didn’t proofread this bcuz I’m currently watching the snapcube re8 finale stream alkdsfsdjflf


Rotgut wakes, as she does most things, slowly. Through the haze of sleep, she begins to hear rain plinking off the tin roof of their current shelter—a little motel run by an even littler old man who can’t see his own hands in front of his face, much less tell who’s checking in or out. They were able to get a room without issue, and for cheap, too. She hears her partner’s familiar measured breathing next to her as well; in and out, in and out, with a slight wheeze on the inhales. That makes her brain start working a bit faster, and she registers the weight of Scrapjack’s body next to her own. Jack has always been in less-than-deal health, but it isn’t always obvious, even to Rotgut. The smaller woman seems to get around well enough and never complains of any aches or pains outside of battle wounds. Still, there are nights when Rotgut wakes to find Scrapjack coughing violently into a pillow or a rolled-up old shirt, trying to keep quiet as her body struggles to eject all the powder and gaseous chemicals she’d inhaled over the course of the day, along with a few bits of her lungs for good measure. Every bomb she throws is lovingly crafted by her own two hands, and though she loves the work, it’s dangerous without proper equipment. They don’t exactly have access to filtered masks or safety glasses, so Jack usually settles for wrapping a cloth around her nose and mouth, throwing on a pair of cheap swimming goggles, and hoping for the best. It isn’t good enough, apparently. The fallout doesn’t often catch up to her until she’s settling down for the night.


Last night had, thankfully, been free of incident. They’d enjoyed a calm week of pilfering gems off nobles to replenish their coin supply and for the next few days were able to relax for the first time in… quite a while, actually. When Rotgut finally begins to open her eyes, she finds herself wondering when she was last able to wake up like this. No pounding on the door, no sirens in the distance, no panic as her eyes fly open and she scans the room for danger. Just the cool air of a dingy motel and the almost-soft feeling of the sheets on her bare skin. Scrapjack is still asleep next to her, one arm thrown over Rot’s round belly. She must have slept well. Most mornings found her with half her body off the bed and the other half tangled up in blankets. Restless. Now, though, she’s still, and Rotgut allows herself a few minutes to enjoy the sight. Jack’s hair is sticking out at odd angles as it always does when she lets it down, trying to return to its normal state after being tied up for hours. Her face is soft and relaxed, a rare sight. As she watches, Scrapjack, true to form, wakes all at once, eyes popping open and taking a moment to focus before Jack gives her a warm smile. Rot returns it.


“доброе утро,” she says, voice husky with sleep.


“Mornin,’ darl.” Scrapjack brushes some of Rotgut’s hair to the side with a gentle hand. Rot lets her admire one of her bright green eyes for a few moments before she takes Jack’s hand in her own and presses a kiss to her palm. She follows it with another on the back of her hand, then on the soft skin of her wrist, then rolls onto her back and pulls Jack on top of her to kiss her properly. The smaller woman melts against her, one hand running through her hair and the other trailing down her body to squish the rolls of her belly.


“Yer gorgeous, Rottie,” Scrapjack mumbles against her lips. “So big and soft and… fuckin’ perfect.”


Rotgut smiles as Jack continues to ramble, pausing every few words to kiss her again.


“Yeah, I know I tell ya all the time. Can’t help it. Ya walk around lookin’ like a goddess and expect me ta keep my mouth shut about it? You know me better than that, Sook. I call ‘em like I see ‘em. And you,” she places a final kiss to Rotgut’s nose. “are one hell of a sight.”


She rests her head on Rot’s chest and closes her eyes again.


“Yer tits make damn fine pillows, too,” she adds. That earns her a chuckle. It feels special, Rot thinks as she watches Jack slowly slip into sleep once again, that she’s able to see the woman like this. Most people would never imagine that the smaller half of the most notorious crime duo in the state could settle down long enough to look peaceful. Rotgut knows this version of Scrapjack well. The version who loves to cuddle up next to her after a long day and watch the dumbest-looking movie they could filch from the nearest electronics store, who holds Rot closer as she drifts off and more often than not falls asleep in her arms long before the credits roll. The version who wakes up with the rising sun to make an inevitably burnt but still edible breakfast and coaxes her partner out of bed with soft words and softer touches.


It’s easy to forget that this side of her exists at all, much less that Rotgut herself has an equally soft side to match it. In this quiet morning, though, she’s reminded just how human they both are. She’s reminded how far they are from where they began, and how far they still have to go. It’s scary, sure, but not nearly as scary as it should be. No matter what comes their way, they’ll face it together.


She revels in the warmth of the morning light until the slightly stuttered beating of Jack’s heart lulls her back to sleep.



drawing human rotgut is so therapeutic.. she's so somft…. so squish!! >:0
Anyway have some sleepy ladies because I'm big gay, big tired, and big sappy.