not look for predators above them. The downside then is that you have a harder time striking at their vital organs.

No matter whether you are stalking or still hunting, there are also two ways you can use to strike your prey. Lunging with the spear is effective, and allows you to strike again if you miss or need to, but requires you to be VERY close.

Throwing your spear naturally lets you attack from a longer range, but if you miss then you will not have a second chance. Plus you just threw your weapon away, which is a bad idea if you face something which fights back, like boar.

To practice throwing your spear, create a second primitive spear and throw that one until you are comfortable.

Could you stalk or ambush prey with a just a knife, without a spear? Sure, it is possible. But it will be much more difficult and more dangerous. The shaft of the spear increases not only your reach but also your leverage, making the weapon much more effective.

So if you decide to hunt boar with just a knife, take out life insurance, write your will, have someone hold your beer, and send me the video.

Author Bio (unedited)

Evan Michaels is a jerk. He generally enjoys playing with fire, running with sharp objects, and watching SEC football. He also writes for Know Prepare Survive with some other jerks. You’d probably like it. (Editors Comment: How many times can YOU watch Alabama football?)

  The post Hunting with Spears…. appeared first on The Prepper Journal.

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