#tinker cliffs

[placeswordsdreams]

Andy Layne Trail, Virginia

#hiking #trail #footpath #hiking trail #virgina #va hiking #tinker cliffs

[resnihil]

I went hiking. What a surprise

#personal #tinker cliffs #Virginia #appalachian trail

[fanelectricboogieloo]

IDW Sonic Fanart spoilers

Spoiler doodle behind the read more.

When you meet your older siblings.

#mecha sonic mk 2 #belle the tinkerer #idw sonic spoilers #Metal Sonic #Fanart #idw sonic #scrapnik island #ribbon (kirby) #sonic frontiers spoilers #Cliff

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve was a fixer.

But when it came to fixing things, he was lacking.

People? Great.

The bathroom sink? The car? His favorite sweater? Not so great.

But Eddie was a fixer, too.

And he could fix things.

When Steve’s bathroom sink started leaking, Eddie came over to replace a part of the pipe.

Steve watched as he concentrated on removing the piece that was broken, his tongue poking out of his mouth in a way that made Steve’s heart flip.

When it was fixed, Steve offered to pay him, but Eddie just glared at him and took a beer from the fridge before leaving in his van.

When Steve’s car started smoking on his way home from work, he took a left instead of a right at the fork in the road to get to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie spend the next hour tinkering away, breaking a sweat, causing Steve to have a heart attack while he watched.

When he finished, Steve offered him the cash in his pocket and was given a shake of the head and an offer to come inside for a drink.

He would’ve been stupid not to take the offer.

But out of everything, his favorite sweater getting a hole in the shoulder was the most devastating.

He wore it to bed, to the store, even to work when he was dealing with a migraine. He wore it during every season, during any event. He’d gotten endless compliments on it for two years running and he’d be stupid to part with it.

So the hole in the shoulder had to be fixed.

Unfortunately, Steve’s only needle and thread were for stitches. Despite his ability to stitch a wound close in minutes, he couldn’t stitch cloth together to save his life.

Did it make sense? No.

So, he took a chance.

He called Eddie, reigning in the sudden indescribable panic in his voice, hoping that he didn’t sound incredibly ridiculous.

“Yep.”

“That’s how you answer your phone?”

“When I was almost asleep, yeah.”

Steve glanced at the clock. Shit. It was almost midnight. He hadn’t even realized how late it was by the time he got out of the shower.

“Sorry, man. Um…I’ll call you in the morning.”

Steve started to hang up but stopped when he heard Eddie yelling on the other end.

“Harrington! Wait!”

“Okay…”

“Is everything good? You’ve never called this late.”

Steve gulped. He hadn’t actually called him before for anything other than trying to find one of the kids. This was entirely out of character and Eddie would be extremely suspicious if he didn’t explain.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s…fine. Totally fine. Just had a favor to ask.”

“Ask away.”

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly. This wasn’t what he’d prepared for at all.

“So you know my blue sweater?”

“The one that brings out the gold in your eyes?”

Well. That’s certainly. Something.

“I…guess? Um. Anyways. It’s got a hole in it and I figured you’re pretty good at fixing things so. Maybe you could fix that?”

The silence on the other end wasn’t promising and Steve was considering just hanging up and driving over the cliff at the quarry when Eddie finally spoke up.

“Yeah, can do. Just bring it over in the morning.”

Steve should’ve accepted that. This was already a nice favor, it was encroaching closer to midnight, and this was a sweater he didn’t even need to wear right now.

But for some reason, Steve’s brain couldn’t let this go until morning.

“Would it…be okay to like. Bring it now?”

Silence again.

God, he was so fucking stupid.

He sounded certifiably insane. Like, send him to a psychiatric hospital crazy.

“Never mind. That’s so. Just. Never mind.”

This time he did hang up before Eddie’s silence could say any more.

The phone rang less than a minute later and he ignored it.

He could never talk to Eddie again. He’d have to learn how fix things now. Bathroom sinks and cars, and now this sweater that ruined his life.

Then the phone rang again and Steve decided he had to be an adult about this.

“Harrington residence.”

“Steve, you know it’s me.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah.”

“I’m coming over. I’ll bring my sewing kit.”

“What? No! You don’t have to do that. I’m sorry, it’s not an emergency, I don’t know why I acted like it was.”

“Be there in ten.”

And he was. He probably broke every speed limit between his trailer and Steve’s house, but Steve didn’t care because the panic that had settled deep in his bones was already dissipating.

Without saying a word, Eddie invited himself in and walked up the stairs to Steve’s room. Steve ran a mental inventory of every single thing currently on his bedroom floor and thanked his past self for cleaning up the day before.

When he entered his room, Eddie was already sitting on his bed, sewing kit placed next to him, sweater in hand. He was inspecting the hole, which in hindsight, was barely there at all. Eddie was going to laugh at him. Or leave and never come back. Or both.

“Not so bad, but I can see why you’re worried. This placement is right on the seam of the collar. Could’ve torn the whole thing if it got caught on something.”

And then Eddie got to work.

Steve just let his words of comfort wash over him.

Had he been silly about a tiny hole in a sweater that could be replaced? Maybe.

But Eddie acknowledged that no matter how silly it was, he was allowed to be worried.

No one had done that before. Not even for things he genuinely should have been worried about.

Steve slowly sat down on the bed, being careful not to disrupt the focused flow Eddie had going.

“Thanks for doing this. I really didn’t think it was that late.”

Eddie shrugged. “No big deal. Already almost fixed.”

He remembered Robin telling him about Eddie helping her sew a patch on her band uniform not long ago, and how Dustin said Eddie had sewn all his own patches on his denim jacket. A small hole in a sweater would be nothing.

Only a minute later, Eddie was handing the sweater to Steve with a small, tired smile.

“Like new!” He threw out his arms dramatically.

Steve examined the sweater, amazed to see it genuinely looked like nothing had ever happened.

“You’re amazing.” He looked up to see Eddie blush.

“It’s just a basic stitch. I could show you at a more reasonable hour if you want.”

Steve could learn. It probably wasn’t that hard. And Eddie seemed good at it, he barely even had to think about this fix.

“But then I wouldn’t get company at midnight.”

Why did he say that? Jesus Christ, why did he say that?

That was beyond desperate, borderline creepy, and Eddie would definitely never talk to him ever again.

“You can call me anytime you need company, Stevie.”

Hm.

“I could always use your company.”

What was going on? This felt like openly flirting in a potentially dangerous way. They were alone, it was just past midnight, Steve had been fantasizing about Eddie for months. All the pieces of the puzzle pointed to taking a chance.

Or whatever.

“I’m pretty tired. Could I stay here?”

It felt like a very sharp turn from where they were in the conversation. Steve stared in confusion.

“Uh. I mean yeah. Yeah, that’s great, actually. I can take the guest room.”

“Didn’t you just say you could always use my company?”

Steve huffed out an awkward laugh. “I guess I did.”

“Unless you didn’t mean it, I could just stay in here with you.”

Steve’s brain short-circuited, static filling his ears. Bad idea.

“Yeah. Okay.”

His mouth was now functioning without permission from his brain, which may actually be a health concern.

As Steve changed into the sweater Eddie rushed over to fix, Eddie shucked off his jeans and t-shirt. Steve would be lying if he said he didn’t sneak a look. It’s hard not to when the person you lo…like a lot has such a tiny waist staring back.

They wordlessly got in Steve’s bed, Eddie naturally falling on the side by the door. He had no interest in getting under the covers, apparently, since he curled up against one of the pillows more on Steve’s side, and let out a sigh.

Steve stared at the way his eyelashes fluttered slightly as he completely settled into sleep.

He’d tell him in the morning. Maybe.

But for now, he’d appreciate the company in his bed.

And in the morning, when he found every article of clothing that needed to be fixed, he went to his fixer with a smile and eventually, a kiss.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ao3fic #my fic #tumblr drabbles #headcanon #housewife Eddie but trophy wife Steve #the real otp

[whitecatindisguise]

Sails and Mangey shenanigans? 👀

Okay, so this one is the least developed, but let me see what I can cook up on the spot.

When Tails says you can't leave Sails and Mangey alone, he really means you can't leave Sails and Mangey alone.

If they're separately, the two are quite easy to manage. All there's needed are some trees (for Mangey to climb) or a tv programme about pirates (for Sails to watch and point out every single mistake and inconsistency).

But together? An unsupervised? Chaos forbid!

Last time, they somehow managed to reverse-engineer a fridge into a cannon (!) and used it to shoot themselves from the cliff, making a contest of "which one can fly further and longer before using his tails to catch himself".

And before that, it was a deadly obstacle course, running all through the Mystic Ruins, the jungle and ending by the workshop. It wouldn't be half-as-bad if they were the only ones doing it. But the obstacles were hidden, so that any unfortunate passerby, Big and Sonic included, could trigger the mechanisms and be for a nasty surprise.

There are more examples, but you get a drift. Sails alone - cool. Mangey alone - manageable. Sails AND Mangey alone?

So when one day Tails can't find neither of the two foxes, of course he gets worried. He knows they both are around. He's seen them arrive, not at the same time but neither left. Now, neither is around and Tails can already feel the headache coming from what they might be up to this time.

He picks up his Miles Electric and dials a number. It's time to call the reinforcements.

"Hey, Nine," he says as soon as the call goes through. "Up for some fox hunting?"

Don't worry, they're all fine afterwards. Sails and Mangey just have one braincell that says "build fun stuff" but the braincell doesn't tell them "fun" can be also "dangerous". I imagine they don't have much experience with tinkering and all, so when they have the opportunity, they just go wild (nothing new for Mangey fjdmndnd).

Anyway, I think this could go into kinda "hunters and hunted" game with Prime bros, the teams being Sails+Mangey Vs Tails+Nine, with possible collateral damage of at least Sonic. Might be fun to explore and I'll defo do some research on pirate speech to write Sails properly.

#that's what i came up with right now #no prior thoughts except “sails and mangey” #sails tails #mangey tails #nine tails #miles tails prower #sonic the hedgehog #sonic prime #kitty mom answers

[cryoculus]

— guard dog 01 ⟢

pairing: thoma x assassin!reader

summary: you’re a skilled mercenary who takes odd jobs all around inazuma to make ends meet. so when the shogunate hires you to assassinate the lady of the kamisato clan, you don’t think much of it. that’s until you grossly miscalculate how good of a guard dog her chief retainer actually is.

word count: 5.5k words

notable characters: thoma, kamisato ayaka

tags: found family, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut

warnings: drugging attempts, assassination attempts

notes: i'll be posting chapters one to thirteen everyday at double intervals! this is one of the fics i'm immensely proud of writing, so i hope you like it hehe :')

header art cr: n0yunn on twt

masterlist

You’ve always wondered what the Kamisatos of old had been thinking when they decided to build a mansion by the cliffs of Mount Yougou. 

First, you’d either have to make the trek up the mountain or navigate your way through Chinju Forest. The locals of Narukami Island already regarded that place warily—with all the talk about bake-danuki kidnapping lost children in the cover of night, never to be seen again.

And then there was the sudden drop all the way to the rocky shores of the coastline below. One wrong move, and you might just find yourself dead on the beach if you carelessly traipse around the edges of the property. 

But you knew, more than most, that the natural terrain wasn’t what made the Kamisato Estate so difficult to breach. 

The guards of the Yashiro Commission were stationed uniformly across the area—looking intimidating enough to send any amateur thief packing. One could tell from a glance that these guys had years of training under their belts.

After all, they were guarding one of the three noble households in Inazuma. But it’s not like anyone who knew about Kamisato clan and its retainers was stupid enough to cross them like that. 

Unless, of course, they were you.  

A flock of birds flew overhead from your vantage point, momentarily distracting you from the task at hand. It was nearing sundown again, and the princess should be tending to the sand gardens right about—

“Now,” you whispered, biting down on a lavender melon as you watched the scene unfold. 

Normally, scouting your targets from a perch so high up was impossible. But your employers were generous enough to supply you with a pair of binoculars for the job. You were never one to tinker with any Fontainian contraption imported into the country, but if it works, it works.

Now here you were, hidden away in one of the slated slopes of the mountain as Kamisato Ayaka stepped out into the foyer to admire the scenic view. 

She strode gracefully into the garden, rake in hand before gazing out into the open sea. The waning sunlight glittered across the surface in warm tones, and you would have been mesmerized too, if the circumstances had been any different.

Still, this was a sight Ayaka saw everyday, and the princess spared no time soaking up the scenery longer than she had to. 

This was your seventh day of lying in wait—familiarizing yourself with each person who went in and out of the estate at all hours of the day. Where they went, what they did, who they spoke to.

Well, not really. Even a dedicated mercenary like you had to take some breaks in-between. But one week was enough for you to memorize the daily habits of the Yashiro Commission. 

A greenhorn would never have noticed the way they loosened security in the first hour of twilight. Only five guards out of the original ten stationed outside would remain, and the others would be invited to eat dinner inside the pavilion.

After twenty or-so minutes, they would switch with the guards that stayed behind—rinse and repeat. 

During this momentary give in their defenses, though, Ayaka would trace circles into the sand garden in quiet meditation.

Vulnerable. Exposed.

If you decided to take her out with a bow and arrow, gravity would favor you in more ways than one. But you were a shit archer at best, and there was…something else that threw a wrench in your plans. A wildcard in your weeklong observation period that you just couldn’t pin down no matter how many alternatives you tried to come up with. 

The lavender melon turned bitter in your mouth once you caught sight of him.

Thoma was someone that’s very hard to miss. You’ve seen him a couple of times around Ritou—all golden hair and swindling smiles—but you never once dared to make his acquaintance. Fixers were crafty people by nature, and you’d rather not get outfoxed by someone like him by any means.

In fact, your constant avoidance was finally bearing fruit now that you’ve been entrusted with the assassination of Kamisato Ayaka. 

But while everyone else in the Yashiro Commission stuck with their day-to-day routines faithfully, Thoma seemed like he always just acted on a whim. That man had no concept of routine at all.

Unlike Ayaka who committed herself to her own schedule without fail, Thoma was someone who did something different everyday. 

In hindsight, it was expected. He was an undercover fixer—of course his daily to-do list wasn’t patterned the same way as everyone else’s. 

The other day, Thoma left the estate at the crack of dawn only to come back a few hours after midnight.

Yesterday, he leveled the hedges as he watched Ayaka practice her swordsmanship in the courtyard.

And now, after bidding a few words in farewell to his charge, he was walking out of the estate with a carefree hint to his strides. If you drew any closer, you might even hear him whistling. 

Case in point: this wasn’t the first time you were hired to kill a noble. It was, however, the first time you’ve had to deal with a variable that’s as unpredictable as Thoma.

You watched him take the path that led to Chinju Forest through your binoculars—tossing the stem of your lavender melon to the side. He was probably headed to Inazuma City from the looks of it.

Patiently, you waited until Thoma’s form disappeared into the mist before heaving a long sigh in relief.

Now that he was out of the way, you could afford some room to think.

Admittedly, you weren’t sure why the shogunate even contacted someone like you to carry this out. You were nothing but a lone swordswoman who took on odd jobs to make ends meet. Killing other people for money wasn’t exactly above your moral compass, but could your feats be impressive enough for the Tenryou Commission to seek you out personally? 

“Kill the girl and make it seem as if the Sangonomiya rebels were behind it,” said Kujou Masahito, the night he and his men found you. “We’ve been in a stalemate long enough.” 

It was a tall order, now that you thought about it. What person in their right mind would accept a mission to: one, infiltrate the Kamisato estate; two, murder the lady of the house; and three, frame the resistance for the act? Sure, the Tenryou Commission practically offered you millions of mora in exchange, but was all that really worth risking your neck for?

However, asking questions wasn’t something you did with your clients. Whoever they were, whatever their motives, so long as they came to you, offering the right price, you would see the job done.

Your discretion has always made you quite the favorite in the Inazuman underworld, and you’d prefer if things stayed that way.

Rising from your aching haunches, you shoved the binoculars into a knapsack. You then cast the estate below a sidelong glance. The sun had long set, and a slew of yellow lanterns lit up the courtyard.

You could see Ayaka being escorted back inside the house by one of her attendants, possibly to join her brother for dinner as well. You paid it no mind. 

You’ll allow her some last moments of serenity before putting an end to her life.

About two hours before midnight, you descended from your perch—ducking behind trees while skilfully evading the guards’ line of sight. You quietened your footsteps as you approached the building in which the estate’s denizens resided. 

There was no need for you to draw this close, as you’ve already gleaned most of what you needed to know from a distance, but… 

It was about time for the princess’ nightly routine. An elegant dance performed beneath the moonlight—with her signature fan scattering white snowflakes in the height of summer.

You’ve heard about the Shirasagi Himegimi’s mesmerizing performances in passing. How she was always the star of every cultural festival in Amakame Island.

You were only human, so you were naturally inclined to be curious. And it’s not as if seeing her dance in the moonlit foyer will derail your plans. 

But you’d been a few minutes too late, it seemed. Because now, Ayaka was seated by the edge of the pavilion, gazing silently at the clear sky above. In her hands was a teacup patterned with herons in flight—one of her favorite pieces. 

To a normal onlooker (A.K.A., anyone who didn’t spend seven days deliberately stalking her), Ayaka didn’t seem the type to drink tea all by herself. She had an entire Commission’s worth of company, and she could always ask one of her retainers to sit down and nurse a few drinks with her.

But you’ve come to realize that the princess was someone who didn’t like disturbing others—regardless of how minimal the disturbance might be. 

Kamisato Ayato took charge of the political dabblings of the Yashiro Commission. Kamisato Ayaka was the face of the clan; the heart of the people; adored by each and every person who knew her by name.

But…why did she look so lonely?

“Milady, you shouldn’t be staying up so late.”

The sound of Thoma’s voice made you seize up like a cat tossed into a basin of water—making you reflexively duck behind the rigid walls on the side of the house. There were no lanterns on this side of the estate, so the darkness should be able to conceal you well enough.

“I was waiting for you to return,” Ayaka admitted aloud, the sound of her sandals scraping against the stone-littered path ringing in your ears. “I…I would have had a hard time falling asleep either way—knowing not everyone is safely back in the mansion at this hour.”

You arched an eyebrow but continued listening in.

“Oh?” There’s a hint of amusement in Thoma’s tone. “Even if I specifically informed you earlier that I might not be back until tomorrow noon, you still waited? Milady, you honor me, but I can’t continue imposing such—”

“You’re not imposing,” Ayaka sighed, and it’s the first time you've heard her sound so…exasperated. But then again, Ayaka was only ever this animated in the company of her chief retainer. “As one of the leaders of the Yashiro Commission, it’s my responsibility to ensure the well-being of my retainers.”

“Isn’t it the other way around, though?” Thoma laughed, and you got the impression that you were intruding on something you weren’t supposed to. (A little too late to have those sentiments now, but you still had some integrity, at least.) “Well, I know there’s no changing your mind when it is already set, milady. How about we pair your evening tea with some sakura mochi I brought from the Teahouse?” 

A pause. “You’re going to tell me what you were doing in Inazuma City, yes?”

“It would be a disservice not to.”

Knowing you’d already lingered for too long, you fled the scene—silently backing away until you heard a loud crunch echoing into the evening air. You jolted, cursing under your breath when you realized you’d stepped on a damn twig—!

“Thoma? What’s wrong?”

Then, footsteps—accompanied by the sound of the chief retainer’s accessories jingling on his person. You ducked behind an unsuspecting aralia tree, but right in front of you was a sheer drop into the ocean. Archons damn it. You hadn’t realized how close you were to the edge of the cliff. 

Instinctively, you pressed your back further against the tree bark, wondering what the hell Thoma was even doing here when he supposedly had business to attend to in the city. 

“It’s nothing, milady,” he sighed, and you felt your shoulders sag with relief as you heard his voice draw further away. “Just thought I’d heard something.”

“You must be tired if you’re starting to hear things.”

Not waiting for Thoma to come up with a response, you made your timely escape. 

Somewhere down the deeper corners of Chinju Forest was an abandoned shrine. It was on the smaller side—the ornamental roof layered with thick moss, and the talismans having faded with age. You hadn’t the slightest clue which deity it was dedicated to, but it was for that reason that you declared it your designated territory of sorts. 

There, you took out a shovel from your knapsack before digging a hole into the ground. It was safer to leave what little belongings you had where no people could even begin to look. And you’d rather not be carrying all your possessions when you’re about to infiltrate a mansion.

Once you’re satisfied with the depth, you began to rummage through the bag. You only took what was strictly needed—a pouch of powdered crystal marrow and a lone dark feather.

Mora and weapons wouldn’t be necessary if you did the job properly, which you will. But before you could turn around to shovel the unearthed soil back in place, you twisted the feather in your fingers. 

This was the item that secured your agreement to the Tenryou Commission’s outlandish request. Kujou Sara was known to be a fierce warrior on the battlefield, so if Masahito managed to procure one of her feathers and give it to you, it was the real deal.

The shogunate really was out to tip the scales and launch the country into a civil war. 

However, the feather was also a contingency plan of sorts.

“If you foresee yourself being unable to complete the mission, burn it and we’ll send someone to come to your aid,” Masahito informed, and while you were grateful for the possible fallback, you wondered if burning it rendered your reward money null and void. You didn’t ask, nor did he elaborate.

It was normal to have your reservations about this. After all, you could very much go down in the history books as the match that ignited the bloodiest war in Inazuma. But you never really cared much for appearances. Not now, not ever.

Once you accept a job, you’ll see it through until the end. 

“H-Help, please… Help.”

The guards were quick to act once you emerged from the forest the following day—bloody and beaten and quivering in your boots. One of them managed to catch you before you could fully collapse to the ground, and he immediately barked orders to prepare a room and call a healer. 

Faking your identity to mislead victims was a trick you picked up from an old acquaintance. The acting that went into the entire charade was as troublesome as it sounded, but you weren’t exactly given many cards to play here.

Hell, even the method you’d decided to assassinate Ayaka with was far from your usual. But you didn’t build a reputation for yourself by cutting corners and half-assing your jobs, that’s for sure. 

Of all the members of the Tri-Commission, the Yashiro Commission was the most impartial. They had the hearts of the people of Inazuma, and the Kamisato clan collectively cared for them in return.

Whether you’re a rebel or a shogunate officer, if you turned up half-dead on their doorstep, it was ingrained in their principles to take you in. That kindness, however, was a double-edged sword.

They’d just invited a murderer into the heart of their stronghold. 

However, their retainers weren’t complete idiots. Before rushing you into a room to get your injuries tended to, a due interrogation was conducted. (Who are you? Where did you come from? What happened?)

All their questions, you answered with a somewhat convincing act—you’re woozy from the “blood loss”, unable to respond coherently, drifting in and out of consciousness. But they could glean from your tattered maroon disguise uniform that you were part of the resistance. 

“She probably tried to infiltrate the Kujou Encampment,” suggested one of the female attendants. “Both sides are growing more and more desperate each day… Should we inform Lady Ayaka and Lord Ayato?”

The proposal was met with a grunt from a man you recognized as Madarame Hyakubei. “Lord Ayato requested for us not to disturb him today, and Lady Ayaka is resting for the afternoon. Granted, Master Thoma didn’t say when he’ll return either so I suggest we keep this under wraps for now.”

Keep this under wraps. Yeah, that definitely worked in your favor.

With a silent, unanimous agreement, the rest of the guards left you in the hands of their resident healer—a meek woman who introduced herself as Hina.

You knew better than to respond to any of her inquiries, so you continued masquerading your own deliriousness as she patched up your self-inflicted wounds. Hina didn’t linger longer than she had to, and once you stopped fake-moaning in pain, she eventually got up and resumed whatever task your arrival had rudely interrupted.

There were still some curious attendants sneaking glances into the room they’d put you in, though—whispering amongst themselves in hushed tones. Thankfully, those gossiping girls went about their own business sometime later, and you’re left completely alone. 

You couldn’t really do much in your current state. The people around the mansion were led to believe that you’ve been gravely injured. It would definitely raise suspicions if anyone saw you tiptoeing around the house, so you bide your time.

You’ve waited an entire week to put your plans into motion, what’s a few hours more?

When night fell, you expected one of the attendants to bring you dinner—if the Yashiro Commission’s extensive hospitality was anything to go by.

The anticipation might have also been fueled by the fact that it’s been days since you’ve eaten a proper meal. Whenever the guards outside ate altogether in the pavilion, the food prepared for them looked so appetizing. You couldn’t really blame yourself for pondering what they’ll serve you.

But the person who emerged into the room a few minutes later was the last one you’d expected to come.

“L-Lady Kamisato,” you stammered, sitting upright to bow your head. “It’s an honor. Please don’t trouble yourself with this…” 

Ayaka flashed you a gentle smile, kneeling on the tatami to set the tray of food on your bedside. “It’s only proper that I see our guest with a warm welcome. You must be feeling better now that you can speak to me. My retainers said you were practically unintelligible earlier.”

Fuck. You broke character.

Swallowing thickly, you managed a dry laugh. “Your healer was amazing, miss. I didn’t think I would make it through the day, actually…” 

She nodded in understanding, a grim look suddenly crossing her pristine features. “I see. You’re one of the Sangonomiya rebels, aren’t you? May I ask what you’re doing all the way here on Narukami Island?” 

You purposely let your shoulders sag in a false show of emotion. “I…was sent for an espionage mission, but I got hunted down by the shogun’s lap dogs. Thanks to you, though, I’m still in one piece.”

“I had no part in your recovery. It’s all the work of my retainers,” Ayaka clarified with that same, unwavering smile. She gestured for you to take the food she’d brought. “Go on. I’m sure you’re hungry, so you better eat something.”

You were gladly about to indulge in her offer before—

“Milaaaady,” drawled an obnoxiously loud voice coming from the halls. And when a head of golden hair poked itself into the room, you felt your appetite vanishing in a puff of smoke. “Why’d you leave me in the kitchen? I can’t look after you if you’re going around without me, you know?”

There he was—the wild card that constantly threw your plans into disarray. 

“Thoma, don’t be too loud. She’s still resting,” Ayaka chided as he knelt beside her on your bedside. “This is Thoma, the chief retainer of the Kamisato clan. He normally isn’t this noisy, so I hope you forgive him.”

No introduction needed, thank you very much, you wanted to say, but kept your mouth rightfully shut. Instead, you met Thoma’s green-eyed gaze as you tilted your head in a curt bow. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” he chuckled before folding his arms together. “I believe I haven’t caught your name yet…” 

A name. Right. You had to give them a name—not your real name, of course. You weren’t that overconfident. 

“Kira,” you spoke softly. “My name is Kira.” 

“I see. So, Miss Kira…you’re from the resistance, huh? What’s the status over there in Watatsumi Island?” 

Again, you assumed your role as a fugitive rebel with sigh. “Not too good. They’ve pushed us back so far that we had to resort to underhanded tactics.”

Thoma raised an eyebrow. “Such as?” 

Immediately remembering the suggestion of one of the attendants earlier, you decided to use that as a reference. “Infiltrating the Kujou Encampment to gain some intel. Though, I hardly got that done at all since…” Then, a wordless gesture towards the bandages wrapped around your body. 

Ayaka flashed you a pitiful expression while Thoma hummed to himself. Did you really sound that convincing? Nonetheless, the chief retainer spoke again. “A wise man once told me that the best way out of a predicament is through. Why don’t you guys just march straight into Inazuma City and take it up to the Raiden Shogun herself?”

“Why don’t we step out and allow our guest to have some peace tonight?” Ayaka intervened, rising to her feet while tugging on Thoma’s sleeve in the process as she turned to you. “He asks too many questions sometimes. Again, please forgive him.” 

You shook your head. “I’m already taking up much of your time as is. The one seeking penance should be me, milady.” 

The princess shook her head once more as they made their way out of the room. “We hope for nothing but utmost health for you, Miss Kira. Please don’t hesitate to call for us if you need anything. We can discuss your situation further in the morning.” 

When the door slid shut behind them, you could still vaguely make out some fragments of conversation. Ayaka was saying something along the lines of, “You should really be more polite to our guests,” and Thoma only responded with a peal of laughter. 

Then, your eyes flickered towards your dinner—braised salted fish with pickled seaweed on the side.

“All these formalities for a complete stranger?” you muttered, pulling apart the chopsticks they’d provided as you shook your head. “Bunch of fools...” 

Once you’ve had your fill, you tossed the blankets aside and stretched your limbs. Acting bedridden could easily make you feel the part, and you had to keep your blood pumping for what you were about to do. 

For some reason, Hina and the guards didn’t bother inspecting you or your clothes, which proved to be quite the advantage.

Walking over to where they’d set down your boots, you turned the left boot upside down—shaking it rigidly until a satin pouch and a dark feather fell to the floor. 

The pouch that contained the poison you were to use weighed almost nothing in your palm, and it was for that reason you chose it.

Powdered crystal marrow was so easy to conceal that slipping it into the princess’ evening tea was mere child’s play. You then shoved Kujou Sara’s feather in one of your pockets, praying you didn’t have to use it at all. 

When the door to the room slid open again, you were completely prepared. This time, it wasn’t Kamisato Ayaka nor Thoma who went in to collect the tray.

It was one of the attendants that had been gossiping outside while the healer was tending to your injuries. 

She paused by the entrance when she noticed you weren’t in your futon, and it was at that moment that you pounced—muffling her nose with a cloth laced with poison. Not enough to kill her, but certainly enough to knock her out.

Knowing that you’re quickly running out of time, you disrobed the attendant and replaced your disguise with her clothes swiftly.

The sleeves billowed just right around your arms, and the obi wasn’t too difficult to tie. And since you felt slightly bad for having to drag her into this, you covered the attendant’s bare body with the thin blanket of your futon. 

With the tray that Ayaka had dropped off in hand, you closed the door to your room—eyes darting around for anyone who could have gotten wind of what just happened. 

Fortunately, there weren’t many people milling inside the mansion. Just a couple of attendants dusting furniture and scrubbing the tatami.

None of them spared you so much as a backwards glance. But, knowing you couldn’t exactly disguise your face, you made yourself scarce—heading to a hall that you had a hunch led to the kitchen. 

Based on the brief glimpses you’d seen prior to your relocation to the room, your guess should be right, and the attendant you’d just taken out was about to bring Ayaka her evening tea. You didn’t perform a weeklong stake-out for your calculations to be incorrect. 

With each step you took across the hall, your heart pounded dreadfully. This was it. You were almost there. If you managed to pull this off, your mantle as Inazuma’s most cunning assassin would be set in stone. Your services would be sought after, and you’d be raking in millions from each job. 

(And then Inazuma would be plunged into chaos. The fall of the Kamisato clan’s eldest daughter undoubtedly offsetting the peace that the people of Narukami tried so hard to maintain. The Electro Archon would no longer have any reason to hold back. But would the Raiden Shogun lash out on the very people whom she promised a never-ending eternity? 

Would someone like you even be spared from her wrath?)

Your predictions have been correct. You were headed the right way. The kitchen was at the far end of this hall, and none of the other attendants were present. 

Instead, the one that greeted you was the chief retainer in all his smug glory—instantly ripping you away from your musings of the future, and back to the dreadful present. 

Thoma stood in front of the counter, a fresh tea set patterned with Ayaka’s favorite herons painted elegantly on each ceramic piece. Behind him, a kettle sat on top of the stove—the low flame illuminating the room just a tad brighter.

He didn’t seem surprised to see you, nor did he have any outward reaction to the fact that you’re wearing an attendant’s uniform. Instead, he leaned across the wooden surface, sighing. 

“Well that’s just disappointing,” he lamented. “I really rooted for you, you know. Hope you’d give it up and leave once you’ve gotten a taste of milady’s kindness.” 

You kept your lips sealed, straightening yourself as you sauntered over to the sink. Your movements were quiet as you set down the bowl and chopsticks they’d given, and Thoma watched your every move.

You had absolutely no clue how he’d managed to sniff you out as quickly as he did, but if he wasn’t pinning you to the floor and tying you up yet, then you still had some leeway for escape. 

“I’ve already expected your arrival, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Thoma supplied. “You’re good at not leaving any tracks, but you aren’t exactly keen on concealing your presence. It’s almost like you wanted me to know what you were up to.”

Despite his friendly tone, you kept your silence—gaze roving around the kitchen for any clean-cut exits, only to realize there were none. 

You half-contemplated using the rest of your powdered crystal marrow to incapacitate him and make your escape. Though you’re yet to witness it firsthand, Thoma would definitely be worth something in a fight if he was the Kamisatos’ chief retainer.

The injuries you’d sustained from throwing it down with a bunch of mitachurls to look convincingly mangled weren’t all fake. If you were backed into a corner now, you’ll definitely lose.

But you reminded yourself that every dose you got your hands on was few and far in between. You didn’t want to risk your future kills for a momentary lapse in judgement. 

So, like any cornered animal, you did what was logical at that moment. 

You ran for your life.

.

.

. 

Or, at least tried to. 

Before you could even step out of the kitchen, Thoma was already on you—seizing both of your wrists and twisting them behind your back. Your jaw throbbed as he slammed your face against the wall, and no matter how hard you struggled, you couldn’t break free from his grip.

“Get your hands off me, guard dog,” you hissed, desperately trying to kick him in the groin as a last resort. 

Thoma let out another stupidly carefree laugh as he evaded your attempts at his family jewels. “Guard dog? That’s a new one. And you say it like it’s an insult.” 

“Fuck you!”

“Now, now. That’s not a very kind thing to say.” He pouted. “And milady was so insistent for me to be polite. Not so deserving now, are you?” 

Irritated, you considered spitting in his face, but remembered you had more tact than that. “So? Just kill me then. You already predicted I’d try to kill her, didn’t you?”

The moment you’d articulated the words, it struck you that Thoma was acting awfully calm about your blatant revelation. If it had been one of the other retainers, they’d probably be fuming at the knowledge.

Maybe they would’ve called the police by now. Worse, they’d have you executed on the spot. 

But this man didn’t look like a fiercely loyal retainer who prioritized the well-being of his charge above all else. As you struggled to get a look at him from the impossible position he’d pinned you with, Thoma flashed you a conspiratorial grin that gave you the creeps. 

“Killing you would be too easy, don’t you think?” the chief retainer sighed. “And besides, milady seems to have taken a liking to you. She’s never met a member of the resistance before. She even wondered over dinner if you two could be friends.” 

You clicked your tongue. “I thought you already knew that I wasn’t—”

“Yes, yes. I knew you were a fraud the moment you answered my questions earlier,” Thoma interjected with a chuckle. “No bona fide member of the resistance would give away sensitive information like that so freely. They’d rather kill themselves first before revealing the strategies of Her Excellency, Sangonomiya.”

Oh. So that’s how he figured out.

“Okay, so my acting could be a bit better,” you began snarkily. “But what does it matter now? You caught me. The Almighty chief retainer of the Kamisato household has caught another mouse in the trap. Now could you please just get to the part where you lead me down to the gallows to commit seppuku?” 

You were stalling. No one with a survival instinct as desperate as yours would easily resign themselves to a soundless execution.

In reality, you were wiggling an arm out of his grasp in an attempt to reach for the feather tucked in the folds of your stolen obi. Thoma held you conveniently close to the stove, and if you could just toss it into the low flame—

“Hm? But what if it isn’t my intention to have you killed at all?”

That made you pause.

As if to prove a point, Thoma unhanded you and put his palms up in faux-surrender. You scoffed as you rubbed your face. 

“Look, I knew you’ve been scouting the area for days now, and you basically just admitted to your own intentions on milady’s life,” he elaborated. “I also knew that this place is too tightly guarded for you to execute your plans as smoothly as you liked. So you had to carry out your mission in the most roundabout way possible.” 

“Yes, yes. Of course, of course,” you spat sarcastically. “If you’re so smart and all-knowing, just cut to the damn chase.” 

Thoma let out another laugh, and you were so close to sacrificing your last stash of powdered crystal marrow just to see him drop dead.

“The point is, even if I know all these things…milady doesn’t.” 

“...I don’t follow.”

Sighing, Thoma leaned against the counter with another disdainful sigh. “I’m offering you an alternative, Miss Kira. Heh. Even the name you picked was a dead giveaway. Seriously? A name that means kill?” 

You clicked your tongue. “What alternative are we speaking of again?” 

This time, the chief retainer flashed you a look that made you feel like he was mocking you. 

“I’ll forget all the information you just revealed to me tonight. I’ll pretend as if our…altercation never happened.” He listed each condition on his fingers before pointing at your stolen garbs. “And I’ll even deal with the poor attendant whose clothes you nabbed. I’m sure I can bribe her into keeping her silence.”

Not liking how good the odds were for you if Thoma simply feigned ignorance like that, you asked, “What do you want in return?” 

What came out of his mouth in the next moment, however, was probably the most ridiculous job you’d ever been saddled with in your life. It put Kujou Masanori’s orders to utter, absolute shame.

“Well, it’s very simple, actually.” Thoma grinned. “I want you to be…milady’s friend.”

next ->

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin fanfiction #thoma fanfic #thoma smut #genshin x reader #thoma x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin thoma #cryoculus #guard dog

[maukree]

"He makes me sleep with him," Peter blurts out. He's so tired, his brain's filter is practically non-existent.

Mr. Stark, who's been tinkering with something that looks alarmingly like a miniaturized nuclear reactor, drops it with a loud clank. He turns around so fast, Peter's half-convinced he's going to get whiplash just from watching.

"Care to run that by me again?"

Oh, fuck.

"What? No! Jesus," Peter waves his arm, trying to backtrack from the conversational cliff he's just hurled himself off. "Not like that."

or

The one where Peter has night terrors, Bucky is simultaneously the least difficult and the most confusing man in the compound, and everyone's a good bro.

#winterspider #bucky x peter #bucky barnes #peter parker #sharing a bed

[mimi-ya]

countdown ~ zoro x reader

2,900 words | she/her, f!body | nsfw

summary: he's been waiting his entire life for this moment (timer that counts down to soulmates meeting)

a/n: @missallsundayy do you even remember requesting this? well you did, and i had so much fun with it!

masterlist | soulmate event

Zoro was starting to worry his crew.

It started when Nami noticed Zoro was spending his nights in the crows nest. And then Chopper became concerned when Zoro had upped his exercise regime to inhuman amounts. Sanji was getting annoyed when the moss head barely took a break to eat. Even Luffy had taken notice.

And Luffy never notices anything.

“Zoroooo!” Luffy rolled across grass, “C’mon, I’m bored!”

Zoro didn’t take his eyes off his sword, slicing the air with practiced precision, “Training.”

“What about later?”

“More training.”

“Ugh!” Luffy cries, gaining the attention from his crew, “Why are you training so much!”

“My fight is next week.” Zoro swings his sword.

“Fight?” Luffy pops up, “Who are we fighting?”

The rest of the crew stopped what they were doing, looking to the swordsman for his answer. This dramatically increased training had been going on for almost a month without an explanation until now. They each lean forward, obvious interest written across their face, only to be disappointed when Zoro answers-

“Don’t know.”

Luffy lets out an annoyed groan, melting back into the ground.

“Then how do you know there’ll be a fight?” Chopper appears at Zoro’s side, and his question finally gets Zoro to put down his sword for the first time all day. Zoro’s always had a soft spot for the reindeer.

“It’s my time.” Zoro says, bending at the knee to show Chopper his timer.

“Are you kidding me?” Nami screeches from her lounge chair, “That’s what you’re talking about?”

“But Zoro?” Chopper puts a hoof to his chin, “I don’t think you’re supposed to fight them.”

“I have to.” Zoro answer. He can’t be the greatest swordsman if he hasn’t beaten the one destined to fight him.

“Don’t listen to him Chopper!” Nami stomps over, “Zoro doesn’t know what he’s talking about and in a week he’s gonna look like a huge idiot!” She gives the swordsman a flick to the forehead for good measure.

“I don’t have time for this, witch!” Zoro spits, grip tightening around his sword.

“You’re really going to challenge your soulmate to a duel?” Nami crosses her arms, “That’s not what they’re for!”

“I think it’s sweet.” Robin pipes in, setting her book down in her lap, “There’s no conclusive explanation as to what these timer’s indicate. Why, I think our captain is a perfect example of that.”

Robin sprouts an extra hand from Luffy’s back, earning a laugh as it takes his wrist to show off the dozen timers, a majority of which have already counted down to zero.

“They can be our family, friends, loves.” Robin’s eyes slide to Franky who’s tinkering with a metal contraption, “A sense of belonging. And for Zoro,” She looks back to the swordsman who’s returned to his exercise, “His greatest fight.”

.

Zoro sits on the edge of the cliff and waits.

The day he’s been anticipating is finally here.

After years of preparation, he’s as ready as he’ll ever be. With his swords laid out in front of his crossed legs, a refreshed body and mind, there’s nothing left to do but wait. And wait.

And wait.

He supposes he could look at his timer. He had covered it up a few days ago, willing to give you the element of surprise.

Zoro smirks to himself. It was the least he could do.

He’s broken from his thoughts when a scream cuts the silence of the forest, “Ahhhhh!”

“The hell?” Zoro grabs a sword and gets to his feet, spotting a small dot in the sun rays.

“Ahhhhh!”

He squints, “Wait a minute.” Is that dot getting bigger?

“Ahhhhh!”

“Oof!” Zoro grunts, getting thrown to the ground when something collides into him.

The person on top groans, squishing Zoro’s face as they try to sit up, “Thanks for breaking my fall.”

Zoro snarls, quickly pushing the person to the ground as he scrambles to his feet. He readies his sword faster than he ever has; the blade pointed at their head.

“You here for a fight?”

The man on the ground lets out a pained moan, “Fight?” He rolls over to meet the stare of Zoro’s sword, knocking it out of his face, “I just finished getting my ass kicked.” The man groans pitifully, throwing an arm over his face. His body is already marred with bruises and cuts, tears in his clothing.

He isn’t the one.

Zoro growls, “I don’t have time for this.” He sheathes his sword, “If you’re not here to fight then get out of my way.” He walks back towards his spot, ready to continue his mediation until his opponent arrived but of course-

“Is it them?” A voice whispers from behind.

“Why aren’t they fighting? I thought they were supposed to fight.”

“What’s he doing!”

Zoro scowls as the voices carry from the bushes.

“Idiot probably wised up.”

“Impressive.”

Zoro’s patience finally snaps as he turns to the forest, “I can hear you!”

Not a moment later Luffy bursts out of the foliage, “Zoroooo! This is taking too long and I’m hungry.”

“No one said you had to be here! None of you have to be here!”

As if on cue, the rest of Strawhats pop out of their hiding places.

“Nice catch, moss head.” Sanji croons, giving the man on the ground a nudge with his foot.

“It’s not them, you shitty cook!” Zoro growls back.

“Oi.” Luffy pokes the man in the cheek, “You come from Sky Island?”

“Luffy!” Chopper slaps his hand, “Knock it off!” The little reindeer turns his attention to the man, “Are you okay? Do you need your injuries checked?”

“Hah?” The man looks at Chopper, “A talking racoon dog? She must have knocked me out harder than I thought.”

Chopper lets out a noise of indignation, stomping his foot, “I’m a reindeer!”

Robin takes a step closer, “Did someone cause you to land here?”

“That damn restaurant boat.” The man sits up, rubbing at his head, “Thought I could take her on myself.”

“A restaurant boat?” Sanji and Luffy perk up.

“Please no.” Zoro mutters, examining his blades, “Last time we went to one of those we got stuck with a shitty cook.”

Sanji lets out a growl, “Won’t need to wait for your soulmate cause I’ll kick your ass right now!”

“I could use a warm up!” Zoro shouts back, but before they can go any farther Nami pushes between them.

“But there’s no boats on the coast except ours.” Nami crosses her arms, waiting for an explanation.

“Oh!” The man laughs, unsteadily getting to his feet, “Hades Blade is on the other side of the island! I think this is the furthest she’s sent me flying so far!”

“Thought you said it was a restaurant boat?”

“Oh, it is!” The man dusts off his feet, “Doubles as a fighting pit too! My third time trying to win a meal from that chef.”

“You can fight and eat?” Luffy’s eyes go bright, and he latches on to Nami with drool down his chin, “Oh, can we go? Can we go? Can we go?!”

.

“Why am I here again?” Zoro groans, following the rest of his crew onto the deck of Hades Blades.

The ship is painted a deep red, black sails rolled up to the top. There are dozens of people milling about. Some looking worser than others, and a few knocked out cold on the ground.

“Cause we’re gonna win!” Luffy exclaims, punching a fist into his hand, “Oi!” He screams into the crowded deck, “Who do I gotta fight around here for some food!”

Silence falls over the ship as everyone turns to stare at the newcomers.

“Uhmm Luffy.” Usopp whispers, “Maybe we shouldn’t draw attention like that.”

“But I’m hungry!” He screams out.

Too quick for most notice, a person leaps out from the crow’s nest.

But Zoro spots it.

They swing down on a rope, a blade drawn as they head right for Luffy’s back.

“Oi! Watch out!” Zoro calls, shoving his captain to the ground with not even a second to spare before the person lands right where Luffy was standing.

“Someone hungry for a fight?” You release the rope, letting it sling upwards. With a hand placed on your hip and a smile for the boy who’s face first on your deck.

“Hey!” Luffy cries, jumping up from the ground, “What’s that about!”

You cross your arms, “You called for a challenge, didn’t want to leave you waiting too long. Timeliness is a quality of a good chef.”

Luffy frowns, “Well I already have the best chef!”

“Is that so?” Your eyes quickly pass over the bunch before landing on the boy again, “So you a captain or something?”

Luffy pulls himself to his full height, chest puffed out, “Captain that’s gonna be king of the pirates!”

You raise a brow at his little show, “Alright. And what’s that got to do with you disturbing my patrons?” The knife twirling between your fingers, eyes narrowed.

A loud stomach growl cuts through the tension. Those surrounding the boy let out various groans of their own, one even slapping a hand to her head. “Uhh. Well, I’m kinda hungry.” Luffy slumps with a hand pressed to his stomach.

Laughter bubbles up from your stomach. This boys tenacity is something else, “I only cook for those I deem worthy of my food.”

Right as Luffy opens his mouth someone pushes him to the side.

“A real chef cooks for anyone who’s hungry.”

“Oh?” You stop your knife twirling, “And what would you know about being a real chef?”

There’s a guff of laughter but you don’t pay it any mind as the blonde man in front of you seems to light on fire with determination.

Oh, this was going to be easy.

“Well pirate king.” You glance back at the boy who started all this commotion, “If your little chef here can best me, I’ll let you eat your fill.”

“It’s on!” Luffy wraps an around on his chef, “Sanji’s can cook better than you ever could!”

“Who ever said anything about cooking?”

.

“Oh c’mon!” You scream over the cheers, “You all talk or what?!”

And here you were looking forward to a good fight.

Everyone else who had come to you over the last week had been pitiful at best. And you could see this man hand some skill to him. The entire crew probably.

But of course, now that the two of you were in the ring, your regulars cheering around you, he just had to back out.

Thought the two of you were going to cook, he said.

What a joke.

“A chef should only use his hands for cooking.”

You hold up your knife, slicing it against the cage just to hear the sweet sound of metal, “Sounds to me like you don’t have much confidence in your culinary skills.” A grin spreads across your lips, “Vegetable, fish, man. It all cuts the same to me.”

Sanji shoves a cigarette in his mouth, a shaky hand flicking at the lighter, “If you weren’t a lady, I’d flay you for the insult.”

“Oh?” You cock your head, “A failure of a chef and a fighter, I see.”

Jeers and boos fill the room, realization dawning on everyone there wouldn’t be a fight today.

“Ah, shut up!” Sanji screams in return.

Zoro watches as the stupid cook turns his back on you, and you easily kick him into the cage.

“If you’re not here to fight, get the hell out of my kitchen.”

“Sanji!” Luffy cries, shaking the cage fence, “You said you would win!”

Sanji stumbles down the steps, a crisscrossed imprint on his cheek from the metal wiring, “Yeah, well that’s before I knew I’d actually be fighting her.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Zoro smirks.

“Of course, you’d say something like that you brute!”

“Well, Strawhat?” You call from inside the ring, “I promised all you could eat if one of you could win!”

Luffy growls, ready to jump to his feet. He’ll take on anyone for food!

“Let me handle this one, captain.” Zoro presses a hand into Luffy’s shoulder, throwing a smug look at Sanji, “Show ya how it’s done.”

“Fine.” Luffy crosses his arms, “But you better do it fast, I’m hungry!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Zoro answers, pulling out two of his swords. No need to go all out on you just yet.

The crows cheers when they see Zoro walking up to the ring.

“Oh?” You turn with a smirk, “So someone from your crew is willing to fight?”

Zoro mirrors you with a feral grin, “Someone willing to win.” He corrects you.

You stand up a little straighter, both of you acknowledging the aura of strength coming from one another.

It sends a tingle down your spine, a heat that spreads throughout your entire being. Had a fight ever made you feel like this? Feel so alive?

But it’s not the fight that’s invoking this energy. When you move to slice your knives together, you notice the timer has counted down to zero.

A small gasp escapes your lips, and your head whips up to the man across from you.

His feral smile widens when you meet his challenged stare. Like he expected this to be your meeting.

The grin slowly creeps back onto your face. Alright. If it’s a fight he wants, it’s a fight he’ll get.

.

Your back slams against the wall with a gasp, “I totally won.”

“The hell you did.” Zoro growls, laying a trail of biting kisses down your neck.

“Had you pinned- hnng.” His leg finds a cozy spot between your legs, “In five minutes.”

He traps your hands against the wall, “And look at you now.”

“So, you admit it.” You grin, “Greatest swordsman my ass. Couldn’t even pair against my steak kni- oh fuck.” A groan escapes your lips as Zoro pushes his leg up further, rubbing your center over his muscled thigh.

“Quickest way I could get you here.” He mutters, his eyes trained on your face.

This is not how he was expecting his day to go.

The fight started off how he anticipated. Neither of you able to get an edge over the other, a continued clash of blades. But then there was a moment and he slipped up.

You had almost got him with that damn vegetable knife. If he had been half a second slower, it would have sliced right against his cheek. And instead of planning his next move, he thought of getting you a proper sword, showing you how to fight with something more capable than a kitchen tool.

It was this slipup that cost him the fight.

Not a second later you had kicked him to the ground, pouncing on him with both knives pointed at his throat and he had nowhere to go.

It was at that moment that he thought of something else.

“I think I’ll take my reward.” You twist your wrist against his thumb, easily freeing your hand from his hold. Fingers pressed into his shoulder, you push him to his knees.

“Fuck.” Zoro groans, working your pants open without complaint. Your fingers card through his hair as he helps your foot out of a pant leg.

And like all things in life, Zoro dives in headfirst. Literally.

“Oh!” Your voice is a squeak and part of you is angry this man could pull such a noise from you so quickly, but the feeling is quickly replaced with need when he slings a thigh over his shoulder.

Zoro groans into your cunt, his tongue quickly moving over you. He’s never been so reaved up in his life. Whether it’s you, the fight, the timer, or combination of all three, his pants are becoming unbearably tight.

Finger digging deeper into your thigh, Zoro positions his mouth over your clit and gives a hard suck.

With a cry your head hits the wall behind you, hips rolling against his face as you chase your pathetically quick finish.

Zoro drinks up everything you give him, thirsty for more as he doesn’t let you out of his hold despite your squirming.

“Please!” You whine, trying to pull back but it’s impossible as your stuck in your position.

And Zoro’s too consumed to notice, not that he would care much either. He’s overwhelmed with your taste and smell, mind filled with thoughts of getting you bent over that kitchen counter so he can really get a feel for ya.

But before he can get any further, a harsh shove casues Zoro to fall to the ground. He doesn’t miss a beat as his eyes ravage your body and tongue licking his lips.

You reach for your pants, quickly pulling them up your shaky legs.

“That it?” Zoro asks, not moving from his spot on the ground but smugness dripping from his word.

“I have a restaurant to run.” You button your pants, “I can’t be leaving my customers hungry.”

“And what about me?”

“What?” You cock your head with a smirk, “That meal wasn’t enough?”

.BONUS.

“I don’t get it.”

Zoro pinches the bridge of his nose, “We leave behind shitty cook and take her with instead!”

Luffy frowns, “But why can’t we have two chefs?”

“We don’t need two chefs.”

“I don’t know Zoro, I can eat lot.”

“Luffy, you’re missing the point.”

#zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #op x reader #one piece x reader

[rrxaiky]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 - 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄

GENSHIN: Scaramouche x GN! reader

WARNINGS/ TAGS: Fluff/Angst, Scara has ball joints, reader calls him 'Kuni', logic? What's that?, not beta read [ 1.3K WC ]

── I'LL MAKE SURE YOU DON'T FORGET.

A/N: Why am I writing at 12AM. This thing makes no sense but it's okay.

You met a weird boy a few years ago today while you sat near the cliffs, tinkering with some items and stargazing. He told you to just call him ‘Scaramouche’ or ‘Kunikuzushi’, his eyes were fixed on the starry skies as he spoke to you, the pretty indigo eyes glimmering with the shine of the stars. 

After that night, you saw him more and more often. Even on starless or cold winter nights, your heart would feel a surge of warmth as he approached you and asked what you were doing, and you’d respond with the same thing. You had been working on a planetarium for your room for months, so that you could enjoy the beauty of stars in the comfort of your room. 

It wouldn’t feel the same without the natural darkness of the unlit sky, but climbing up the hill every day would tire you out one day, so it would have to do on the days that you just didn’t want to go. 

It was a few years ago when you walked towards your usual spot that you saw Scaramouche already sitting there. You knew that he didn’t like the stars as much as you did, and yet there he was. His gaze pierced yours when he heard your footsteps behind him, and he opened his mouth to speak. “I was waiting for you here yesterday, but you never came. Where were you?” 

He was waiting for you? Scaramouche breathed out a cold huff of air, sitting back down and patting the seat beside him. You quickly put your things out and looked over at him before you planned to start. Though, your eyes had wandered to his hand that rested on the ground, and you saw… A loose joint? Didn’t you just fix one a few weeks back?

“Kuni?” “Yes?” “One of the joints on your hand is loose again.” He held his hand up to his face, then asked if you could help him fix it, just like before. He could feel it. The coldness of your usually warm hands enveloping his, gently fixing the joint back into its place before the chilly feeling of your palms disappeared as you pulled away. 

It was a few years ago when you confessed to Scaramouche. Standing in front of the setting sun which turned the sky into the familiar dark hues you were used to being under with him. 

This time, one of your hands was under his, fingers clasping around each other as you spun the globe of the planetarium around with your free hand. You were finally done with it. The hours of effort that you had put in weren’t in vain after all. You tightened the grip around his hand, squeezing it a little, as if you were afraid that he’d disappear when you let go.

You heard the soft sighs of contentment and you could see the smile on his face when you did that. One more thing you noticed was the warmth in the eyes you loved so much, their reflection holding the shine of the brightest stars in the sky. 

Scaramouche knew very well that he’d outlive you. You’d forget him eventually, wouldn’t you? But, your lover was a selfish person. He wanted you to remember at least a little bit of him. It was okay if his name slipped out of your mind one day, or if you forgot the way his joints brushed against your skin, he thought. 

Even if one day you forget about him, he’ll still remember you. So, until then, he’ll look into your eyes so you can have the shape, the colour, and the warmth engraved into your mind.

Finally, it was also quite a while ago when Scaramouche stopped going to your usual place. It just didn’t feel the same anymore. You were so used to having him beside you, that one day, you found yourself unable to bring yourself to go alone. 

How many days has it been? 

Without realising, your life had moved onto different chapters, and the thoughts of Scaramouche had been pushed to the back of your mind. The planetarium was covered by a cloth sitting at the edge of your room now, a painful reminder of someone you loved. 

You never knew why he left, or where he was. Your chest stung each time you thought of him, so all the memories that you had with him had been forcefully shut out by you. 

And one day without realising, you had forgotten what his laugh voice sounded like. There was a faint echo in your mind when it finally came to you. Was it soft? Or was it cold and mysterious? And after that came his touch. Back then, you felt the warmth of his hand every time you touched your own. Now, whenever you did so, you’re reminded of the cold feeling of your own hands, and sometimes, the cozy feeling it held.

Today, you found yourself laying on your bed. You didn’t want to go to sleep. You were scared that if you did, you’d forget all the remaining memories you had of him. 

Your cheek was squished against your pillow as you tried to stay awake, and a sudden voice, his? Voice had instantly made you lift your gaze to look. “It’s late. Sleep. I know you’re tired.” He was kneeling in front of your bed now. 

Was this really him? Or did you already fall asleep, and was this just a dream? It didn’t matter. You finally saw him again.

“Kuni?” Scaramouche smiled when you whispered his name under your breath, and he planted a kiss on your forehead. “I’m here, darling,” he said, using his thumb to caress your face as your eyelids grew heavier. 

“You aren’t going to be here when I wake up. I don’t want to forget-” your words were cut off by his chuckling, and he stood up and unveiled the cloth that covered your work, your planetarium. He placed it on your table and turned it on, letting constellations and bits of starlight shine on the walls and ceiling of your room. 

“You’re not okay with it either, are you?” you asked him after you found him clutching your body against his, the warmth you thought you had forgotten spreading throughout your entire being. “You don’t want me to forget about you,” you muttered. 

“No, I don’t. It’s true, I won’t be here when you wake up,” he couldn’t bring himself to look at your face as he spoke, letting his eyes wander to the artificial stars. They were dimmer than the ones you usually saw, maybe because of the condition of the planetarium after not being in use for a while. 

“You’ll forget about this dream when you wake up,” he said to you. Your eyes followed Scaramouche’s eyes onto the celestial bodies that you had created. Yes, still darker than those you adored. 

“I don’t want to,” you firmly replied. Then, you turned his head towards you and continued. “But even so, I don’t want to forget about your eyes.” “Tell me, do you think I’ll recognize your eyes when we meet again? They shine so brightly sometimes that I forget they’re yours,” you whispered, now snuggling into him. 

“Then I’ll make sure you remember them. Now then, goodnight, my love.” Another kiss was placed on your forehead as Scaramouche ended his sentence. That was the last thing you heard before your vision went dark, abandoning everything that had happened minutes ago. 

When you woke up again, you felt your cheeks damp. Why were you crying in your sleep? The only thing that clouded your mind right now was the soft hues of indigo. The coldness of your body didn’t feel as foreign anymore, and the whispers of the voice that had been erased from your mind now wandered around your mind as a part of you instead.

Now, among one of the many things that you were confused about, would be the worn out planetarium on your desk that still held a certain mellowness to the usually cold metal you had crafted it with, and the equally warm cloth that was folded neatly beside it.

RBs and follows appreciated!

#genshin #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche #wanderer #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi #genshin impact #genshin scenarios #kunikuzushi x reader #scara x reader

[crowns-of-violets-and-roses]

My non-fiction novelette-with-graphs is still going and slowed down by some additional data in Jason and Chris’s report. However, looking at that extra stuff and the cliff and several cases where it looks like the stats must be for a Chinese work but they have a Western name/work on them, there is a broad conclusion I’m putting here. I’ll probably temper it down a bit in the report. Yes, the stats were rigged. They were rigged at multiple stages during the process and haphazardly. It wasn’t a grand plan but at different points ballots, canonicalisation, counting, and eligibility were used to attempt to curate the balance of Hugo finalists between Western and Chinese finalists. That curation intentionally REDUCED the number of Chinese finalists (this is now extra clear if you look at the leaked eligibility lists) and boosted the vote totals of primarily English-language finalists. I believe Best Novel, Best Novella and Best Series were rigged to ensure that the finalist list ONLY had English-language nominees to ensure that a Chinese work did not win those categories. I assume this was done to ensure the 2023 Hugo Awards would get international coverage. I assume shorter fiction was allowed to have some Chinese works to ensure some Chinese wins for internal media coverage. Similar actions took place sporadically through other categories, including some down ballot categories. The fudging, tinkering, and disqualifications were done shoddily but with intent that was not in good faith or in the spirit of the Hugo Awards. I think that is undeniable looking at the detailed insights we now have on the eligibility process and I assume the ballot counting was done in a similar spirit. I can’t prove that but I think the combination of numerical oddities and what we can see of the inner workings of the 2023 Hugo Award from the leaks, makes this the best match for the actual outcome. Quite what was going through Dave McCarty’s head, I don’t know. I assume he thought he could manage to keep all these plates spinning and I guess he did up to the award ceremony. I remain astonished that he released these stats at all and the only explanation is that he genuinely has convinced himself that his own rationalisation (as seen in Chris Barkley’s interview) are correct.

#hugo awards #I have seen suggestions that the elimination of Chinese works was in part motivated by people involved in Worldcon being rival publishers #and eliminating competitors from the awards #which seems potentially plausible #but other than that this seems like the most likely explanation

[dellohii]

i saw that one post saying "why did fwhips parents name him failwhip" so heres my little take on that! sorry if its like poorly written its 5 am and i habe to be awake in an hour lol ((cw for angst & slight bits of self deprecation at the end))

Their parents hadn't expected two children at once—yes, families in the Grimlands typically had more than one child, but twins were rare.

As royal families usually go, the eldest child would be the ruler. That was tradition. They saw the younger as a backup, as lesser than his sister, even if they were born mere minutes apart.

The children had been named GeminiTay and FailWhip.

In his childhood, FailWhip's parents paid less attention to him, focusing on his sister. That was okay, he had more time to himself. He would make things out of sticks and rocks and grass in the courtyard to keep himself entertained. Eventually, he graduated to helping tinkerers in the forges of the Grimlands, even making his own inventions.

His parents only ever scowled and said he needed not to be playing with fire, ash, and soot.

He never understood why exactly GeminiTay had more of their parent's attention, more of their affection. It felt isolating, though.

GeminiTay had less time to herself, being trained in things such as manners, politics, even languages of other nations. FailWhip had the same training, but less. Which meant less time to learn the things his sister was.

They were close, despite the fact. The older would sometimes teach her brother things she learned, things he hadn't.

He would give her trinkets he had created in return, one being an earring—a red crystal attatched to a golden chain. He made himself one to match.

One night, GeminiTay had said she had a nickname for her bother. fWhip.

He smiled at the name, and gave her one: Gem.

They called eachother the nicknames when their parents weren't in earshot. Their parents didn't react well to them. fWhip aleays wondered why.

He learned when Gem left.

He didn't know why she did, or where she went. All he knew was that he was now to take her place.

When he made a mistake, his parents made sure he knew.

"This is why your name is FailWhip," they would say, "because it's all you seem to do."

He wasn't sure whether to cry or be relieved when they passed. He was sixteen, and alone in a castle that'd been deemed "too good" for a failure.

So when he was crowned ruler, he chose the title of Count. A title less than King.

Because he would never be King fWhip, no. He was Count FailWhip, never meant to be king.

(Later, he would meet a wizard in the Crystal Cliffs, one who he had given a red crystal earring to as a child. And his would still match.)

#loosely based on umbrifys post btw ! theyre the one who got me thinkin abt this #ft me projecting bc i am also the younger twin #empires smp #fwhip #geminitay #empires smp s1 #my ramblings

[lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers]

Tell me how we're supposed to live as our homes die in front of our eyes.

#Cornwall #Cornish Politics #second homes #air bnb #fuck your second home #kernow

[mariacallous]

Alone in the darkness of the drawing-room, Smiley also waited, sitting in the housekeeper’s uncomfortable chair, his head propped awkwardly against the earpiece of the telephone. Occasionally he would mutter something and Mendel would mutter back; most of the time they shared the silence. His mood was subdued, even a little glum. Like an actor, he had a sense of approaching anti¬ climax before the curtain went up, a sense of great things dwindling to a small, mean end; as death itself seemed small and mean to him after the struggles of his life. He had no sense of conquest that he knew of. His thoughts, as often when he was afraid, concerned people. He had no theories or judgements in particular. He simply wondered how everyone would be affected; and he felt responsible. He thought of Jim and Sam and Max and Connie and Jerry Westerby, and personal loyalties all broken; in a separate category he thought of Ann and the hopeless dislocation of their talk on the Cornish cliffs; he wondered whether there was any love between human beings that did not rest upon some sort of self-delusion; he wished he could just get up and walk out before it happened, but he couldn’t. He worried, in a quite paternal way, about Guillam, and wondered how he would take the late strains of growing up. He thought again of the day he buried Control. He thought about treason and wondered whether there was mindless treason in the same way, supposedly, as there was mindless violence. It worried him that he felt so bankrupt; that whatever intellectual or philosophical precepts he clung to broke down entirely now that he was faced with the human situation.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy by John le Carré

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Does he still love me?

I’ve been feeling for a while that Runaan and Tinker argued before he and Rayla left on their mission. Argued hard, over him taking Rayla with him. Maybe over other things, too--the mission itself and some less-related issues. Behaviors. How, from Tinker’s perspective, Runaan always does what he’s told. Never thinks for himself. Refuses to accept responsibility for what he does, for the results of his own actions. (The Dragon Queen this, the Dragon Queen that) How he’s going to take Rayla, a fifteen-year-old unblooded assassin, on an assassination mission, because he can’t think his way out of it, and on some level doesn’t want to. How can he sit there and think that anything about that decision is okay? Because he’s not deciding. He’s abstaining. He’s dodging, using that DEX 18 for things it was never meant to be used on.

“Runaan, you can dodge swords and arrows all night long, but you can’t dodge this responsibility. You’ll get Rayla killed! You know she’s not ready!”

And Runaan just. Can’t. See. Where Tinker is coming from. He can’t. He’s trained himself too long to be hard enough to do whatever it takes, and that means shutting a lot of options out. He can be flexible as hell on missions, in every way possible. But he can’t think himself out of a wet paper bag when it comes to civilian decisions. Runaan’s honest-to-the-moon too hard. 

Runaan and Tinker have often understood each other on several levels at once, and even when they don’t really see where the other is coming from, they trust each other. Moonshadows earn trust slowly, but they keep it close to their hearts once they have it. These two have been through a lot together. But Runaan taking Rayla on this mission was just too much for Tinker. He couldn’t stretch his mind far enough to see what Runaan saw, and that scared him. Runaan had a place so quiet and deadly, so calculating, that Tinker couldn’t reach it. Couldn’t reach him when he went there. (this is where VIren lives, btw, that cold, calculating place--Runaan can absolutely go there too)  And Tinker had to decide: Do I turn cold and calculating in order to understand Runaan, or so I draw a line?

Tinker drew the line. Runaan’s the Slytherin, and Tinker’s the Ravenclaw. Only one of these will do whatever it takes, at any cost, and that’s the point where they found themselves. That’s the point where Tinker had to step back and say No. He wasn’t willing to risk Rayla’s life, even if Rayla was. That’s not how you treat your child. But in that moment, saying No to Rayla’s mission meant saying No to Runaan’s plan, and to Runaan. The plan to take Rayla was a reflection of who Runaan is. Runaan felt rejected along with his plan when Tinker objected. 

And so they argued. Maybe they separated. Do Moonshadows break up? Separate? Divorce? Somehow these words don’t seem nearly dramatic enough for the breaking of such a hard-won trust between two elves who love each other deeply, but who fundamentally disagree. What did they do?

*whispers* Runaan, Tinker, what did you do?

Does Rayla know? I guess we’ll find out. But at some point before Runaan’s lotus sank, Tinker lost a stripe on his right arm, a gem from his left horn, and the ringed horn tips he was wearing earlier. Did he set them aside with cool logic and hope that Runaan would come to his senses? Did he yank them off, pry that gem out with a screwdriver, and throw them all off a cliff into a raging river? Did he cry? Did he lock himself in his workshop and build things for a week straight? Did he protest the mission, yell at the Dragon Queen? 

A few lyrics selections from their songs:

(Tinker) [”I Am All That I Need,” Fleet Foxes] So it's true, I've gone too far to find you And the thumbprint scar I let define you Was a myth I made you measure up to It was all just water, winding by you 

(Runaan) [”Kiss From a Rose,” Seal] I've been kissed by a rose on the grey And if I should fall, will it all go away? 

(Tinker) [”Quelqu’un M’a Dit,” Carla Bruni] I am told that destiny is making fun of us It doesn't give us anything and it promise us everything It appears that happiness is within reach So we reach out and we find ourselves crazy However someone told me that you still love me It is someone that told me that you still love me Would it be possible then?

(Runaan)  [Full Moon,” The Black Ghosts] 'Cause all I want is here and now but it's already been and gone Our intentions always last that bit too long Far far away, no voices sounding No one around me and you're still there Far far away,

[unfinished tdp meta]

#runaan #tinker #runaan x tinker #tdp theory #tdp s3 theory #release the drafts #omg he's still tinker in this draft what the heck it's so ancient

[ice-cap-k]

Just Gold CH 1

Didn't have time to think of a better title.

Cross-posted to AO3 Here: Just Gold

Chapter 2 Here

___________________________________________________

Tango was a dragon.

That's not to say he was very good at being a dragon, but that was what he was. Unlike most dragons, he was not content to sit in a cave all day and hoard gold. 

Sure, he didn’t mind sticking to one place for very long, but he enjoyed company. He enjoyed going out into the world on occasion to see how the world grew and changed. The idea of slow-roasting knights and hunters didn’t have much appeal to him.

He cared not for precious metals or diamonds either. Gold's value didn't account for much more than pretty trinkets and jewelry. It was too soft and flimsy. The metal itself could conduct heat and electricity, but there other materials that could do it far better. Diamonds had an impressive hardness but were difficult to shape. 

He would much rather hoard iron and this interesting crystal that appeared to glow red in the depths of his mountain. They were useful if you just took the time to learn about it. As a dragon, he was immortal. He had all the time in the world to learn and tinker and create.

 And oh the things he could create. His lair was built of redstone powder laid out in intricate networks that sent signals around his home. He had discovered automated doors and electric lights long before humans could have. With iron, a highly conductive material that was both durable and easily shaped, these components could be rearranged to make just about anything possible. As a bonus, he could venture out into the world to find it. 

Unfortunately, Tango was still a dragon. 

The gold and red scales were kind of hard to miss. And dragons had reputations.

When humans saw Tango, they didn’t stop to get to know him. They didn’t take the chance to realize he wasn’t interested in burning down towns or kidnapping unsuspecting victims. They drew their swords so they could attack him first. 

Some were just afraid. Some wanted the glory of slaying a dragon. Some just thought he had gold to steal. 

He supposed he might have ventured out a few too many times. There had been whispers among the human villages of a dragon exploring the cliff sides with eyes as red as burning coals and a fire in its belly that wilted the plants as it flew past. Where there were rumors, there were those willing to bet on their truth and capitalize on it.

One day, while roaming the base of a nearby mountain, Tango stumbled into a trap. He was there checking the mountain for anything of use: be it coal for burning and lighting spaces, iron to shape in his forge, or even a copse of trees to cut down and fashion into tools. There hadn’t been any humans nearby for days and he thought that they might have finally forgotten about him until he stepped under an overhanging granite ledge. It was a quick fuse trap that was built to go off when something as large and warm as he came in close proximity. The moment he passed under the rocky outcropping, the fuse lit. There was one small moment where he heard the sizzle, his heart stopped as he realized his mistake, and then everything went white.

The blast tore a hole into the very side of the mountain. Fire and ash hit his side. It burned his throat and lungs as he instinctively drew in breath. The obliterated stone bounced off his scales. The force of the explosion knocked him rolling down the mountain to the valley below. He batted his wings in a vain attempt to slow himself down but only managed to catch them painfully against the sides of the trees as he rolled past. 

Tango passed out before he had even come to a stop. 

__________________________________________________

“Hey, are you alright?”

Tango was most certainly not alright. Everything hurt. His eyes felt heavy. Please, just let him sleep a little longer…

“Oh man, don’t go to sleep now. Not when you’re hurt like that. Geezus, can you even hear me?”

Yeah. He could hear that voice, but he wished he didn’t. He wished he could go back to the sweet, oblivious darkness. However, whatever that thing was poking at his shoulder wasn’t making it easy. 

Tango rolled slightly, hoping to knock whatever it was off of himself. That slight motion sent dull aches rolling throughout his back and legs in waves. He groaned and braced himself against the pain, all his muscles tensing against the awful feeling. 

“Alright. Good. You’re waking up. You’re pretty hurt, but maybe you can move. Can you move, huh?”

Could Tango move? He tried opening his eyes first. Just cracking open the lids felt like an uphill battle. The world outside looked blurry. At first, he was afraid maybe the blast had gotten something in his eyes and blinded him, but to his relief, the smear of colors began to slowly sharpen back into focus. 

He was lying at the bottom of a valley out in the open. There weren’t any trees for miles. Just rocky outcrops and grassy patches. From this position, he could make out the scar in the Earth leading from where he lay to the crater halfway up the mountain. 

“I’m fine.” The dragon’s voice sounded shaky to his own ears. He flexed one arm to reach out with a claw and winched as the motion sent shocks of pain up his shoulder. Gold ichor dripped down into torn-up soil beneath him. 

“No, you’re not. You are most definitely not fine.”

Where was that voice coming from? Tango looked back and forth, careful not to pull on the open wounds on his side. Turns out, he had a lot. 

“Look, I’ll admit I don’t know much about dragons, but I don’t think anything with wings is supposed to come crashing down a mountain so violently.”

Tango’s red eyes snapped to the place over his shoulder where the voice was coming from. To his surprise, the only thing that was there was a small yellow bird. It sat on the place where his arm met the shoulder. The yellow feathers along its back and head were puffed up and its wings splayed out in distress as it hopped around a gap in Tango’s scales large enough for the little bird to fit into. The gold blood around its feet streaked down Tango’s side. “Hey, shoo! Shoo!” Tango snorted, sending a breath of hot air at the little bird to scare it off. He didn’t want it getting too close to the open wound and making it worse.

“Rude!” the bird squawked.

Tango nearly jumped out of his scales in surprise when the bird spoke, which he instantly regretted when all the bruised and sore muscles screamed in protest. Some of the charred scales on his back even fell away, looking more like withered black petals than the lustrous armor they had once been. “You can talk!?”

“Of course I can talk,” the bird snapped, hopping further up Tango’s shoulder. “Just like I can see, and even a blind man could see that you’re in a bad spot here. What happened?”

The bird was talking. The bird was talking and he wanted to know how a dragon had gotten itself hurt. Tango answered, too baffled to do much else. “I was going through the crevice, and then something exploded behind me.” The dragon’s eyes went back up to the gouge in the mountain where he had been standing not long ago. “There was no avoiding it.”

“Right, well, you definitely crashed into my nest.” The bird’s feathers began to smooth themselves. It spread its wings further before beating them down in unison, flying up to Tango’s horn in a flutter of bright yellow.

“I’m sorry,” Tango said almost instantly, fighting the urge to shake his head. The bird didn’t weigh much, but it made his head feel ever-so-slightly off balance. 

“It’s alright. You have bigger things to worry about, like that human village on the other side of the valley.” With a crick in his neck, Tango turned to where the bird was pointing with a wingtip. Sure enough, he could make out a few rooftops poking up out of a spruce-covered edge of the mountain lining the opposite side of the valley. Now, mountain ranges have a tendency to make things seem closer than they actually are. That village was probably half a few hour’s flight from where he lay at the bottom of the valley. Maybe a few day’s travel if he were to go by foot, but there wasn’t much cover down here. Someone had probably seen him by now. And if they hadn’t seen him, they would have heard the explosion.

One of the people from that village had probably set up the trap.

“Oh, man. Not good. How long was I out for?”

“Maybe half an hour, but about five minutes ago I saw someone climbing down that cliff. A human. If I remember correctly, humans and dragons don’t really mix.”

Tango sighed. “No. No they don’t.” He had to move. He didn’t want to, but it was better than waiting and risking the alternative. So he dug his claws into the ground and heaved. The bird fluttered with the motion but managed to hang on to his horn. The burn on his back flared up like a bonfire. The gouges in his scales left shallow glittering pools of his blood along the ground. And when he finally managed to right himself, he finally became aware of a dull throbbing sensation along the arm of his wings. 

He attempted to spread his wings. The motion sent pins and needles running down the muscles of his shoulder and wing fingers. It was so sharp that Tango had to immediately pull them back to rest against his back. 

“Oh, mate…” The bird ran one of its own wings along Tango’s head comfortingly.

“It’s Tango,” the dragon huffed, trying to keep his nervousness from leaking into his voice. When he looked over his shoulder, he realized that he wouldn’t be flying for a long while.

The forearms were misshapen, bent at wrong angles where they had been broken in different places. It was harder to tell with the wing fingers, but by the throbbing coming from at least two of them, it was likely there were a few bones broken there as well. The membrane stretched between each finger was ragged, ripped, and bleeding. 

“I can’t fly. I can’t fly!” Despite the soreness, Tango nervously shuffled his feet. He looked all around as if expecting angry humans to start appearing all around him. “How am I going to get back home?”

“You live far from here?”

“On the other side of that mountain.” Tango tilted his head back the way he had fallen for the bird to see. That explosion was uncomfortably close to the mouth of his cave. His thoughts went to his own hoard of red dust and hoppers and dispensers. The ice-cold cavern felt good against his warm scales. A cozy dip in the stone worn smooth from centuries of him curling up to sleep. It would take days to get back there on foot. 

“Well, I know a place you can go to stay until you get yourself healed up, Tango.”

“You do?”

It hopped down onto Tango’s nose and pointed with one wing towards a grassy shelf reaching out from the east side of the mountain. “Yeah! There’s an abandoned building large enough for you to fit inside nestled between those rocks over there. Trust me, nobody goes there anymore. It should be fine until your wings can heal up a little.”

Tango nearly went cross-eyed trying to meet the bird’s gaze. “How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve been there before,” the bird trilled. “Now come on. You gotta get a move on before that human comes back.”

It had a point.

It was a bird. A talking bird, but still just a bird. He had no reason to believe it would be leading him into another trap.

“Okay, okay, I’m going. You’re right.” Tango stopped his nervous shuffling and started off in that direction. 

The bird looked pleased with itself as it waddled its way back up the bridge of Tango’s nose to its previous perch on his horn. It wrapped its toes around the ridges and settled down, looking content to ride along. Finally, Tango’s brain stopped to wonder why.  “Why are you here,” he asked as he plodded along.

“I told you, you crashed through my nest. I was already here.”

“Right. You did say that. Sorry about that again. But I’m still confuzzled. Why aren’t you mad? Why are you so worried about helping me?”

“I guess I sympathize,” the bird twittered. “Between the broken wings and that nasty fall… I couldn’t just fly away. You know?”

“I appreciate that.” Tango nodded slowly so as to not startle the bird. “Do I also take that to mean you’ve broken a wing before, uh-”

“Jimmy,” it offered quickly. “The name’s Jim. Heh, and yeah. Something like that.”

___________________________________________________________

The abandoned building Jimmy had mentioned turned out to be an old farmhouse and a barn. It looked like nobody had been there in years. The grassy shelf it stood on was lined with a collapsing fence that circled the overgrown field. The wood barn was greyed with age but had been built sturdily. It didn’t so much as groan when Tango bumped against the massive doorway with his tail. 

It smelled musty. The soft hay lining the ground had been there for years and was half rotten, but it was dry. When Tango settled down at the back of the structure, he found it oddly comfortable. 

As soon as he laid back down, Jimmy leaped from his place on Tango’s horn. His yellow wings caught the air and carried him to the post marking the corner of a nearby stall. “Now what did I tell you? This ranch is perfect for you to hide in.”

“It is really nice,” Tango rumbled, taking in his surroundings. “If I stay here for a while and get my hands on some iron and oak, I could really make something out of this place.”

“You know how to build?” Jimmy sounded shocked at that.

“A little,” Tango admitted, suddenly feeling a little sheepish. “You pick up a thing or two over the centuries.”

 “I didn’t know dragons did that sort of thing. Is that something that the rest of your kind do?”

“Oh, not really. Not that I know, at least. But I find it fun. There’s something really nice about making things that others will enjoy.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, like a library.” Tango’s thoughts turned to old memories made fond from nostalgia. If he closed his eyes, he could see rows and rows of books stacked under a dome of glittering stars. “I made one once, a long time ago. Back when I lived far from here. It was supposed to be a massive collection of everything. There were glittering lights and sweeping archways, and massive wings that seemed to lead from one side of the world to the other. When I was done building it, I moved on and people moved in. Humans mostly, but I remember seeing them from a distance. They had such big smiles on their faces when they first stepped through the doors. It was nice.”

“It sounds like it. Did those people know who made it?”

Tango shook his head. “There’s no way they would believe a fire-breathing beast built up a place for books. I don’t need the credit anyway. They’d probably just come after me.”

“Well, that’s a shame.” Jimmy readjusted his wings and narrowed his bright little eyes as he thought about what Tango had just said. “At least you sound proud of it. I’m no builder. I’m trying my best to get better at making things look nice, but I’ve still got a long way to go.”

“What about your nest?”

Jimmy’s head twitched back up. He tilted his beak to one side as he looked at Tango questioningly. “What about my nest?”

“You’ll have to rebuild it, won’t you? That’s a good place to start.”

The feathers on Jimmy’s head puffed up. “I suppose it is. Ey, would it be alright if I set it up here?”

“At this ranch?”

“In this barn! With you. I could keep you company, and help you find materials. I can try to help you build too, but no promises that what I make will turn out nice. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from you.” The words spilled out of his beak quickly as the little bird got caught up in his own excitement. He flitted from one stall to the other as if he couldn’t sit still. “If that’s okay with you, that is,” he says a little more nervously as he glides past Tango’s nose.  

Tango chuckled. “Sure. You can show me what you’ve got. Maybe there are some tips and tricks I can teach you.” He said that, but he wasn’t sure how that would work. Jimmy was a bird. Tango was a dragon. How a bird built with wings and a beak and claw-tipped feet would be vastly to what a dragon could do with claws and fangs and a tail. But Tango could appreciate the company. It had been a while since he had someone to talk to. 

Well… someone who didn’t want to stick a sword in his side, at least. 

“But are you sure,” Tango asked, starting to fiddle with a strand of hay caught under one of his scales. He didn’t want the bird to stay here out of pity or guilt. “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. I’m sure a bird like you has a whole flock of friends waiting for you somewhere.”

“No way!” Now Jimmy shook his head. Despite everything Tango had ever thought he knew about beaks, it almost looked like Jimmy was smiling up at him. “It’s not every day someone like me gets to know a dragon like you.”

__________________________________________________________

Life on the ranch was peaceful. Idyllic, even.

It was the first time in a long time that Tango had been out in the open so much. Jimmy had been right, humans didn’t really come near here. That meant Tango had free reign to explore the stretches of tall grass and the gravelly side of the mountain behind them. 

Jimmy often came with him on these long walks. The odd pair often found themselves talking about what they could do to fix the place up. And those conversations often spiraled into stories from their past. 

“No way.”

“Yes, way.”

“No way. There’s just no way a little bird like you survived getting hit with an arrow.”

“I did so! I am perfectly capable of handling myself, thank you very much.”

“Sure you are,” Tango snorted hot air, suppressing a chuckle at the indignant way the little bird turned up its beak at him. 

“I am. Those feathers didn’t grow back along my side for a week. It nearly messed up my ability to fly.”

“Well by the sound of it you weren’t the best at that either…”

“You take that back!”

Tango let himself laugh at that one.

Despite the odd start, the dragon found himself growing fond of the yellow bird. Jimmy was bright and cheery and took himself a little too seriously. He was also brash, forgetful, and had the worst luck Tango had ever seen. 

It wasn’t just you’re typical bird hijinks, though Jimmy was guilty of that too. It wasn’t just his odd need to bob in place, peck at something incessantly, or even pull at Tango’s smaller horns like they were some sort of toy. It was like he was accident-prone. 

The first time Jimmy had accidentally flown into the broken window into the side of the barn, Tango had chalked it up to bird eyes. He couldn’t blame Jimmy for not being physically capable of seeing glass. But then Jimmy had done it again. And then Jimmy had jumped off one of the stall posts and forgot he could fly. And then Jimmy got his foot caught under one of Tango’s scales. And then he hit the window again…

After about a week of rest and recuperation, Tango decided the main reason was that it was just Jimmy being Jimmy. Who was he to judge? It wasn’t like he was some sort of bird expert. 

It was Jimmy who first came up with the idea of making this place into a real ranch again. There were other animals that called the mountain home. Sturdy goats traversed the most sheer cliff faces. Mountain cattle with long horns plodded along the scrubby terrain. They could be raised for beef, milk, and mutton. Tango thought it was a great idea. He was already having difficulty hunting them on foot. Keeping plenty in a pen sounded much easier.

So they set out.

Jimmy went ahead and got a bird’s eye view, then returned to Tango’s horn to point the dragon in the right direction. He circled around the goats and cows. The animals already feared the growl of a dragon, so it was easy for Tango to spook them in the direction of their fields. Then Jimmy would step in, alighting from his perch to circle around goats and cows they had managed to get running in the right direction. They worked well together, running and flying along the herd, driving it down the mountain to the gate waiting open on the shelf.

________________________________________________________

The ranch was beautiful. 

Jimmy felt he was learning more every day he spent with Tango. The dragon was such a good builder! It made Jimmy’s jaw drop to see what he was capable of. The farmhouse now had an entire tower built up along the back, and a newly minted storage system lining what used to be a living room. 

And the dragon was so nice. Jimmy hadn’t wanted to do much building once he saw what Tango was capable of, but Tango insisted Jimmy work alongside him. He was grateful for the dragon’s coaching. As small as he was, it was difficult for him to lift some of the timber boards with his two wings, but Tango would be there to help him with the heavy lifting as soon as the dragon saw him trying. He talked Jimmy through the harder points, and explained why he thought different types of stone were good for decorative purposes and how you could follow certain patterns to create depth when layering wooden planks. 

Jimmy felt like he was actually learning something from Tango.

But there were also times when Jimmy had to wonder if Tango did things because he was a dragon, or because he was Tango.

He seemed to have a tendency to get caught up in big projects. That shouldn’t have surprised Jimmy, considering all the stories Tango had told of the buildings he had made, the inventions that had taken years to put together. He was patient. But Jimmy was surprised to learn that when Tango threw himself into a project, it engulfed him. 

“Tango, are you sure we need this?”

“Of course! With a new shed, we can start housing more tools and milk buckets.”

“We don’t have any milk buckets.”

“We will once I make some.”

“But Tango, I can’t milk a cow. Can you even milk a cow?”

The wings on Tango’s shoulders shifted. His version of a shrug. They were healing nicely after two weeks of being grounded. The homemade splints lining the bones up were holding strong but looked a little dingy from all the wear. “We’ll figure it out as we go.” 

And with that, Tango had walked off. Sometimes, it seemed to Jimmy like Tango couldn’t even hear him when he got like that. 

But when he finished work for the day and trudged back to his bed of hey in the barn, it was back to being all laughs and jokes.  They bounced wild ideas back and forth off of each other, turning the silliest things into something impressive in their own mind.

“That’s it,” Jimmy said, puffing up his chest feathers. “We’re going down to the valley tomorrow to find you some iron.”

“For a monument?” Tango sputtered, laughing so hard his tail was sweeping back and forth. “I love it. It’s so ridiculous, and such a waste of iron.”

“We can afford it,” Jimmy insisted. “And we’ve got the time to work on it. It’ll be fun. I’ll dig it up, and you’ll carry it.”

“How, pray tell, are you going to dig up iron, Jimmy?”

Tango’s red eyes went down to Jimmy’s clawed feet still wrapped around the wooden post. Jimmy nearly shrunk into his own feathers as he realized he might have gotten ahead of himself. “Ah, well, I will help dig up the iron.”

His friend chuckled. “That sounds about right.”

______________________________________________________

The ranch was under attack. 

Tango threw his side into the barn doors, keeping as far away as possible from the flames licking at the corners of the building. The boards buckled under his weight, but didn’t budge. The human’s outside must have blocked it.

They must have been spotted when they went on that mining trip in the valley. That was the only explanation he could think of. He should have known better. His gold scales would have stuck out like a sore thumb to anyone passing by amongst all that green and grey.

Jimmy flew in through the broken window and landed on his horn. “Come on, Tango,” he shouted. “You can do it! They’re right outside. If you can just get out of here-”

“I’m trying,” Tango hissed as he threw himself at the door once more. The freshly lacquered wood started to splinter and crack. He could hear shouts outside of the men with their pitchforks and torches at the ready. 

“You should fly, Jimmy. It’s me they’re after.”

“No way. You can’t fly yet. I’m not leaving you.”

“I’ve got my fire and my claws.”

“And you’ve got me!!”

With that, Jimmy shot like a yellow bullet out the window once more. Tango didn’t like the way the little bird had said that. It put a bad feeling in his gut. Once more, he threw himself against the door. Gaps appeared between the warped wood as it split further apart. He could see his attackers through them. Some tried poking iron swords and spears into the gaps, hoping to catch his side with their points.

He couldn’t throw himself against the door like that anymore with those blades poking out. So he switched tactics. He leaned back onto his tail and kicked out, careful to hit his heels against the parts of the door that didn’t have sharp objects pointed at him. 

Suddenly, some of the weapons fell away. They clattered to the ground on the other side of the door as shouts of anger turned into shouts of surprise. 

When Tango peaked through one of the gaps, he saw a little yellow blur dive-bombing some of the men’s heads.

“Jimmy!!”

“If you want to get at him, you’ll have to go through me first,” the little bird was crying.

Tango had had enough. Now that there were no swords in his way, nothing stopped him from flinging himself against the door one last time. The ruined hinges finally gave out, and the massive doors fell outward. There were screams as they landed on some of the humans outside. Tango could feel the uneven lay of the wood and the people underneath through his claws.

As soon as he was out, Jimmy returned to his horn. “We have to get to high ground!”

“I can’t climb the cliffs! They’re too steep!”

“The tower!”

The tower.

The humans were already starting to regain their footing as Tango made a break for the tower looming over the rest of the ranch. The one he had added to the old farmhouse. 

The humans were in hot pursuit when they reached the base. 

With a great leap, Tango launched himself up. His claws snagged on the uneven wooden planks as he hauled himself up.

“They’re gaining on us Tango!”

“I know! I know!”

Fiery arrows flashed through the night sky and buried themselves in the side of the farmhouse. The whole ranch would burn at this point. But the humans wouldn’t be able to get to them through the flames. If the structure could hold out until they left, Tango could hold off against the fire. Jimmy could always fly away to avoid the worst of the heat. 

Tango hauled himself to the top, sides heaving from the effort. He almost didn’t notice Jimmy fly from his horn. 

“They’re still here, Tango,” the bird twittered. “They’re circling the bottom. They’re burning the ranch. And our goats! They’ve taken the goats.”

Tango’s eyes followed the path of glowing arrows streaking through the night sky as he caught his breath. His lungs were burning from the effort of all that climbing. “Jimmy, get back down,” he managed after finally finding his words. “It’s dangerous along the edge.”

“But someone has to keep an eye on-”

The arrow hit Jimmy in the wing.

There was a burst of yellow feathers. Broken primaries and secondaries caught the rush of warm air coming from the blaze below like a puff of smoke, and then Jimmy fell from sight.

“JIMMY!”

Tango crawled to the edge of the tower wall just to watch the little bird drop into the patch of fire eating at the roof below. He didn’t even notice the arrows streaking past him as he dared poke his head over the side. He watched the little bird until Jimmy disappeared in the bright flicker of yellow and orange.

And then the yellow and orange faded as Tango saw red.

He dug his claws into the wood as he leaned out over the ledge of the tower. A massive roar built from the bottom of his belly and echoed out over the valley with all the ferociousness of a dragon out for blood. With it came a column of fire that lit the night and caught a forest on fire the next mountain over. 

Tango ignored the arrow that buried itself in his arm as he leaped down from the tower with claws outstretched. He was breathing so hard that he was wheezing. The fire in his belly burned bright when he opened his mouth. Fangs and claws glinted red from the light of the midnight fires as he lunged forward with more single-minded focus than he had ever had for a given project.

He was going to make them pay.

__________________________________________

“Tango…. Tango!”

He was breathing so hard that his chest hurt. Or was that another arrow? No, he couldn’t feel that yet. The adrenaline had yet to wear off. But the red was fading.

“Tango, stop! It’s over.”

It was over. Tango stood with claws dripping in blood. Red from the humans. Gold from his own wounds. There were charred lumps scattered across the front yard, no longer screaming from the burns. 

So much for avoiding humans.

Tango was vaguely aware of something pulling on his horn. When he rolled his eyes back, his stomach dropped at the sight of a familiar yellow bird.

“Jimmy,” he breathed. Red-hot tears of anger, relief, and confusion welled up in the corner of his eyes. That couldn’t be possible. Even if the arrow hadn’t killed Jimmy, the fall or the fire would have. “That’s not… I didn’t… How… How? You were dead.”

“I’m fine, Tango. See. I’m right here. You can stop now. I’m ok.”

“I don’t understand…”

“I’m a phoenix, ok?!”

Tango reached up, and Jimmy let go of his horn. The little yellow bird hopped onto the dragon’s wrist so Tango could hold him out and they could look each other in the eye. Jimmy looked flustered and a little scared. Scared of Tango, or scared of what he was about to say? It drove a stake of guilt through Tango’s own heart. He looked around the charred bodies littered around the yard, but not with shame. He wasn’t ashamed of his anger and what it had wrought. But he felt bad that he might have scared Jimmy.

“So… when you fell…?”

“I died,” Jimmy said shakily. “Wasn’t pleasant, I’ll tell you, but I came back. I always come back.”

Funnily enough, Tango believed him. So many of Jimmy’s stories involved such horrible mishaps, and on one or two occasions the little bird had hit the barn window so hard Tango had been surprised that he had been able to just shake it off.

It was strange to think about, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing Tango had ever heard of.

“I always thought Phoenix's were supposed to be big and fancy,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “You know…” He wiggled the fingers of his free hand as if that could help illustrate his point.

“I’m big,” Jimmy huffed indignantly. “And look at these feathers. They’re gorgeous!”

That got a real laugh out of Tango. “Sure thing, buddy.”

Jimmy ruffled his feathers and pouted, but didn’t try to argue any further. Instead, his bright black eyes turned to the charred remains of the farm house smoldering behind them.

“The ranch is gone, though. They’ve gone and burned it to the ground.”

“Well then,” Tango said, raising his hand back above his head. Jimmy hopped off so he could sit on his usual perch on Tango’s horn. The dragon began plodding towards the smoking remains of the barn with a smile on his face. “I suppose we’ll just have to rebuild.”

#whumptober 2023 #prompt no 28 #“you'll have to go through me” #trafficblr #double life #life series #creative writing #implied character death #dragon tangotek #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #canary jimmy #the ranch #team ranchers #dragon hunting #alternate universe - fantasy #alternate universe - dragon

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Plenty of Fish in the Sea | part 2

Riri Williams x BlackFem! Mermaid Reader. | Fluff | Slight nudity.

---

I blinked awake to the sun slicing through the blinds, casting stripes across our dorm room. The warmth on my face was nothing compared to the heat beside me. Riri was sprawled out on her bare stomach, drool edging her lip, equations and gadget parts scattered like breadcrumbs around her head. Genius even in sleep.

Stretching, I edged away from the tangle of sheets, careful not to disturb her. She’d been up until the early hours, tinkering with her latest invention, something to her suit watertight. “For when we have to dash,” she’d said with that lopsided grin that somehow always made my pulse quicken.

The floor was cool underfoot as I padded to the window, pulling it open to taste the salt on the breeze. The sea called like a siren’s song—my other half yearning for the caress of the waves. For a moment, I hesitated, watching Riri sleep, but the pull was too strong.

“Gonna catch some waves, babe,” I whispered, lips brushing her temple. “I'll be back soon.”

At the cliff edge, I checked to make sure no one was around before letting the transformation wash over me. A shiver, a shimmy, and where legs had been, my tail returned—scales glimmering cerulean and jade under the midday sun.

With a graceful dive, I was engulfed by the comforting embrace of the ocean. I laughed, bubbles escaping as I twirled and twisted, speaking the language of currents and tides.

Hours slipped away until I surfaced, still exhilarated. I floated on my back when I saw her, Riri, standing defiance at the water’s edge, in her high-tensile strength suit that could withstand the deep-sea pressure, looking like the superhero she often was without needing a suit at all.

“There you are,” she said. “Felt like joining you. Is that cool, or am I intruding?”

“Intrude away,” I beckoned. With a running leap and a backflip, she pierced the surface like an arrow. Few moments later, with a waterproof respirator in her mouth, she joined me, her brown eyes dancing behind the lens of her suit.

“No tech needed for you, huh?” she teased, swimming closer. “Just moonlight and magic?”

“Something like that,” I grinned, spouting water in a playful fountain that made her sputter and laugh.

We swam until our limbs were jelly and our hearts synchronized with the ebb and flow. As the sun began to dip, painting molten gold onto the water, we found a secluded shore to rest.

Riri lay beside me, pulling off her goggles, the sunset catching the outlines of her strong, lean figure. “Race you back?” she offered, that spark of challenge in her voice I loved so much.

“You’re on, Williams,” I said, knowing full well I’d let her win.

But in the race of hearts, I guess we were both champions, laying claim to stretches of sand and sea, horizons and the spaces between stars—two girls from different worlds with no boundaries when it came to love.

#riri williams fluff #riri williams x reader #riri williams #riri williams x fem!reader #wlw #lesbian