#desert caravan au

[redundantz]

Ancient Loz AU Story

10,000 years before the events of BOTW the Princess of Hyrule and the Hero who wields the sword that seals the Darkness first fought off the Calamity. With the help of the Sheikah, Guardians, Champions and the Divine Beasts. However, the hero and her best friend; the Prince of the Gerudo, were now missing. The only one to return from the fight was the Princess… Bloodied and bruised. She emerged from the castle alone. No longer the energetic, and free spirited person she used to be. Now, she is filled with a sole dedication to her Kingdom. But cold, and filled with deep sorrow. She orders the Sheikah to create shrines to train the next hero.They prepare the towers, store the Guardians under the castle till they are needed. Research started on the slate where it can be used for building infrastructure and even battle. Anything to help prepare for another Calamity.

The Gerudo Prince wasn't seen again and the heroes identity was forgotten But, the Royal blood of Hylia lives on….

Link is from a traveling caravan. His family has blood from the ancient Zonai tribe. He travels with a decent size troupe along with his sister, father and grandmother.

He meets Zelda during a festival where he was entering an archery contest in castletown. Zelda, who was disguised as Sheik, was also entering. She beat him at the contest(barely), but was extremely bothered by how good he was.

The festival goes on for about 3 days and at the end there is the sword ceremony where all the people coming of age(18) can attempt to pull the sword. She was presiding over it and witnessed him pull the sword and his whole life change. Not long after they meet officially and Link is appointed as her Knight; She introduces him to Ganondorf, her best friend from childhood.

And the chaos and comrade-ere ensues~

Over 3 years they travel, train, fall in love and wait for the day when the evil is supposed to show itself. With no sign of the great evil, they start to relax a bit. But that is when it strikes. Ganon travelling by himself at this time. Explores a cave in the Gerudo desert and encounters something ominous. Whispers in the dark speak to him and his fears and wants and his distaste for the King of Hyrule…. The voice is familiar, much too familiar, and before he can fight back it consumes him. When he awakes he is alone. He isn't instantly ‘evil’ but over time it twists his thoughts and actions. His closest friends and mother grow concerned. He becomes harsher and radical. Cruel. During a secret meeting with the King, Ganon assassinates him. Zelda happens upon Ganon covered in blood. She thinks he's hurt and is concerned by his behavior the past year. He snaps. He tells her every dark thing he has been thinking, and that he killed her father. In shock, and devastated, she can’t move as Ganon is about to strike her. But Link manages to get to her in time because the master sword was glowing, something he has never seen before but an instinct so old took over him. He races to escape with her. Ganon takes over the castle. But only as a steward because the King and the Princess are nowhere to be found. No one is the wiser to his malevolent plots. Yet. He knows she has to act fast since Zelda and Link escaped.

Zelda and Link make it all the way to Kakariko Village and Impa and they are all Informed that the Calamity is upon them. No one can believe it is their Ganondorf who is doing this but it is undeniable. They grieve, but they must act fast. With the help of the Sheikah they gather the guardians, monks and send word to the Races and Champions to prepare for battle. Zelda listens as Link hums an old Zonai Lullaby his mother used to sing to him. And it makes her remember something she read about. A story about there being an ancient Zonai device below the castle that would help defeat the Demon King.

Impa knows the tunnels She can help them sneak in. So they prepare to infiltrate the castle.

Under the castle they find the Zonai Artifacts that were left behind for sealing the great evil.

Ganon's followers saw them enter however and informed him. Knowing this is his chance he stops all pretenses and releases his power. Unleashing a mob of monsters and a cloud of malace into the castle and across Hyrule. But the Champions and Shekah are prepared to meet them.

Looking around for any clue. Trying to think of anything they read or that Link heard from his family that could be used to turn on the sealing jewelry. They don’t know how to activate it, but Ganon is going to be upon them soon as they had to fight through hordes of monsters beforehand.

Out of the dark behind them he emerges.

Zelda and Link manage to avoid the surprise attack. They both go on the defensive. They fight and try to reason with him. They can’t believe this is their friend, their lover. The fight is tough, because they all know each other's moves after training together for years along with the emotional turmoil. Zelda tells Link he needs to figure out how to activate the artifact if they are to succeed. She will hold him off. But by this point they are both exhausted.

Ganon manages to cut Link, spraying blood over the floor and the statue. Link falls to the floor and Ganon towers over him ready to strike him down, but Zelda blasts him away. Ganon turns his attention to her. Annoyed with her meddling and manages to land a blow on her also. Cutting the tip of her right ear off.

The statue lights up from the blood. The blood of a zonai. That  was another part of the Lullaby from Links family Zelda realizes. The Jewelry glows and expands before flying off the wrists of the statue to Link. He is surrounded by a green glowing light that blasts Ganon and Zelda back. The bands constrict around his arms and legs disintegrating the clothing underneath. He screams. Zelda watches on in horror as Link transforms before her. His skin is turning black and his bones and skin stretch until he is 6 ft tall. What did she get him into? This was supposed to help them what was happening… She is living in a nightmare. What else will she have to give up. She cries as she looks at him, feeling his pain and fear. His hair band she had given him falls from his hair. Rolling across the floor towards her. “..Zelda….” He says 

She picks up the hair band and goes to him! But he is not really responding. He is restrained and struggling within himself. His head is filled with the spirits of the Zonai he knows what he must do…he knows this is the last time he will see Zelda and Ganon. To seal the Demon King he must sacrifice himself. He says the last part of the Lullaby to Zelda and she knows. This is it. She kisses him. Though a bit strange now that he's so tall and his lips are cold. Ganon is getting up across the cavern from them, laughing. He mocks them and their weak attempts at thwarting him. One last clash. Zelda manages to get his weapon from him and Link plunges his arm into Ganons chest activating the sealing power. Glowing green. They both freeze in place and all is quiet. Entombed under the castle. The malice and monsters disappear. Zelda cautiously goes up to them. She doesn't touch them lest she break the spell somehow. The only thing she does is grab the hair bangle that fell to the floor in the final fight. It was the one from Ganon’s hair. And she left for the surface.

Alone.

Thanks for Reading! <3

[artficlly]

king of pentacles [one-shot]

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x fortune teller!reader when your travelling circus rolls into town, you are warned that bucky barnes is the outlaw who rules these lands. you plan to keep your distance, but he and his men can not resist a little entertainment.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, blowjobs, begging, p in v, cowgirl position, bit of teasing, soft sub bucky??, if you squint theres some plot, fortune telling, tarot cards, violence, choking, blood, mention of death, mention of torture, mention of beatings, implied previous non-con to reader (not from bucky), protective bucky barnes, smoking, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i literally cannot even tell you where this idea came from. i had a vague thought about a travelling circus, tarot reading character. i wrote this out and edited it in like two days?? insane. i don't normally write smut so let me know your thots lol. if you enjoy western marvel aus, please check out some of my other works. i have a one-shot called 'me & the devil' and a mini-series called 'a dish served cold'! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

It was a windy autumn night when James Buchanan Barnes and his pack of vermin invaded Elkhorn’s Travelling Circus and Freakshow. 

There were scarcely few in the area who had not heard of Barnes and his gang of outlaws. From the moment your caravans had pulled across state lines, you had been warned not to cross Bucky Barnes or his dogs. The law did not concern itself with this place, a place so far west that civilization had been left behind. The memories of cities, people, and culture were a mere whisper on the winds, a fleck of sand in an endless desert. This place was ruled by barbarians, and Bucky Barnes was their king. 

You had heard stories of the fabled man. Some said he was the devil himself, that he sported horns and hooved feet. Others said his eyes were black as the night but reflected the light as if he were part beast. Those terrified people would recall his wrath and how his enemies were never afforded a simple, painless death. No, those who crossed the King suffered for their crimes. 

So when that twisted, cruel man of legend stood before you... You were surprised to find he was none of what he was rumoured to be. 

It had only been an hour since the nightly show had wrapped up, darkness falling quickly due to the colder months looming. The gang of outlaws had stormed your small campsite, locating your leader and employer, Duke Elkhorn, and demanding they be entertained! The candles had been lit, and the music was playing. The animals had been brought from their cages once more, and dancers and performers were laced back into costumes. Barnes had asked for entertainment, so you would provide it, lest you find yourself dead in a ditch. 

Thankfully, you had not yet taken off your own outfit and makeup. A kohl to line your eyes; your lips painted red; hair loose with intermitten beading and braids. You wore large jewled earrings and layers of necklaces that partially covered the deep v of your neckline. Your dress was tightly fitted, your breasts were pushed upwards by the corset beneath, and your skirt was a deep green that swirled around your legs with each movement. Your small tent was filled with a haze of incense, lavish velvet, and silk used as draperies. Your tent was divided into two sections—your working space and your personal quarters. You had been checking your appearance in your cracked mirror when the ruffle of fabric alerted you to his presence. 

He stood with an unquestionable air of confidence, a cigarette in hand. His eyes narrowed as he looked you over, a cruel smirk playing across his lips. He was large and burly, with muscular forearms that bulged against the fabric of his sleeves, which had been pushed up to gather at his elbows. Blood stained his collar and sleeves, and a gold pocket watch was tucked into his vest. His dark hair was windblown, bits peeking out from under his black, cattleman hat. 

As he flicked his cigarette, you realised his knuckles were bruised and split. A subtle splatter of blood across his cheek, smeared, as if somone had reached up and grasped his face in their dying moments. 

“Our mutual friend, Mr. Elkhorn, told me that if I was lookin’ for a pretty thing to come find ya.” His voice was deep when he spoke, gravelly and rough. It sent a shudder down your spine. Damn Elkhorn. You always knew he was a coward, even though he thought himself a big man. You and the other performers were not strangers to his temper and desperation. You all tended not to challenge it, as he could be a cruel man as equally as he could be fearful. 

“He weren’t lyin’ was he?” He lets out a low whistle, exhaling smoke. “How’s he kept you a secret for so long, huh? Guess mah boys don’t come pokin’ in the tents that often. Too busy pokin’ their bits into them dancer girls.”

You remain silent as he chuckles to himself. He eyes you greedily; his icy blue eyes are anything but discreet. You could feel how his gaze rested on the curves of your hips and breasts, watching how your skin moved with each breath. Desire was a strange thing—how easily you might shift from feeling confident and powerful to nothing at all. 

You certainly felt like a squirming idiot under his gaze. 

“I’m not a whore.” You speak up, though your voice is hushed, hesitant, or even uneasy. You knew men like Barnes would not take being denied well. If you thought Elkhorn’s brutality was something to fear, your knees would positively buckle before Barnes. 

Barnes barks out a laugh, his brows raising in something between delight and surprise. He strides towards you, grinning as you flinch back. “Yer employer seems to think differently.”

Your eyes slide closed as he reaches forward, a finger sweeping a strand of hair from your face to better look at you. You swallow hard as he chuckles, smoke blowing across your face. Teeth grit, you slowly open your eyes, a shuddering exhale leaving your nose as he runs a finger across your cheek.

“He’s a spineless excuse of a man.” You dare to bite back, your voice wavering, but you stand tall. His amused expression has morphed into one of intrigue. His actions falter; hesitation is clear in his demeanour. 

“He make ya do things ya don’t wanna do, darlin’?” The outlaw asks, his voice surprisingly genuine. He is still close to you, close enough that you can smell the tobacco on his breath and feel the vibration of each word in his chest. 

“Sometimes.” You admit, your eyes flickering up to meet his gaze. He curses under his breath, rubbing his jaw in annoyance. Barnes backs off a few paces, putting out his cigarette on one of your sidetables. From your side view of his chiselled face, you see a muscle in his jaw tense. 

“Well, sweetheart. I ain’t in the business of bein’ with women who don’t want it.” He says with a roll of his shoulders. He has stalked over to your reading table, bruised knuckles white as he grips the back of your chair. 

You are at a momentary loss for words. You had anticipated being repulsed by this man, the one who repeatedly terrorised these lands and enabled his dogs to do what they wanted and take what they pleased. There was something strangely endearing about his care for your consent. 

“Well, I am glad to hear it.” You finally uttered. “Can’t say the same for some of your boys, though.”

A tense silence washes over the tent, and you almost immediately regret your words. Against your better judgement, you creep towards him. He doesn’t flinch away from your touch as your hands smooth over the top of his hands and wrists. Beneath you, he feels like stone, each tendon and muscle expertly chiselled like the statues you saw in the big cities back east. 

“Yer right. Pack o’ wild mongrels they are. Good for puttin’ folk in their place. I think I’ll get ‘em to pay yer employer a little visit. Remind him whose land he’s on.” 

Barnes goes to leave, pulling away from your touch. A wave of horror washes over you at his implication. You find yourself reaching for him again in an unexpected panic. Your hands latch around his bare forearm, tugging him back an inch. 

“Wait.” You shake your head, gripping his forearm. The outlaw looks back at you in curiosity. 

“I ain’t gonna hurt anyone else, sweetheart. Just him. ” He drawls, eyes darting to where you hold his arm. You drop it immediately, backing off. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. 

“He will think your lesson is because I turned you down or because I wasn’t good enough for you.” You explain desperately. His eyes narrow, as if offended on your behalf. “Whatever you do to him, he will do to me twofold. As punishment. He is a cruel man, you understand?”

“Yer definitely not pleading his case well, darlin’.” There is impatience in his tone and ire that you could not even begin to comprehend. Your eyes flicker to his bruised knuckles, the splatters of blood. If Elkhorn found out, well, you would have to wear a veil for the rest of your life. Your face would be so mishapened and destroyed that you would bring fear into the hearts of anyone who laid eyes upon you. You would no longer be a fortune teller but a featured freak of Elkhorn’s sideshow. Men and women alike would pull faces, with children throwing food and rocks. The deformed woman— another beast in a cage. 

You have seen this fate play out too many times. Too many were lost to Elkhorn’s wickedness. 

“Please.” You beg. His brow arches and his adams apple bobs. 

You swallow nervously, then hesitantly step forward. With gentle hands, you take his forearm once more, guiding him to your reading table. “Just… I will entertain you for a suitable time. I can read your cards. Then, you can tell Mr. Elkhorn that you laid with me; embellish it if you wish.”

Barnes seems too intrigued to protest. 

He unbuttons his vest with a soft grunt, taking a seat at the table. His legs are spread wide in a domineering pose as he leans back into the seat with cool confidence. As you take a seat at the opposite end of the table, he reaches into his vest pocket. 

“So, how does this work?” He asks. You can tell he is irritated from the way his brow twitches and jaw muscles are still tense. He is playing along for your benefit, you realise. He is looking to you for amusement to stop himself from marching out of the tent and dealing with Elkhorn as promised. 

“I will shuffle the cards, then draw three. Each card has meaning, and all together, it will tell you the message you need to hear.” You explain. Barnes had pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering you one. You decline with a wave of your hands, instead taking the cards into your palm. He shrugs, lighting it with a half-interested sigh. 

As he inhaled and you shuffled, you noticed his interest lay closer to your exposed skin. Even if he had backed off per your request, it did not seem to stop him from undressing you with his eyes from the opposite side of the table. He seemed emnamoured by the layers of necklaces and how they clinked and rolled across your skin. 

As you shuffled, the first card fell out. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip as he watched you work. You slid the escapee card onto the table, facedown on the red tablecloth. 

“Anything in particular that you want to hear, hm?” You ask. As you lift your gaze, you find Barnes enraptured by your movements, so much so that he has forgotten to take another drag. “Most people want to know about their careers… their families. Love.”

“I don’t believe in love.” He says, sucking in a breath. You tilt your head. He didn’t believe in love, no. He believed in lust. Desire. From the way his pupils were blown and his lips parted in awe, he was positively eating out of your hand. A second card falls. You slide it next to the first. 

“Business it is, then.” You breathe. The final card falls from the deck just as the words leave your lips. You put it in place, then place the stack of the remaining deck to the side. Barnes is transfixed as you lean your arms parallel to the table and tilt forward. “Flip one.”

“Does it matter which order?”

“No.”

With unwavering confidence, he reaches forward, flipping over the first in the row. Your gaze falls downward to view the card, a frown pulling at your lips. You examine the familiar figures on the card. Two figures stood on either side, naked and chained. Behind them, in the darkness, loomed a beast with claws, horns, and wings. The Devil. 

How fitting. 

Barnes seems to find it ironic as well, as he scoffs in disbelief. “Ya playin’ a trick on me?”

You look up at him. The tension in the small tent is as thick as the smoke that hangs in the air. “No. The cards tell the truth, if you want to hear it or not.”

You reach out, stroking a finger over the card.

“The figures, they are chained. They don’t want to be there, but if you look closely… their chains are loose. They could escape at any moment.” If Barnes had a snarky comment, he does not say. He hung on to your every word. “And the longer they remain, the longer they become more like the devil. He represents the darkness within them, their shadow selves. It is the evil within you—the short-term pleasures—to ignore the long-term pains. Instant gratification. Greed, violence. You think you have free will, but you have sold your soul to the devil.”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t already know darlin,” The outlaw says with a chuckle. You notice that his shoulders have relaxed, a cool amusement embodying him. 

You hold his gaze. “Next card.”

His fingers brush yours as he flips over the centre card. The King of Pentacles. 

“The Devil and now the King? You’re spoilin’ me, sweetheart.” He chuckles. 

You eyed the card. The king sat upon his lavish throne, surrounded by wealth. You tap your nail across the yellow pentacle symbol, humming in thought. “King of Pentacles. It represents wealth and abundance. He has influence and is a skilled leader.”

Your head tilts. “It’s a warning.”

“A warnin’? Sounds like a good card to me.” 

“The king has all that he wants. An abundance of wealth. Everything he touches turns to gold, like King Midas.”

“King Midas?”

“It’s an old tale. One of caution. About a king who was blessed with the power to turn anything he touched into gold. His kingdom flourished with wealth, but he soon found himself to be unhappy. He could not eat, as any food that touched his lips turned to gold. He could not know the comforts of the flesh, for the women would also turn to gold. Everything he once cherished…gone. Then, one day he lost the one thing he loved most, his daughter. She kissed her father upon his forehead and instantly became a statue of gold.”

“I would be a far richer man if I were this…King Midas.”

“But don’t you see? You are him. You are a king who is flush with wealth; your influence is strong. Your people flourish. Everything you do and everything you touch becomes profit. But at what cost? How much more will you lose? How much more will you give up for greed?” You finger turns to point at the Devil card. His lips are set in a straight line as he scowls at you. 

“You best be careful now.” He warns. You shudder, leaning back in your seat, motioning for him to flip the final card. 

You stare down at the table, your breath held in horror. The figure in the card sits up in bed, hands to their face in anguish. Decorating the wall behind them are a row of swords, two of which could be seen to be piercing through the figure. Stabbed through the back. The frame of the bed is carved, illustrating two figures fighting. Nine of Swords. 

Your mouth feels dry as Barnes peers at you expectantly. “Well?”

You can’t find the words; your brows are scrunching as you try to find the best way to articulate the meaning without triggering the brooding outlaw’s wrath. Your finger taps on the table, and you clear your throat, squirming in your seat. 

“Nine of Swords.” You utter quietly. “The figure… they are troubled by their own thoughts. Their worries, speculations… so much so that they manifest it into reality.”

Your fingers trace over the fighting figures. “You worry of a rising conflict.”

You ghost over the swords next. A backstabbing. 

It was all very clear to you how it all intertwined. Barnes was a man possessed by evil and greed. He had sacrificed much to accumulate his wealth; like King Midas, he had all the gold he could need, but at what cost? His followers, his people—they were afraid. Weary of their cruel leader. A coup was in the works. Jealousy brewed within his men; all they knew was evil, so all they could give was violence in return. 

“A betrayal.” You breathe. Your eyes snap up to meet his. His pupils were no longer blown, instead replaced with an icy rage. 

“How do ya know this?” His voice had dropped, low and threatening. His cigarette was discarded, flecks of burning ash glowing across the floor. His shoulders were tensed, straining against the fabric as he began to loom over you, slowly standing from his seat. 

You shrunk back. “I don’t, I just read the cards—” 

You let out a shriek as Barnes gripped the table, flipping it in one solid motion. The cards fluttered to the ground around you, the glossy paper flickering in the low candle light. You recoiled in your seat, limbs trembling as Barnes stood over you. 

“Did Rumlow put you up to this, huh? I know what him and his little pack of vermin have been whisperin’.” He spat on the ground beside you, and you flinched back. Barnes reached down, gripping your throat as he forced you to look up at him. 

“I don’t know anythin’. I swear—” You begged, tears prickling at your eyes. 

Barnes scanned your face, then released you with a huff. You scrambled away, retreating to the furthest corner of the tent. Barnes waved his hand at you with a sigh, re-buttoning his vest and straightening his shirt. 

“I’ll give ya the benefit of the doubt, darlin’. But if I find out you’ve been lyin’...I’ll kill ya myself. Ya understand?” 

You nodded wordlessly, whimpering as the outlaw marched out of your tent without a glance back. 

—

“Where is she?” The enraged roar of Bucky Barnes sent a nauseating wave of panic through your body. 

A couple weeks had past, and Elkhorn’s Travelling Circus and Freakshow were wrapping up their stay. Duke Elkhorn wanted to push further west, bring entertainment to the drivers and rustlers of the far reaches of the country. Within two days, you were set to leave this awful place and flee the clutches of Barnes and his boys. 

Well, it seemed that had been hopeful thinking. 

You were in your tent, in your personal quarters. You had pulled shut the draperies to allow yourself privacy. The strong men, slick with oil and always sporting toothy grins, were always eager to deliver you water to bathe in. It had become a sort of ritualistic routine of yours to undress and wash the makeup from your face. After hours of sitting in a stuffy tent stinking of incense, it was a relief to wash the smell from your body. 

You wore a silk robe, loosely tied at the waist. It had been a gift from a patron back east—some rich city boy who had a fascination with you. When Barnes crashed through your draperies into the back of your tent, chest heaving with a livid look in his eye… you froze. You were perched on a stool before your cracked mirror, pulling a brush through your long locks of hair. 

You stumbled to your feet, stool knocked to the ground. 

Barnes was covered in blood, his shirt so drenched that it clung to his skin. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his teeth were bared in a growl. The blood was still fresh on his arms and neck, the liquid glinting in the candlelight. He had not bothered to wear his hat; instead, his hair was messy, with a splattering of blood across his cheek.

“I told ya I would kill ya myself.” The outlaw snarled. 

You backed away, back meeting the tent wall. “I didn’t do anythin—”

You were cut off as Barnes marched forward, large hands wrapping around your throat. He squeezed tightly, a breathless whimper escaping your mouth.

“How did ya know?” He demanded, his face twisted into a look of rage. 

You claw at the front of his shirt, sticky blood coating your palms as you struggle. 

“Ya knew about Rumlow. Ya warned me of a betrayal.” 

He releases the pressure on your throat, and you meekly gasp in air, nails digging into his shoulder as you try to keep your knees steady. 

“I didn’t know, I just said what the cards showed—” You rasp. Barnes doesn’t seem pleased by your answer, jaw muscle ticing. 

“I don’t believe in yer magical horseshit. I know it’s all tricks and acts. How did ya know?”

“The cards aren’t magical. Each card has a meaning that can be understood in different ways, it’s my job to apply them to whoever walks into my tent. The cards just reveal thoughts you have not quite spoken aloud—ideas at the back of your mind. They ask you to confront your inner self. You knew Rumlow was a traitor before the cards, you had a suspicion, but you did not act on it until prompted by the cards.” You wheezed out. The outlaw slowly releases your throat, his face controrting into something closer to frustration than rage. Your palms brace flat on his chest as you steady yourself against him. 

“Deep down, you already knew he was a traitor.” You reiterate. 

“You’re a fuckin’ witch.” He breathes, then runs a hand through his messy hair. Blood streaks across his forehead, clumping his strands of hair. His head tilts as he looks down at you. His face has relaxed, as if a silent clarity had overcome him. “Even if ya deny it… ya did warn me.”

You clear your throat, hand raising to your neck as you brush your fingers over the tender flesh where he had gripped you. “You warned yourself.”

He stares down at you, then frowns guiltily. “Apologies, darlin’. I shouldn’t have done that to ya.”

You believe him.

You hold your breath as his fingers briefly skim over your neck. His gaze falls deeper, his eyes following the curve of your breast that was half-exposed by your robe. The fabric was bunched into a deep v, leaving the swell of your breasts, sternum, and skin down to your belly button exposed. The outlaw sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, then stalks away with a frustrated growl. 

“Barnes—” you call to him softly.

“Bucky.” He corrects.

You catch a glance at yourself in the mirror. The silk robe hangs perfectly from your curves, blood smeared across your chest and neck. You suck in your own deep breath, sweeping your hair over your shoulders as you hesitantly approach the outlaw. He paced like the beasts Elkhorn kept caged up, endlessly forced to perform for cruel crowds. You knew what he needed. A delicate touch, a sweetness to lean on. 

“Speak to me.” You whisper to him, gentle hands guiding him to the edge of your bed. The canopy was draped with deep purple fabrics, furs, and blankets over the straw mattress. He silently obliges. 

“One of my boys, one I thought I could trust. He betrayed me. Thought he could make a little gang of his own and overthrow me from the inside.” The outlaw explains. His voice is stiff, and his posture is tense. You smooth a palm over his forearm, and your thigh presses against his as you sit closely together. 

There is a distant look in his eye as he stares past you at the wall of the tent. It shifts with the cool breeze outside, rising and falling like the night itself breathes. “I dealt with it.”

You cock your head to the side, hand running up his arm as you examine his face with a frown. “Dealt with it?” 

His eyes snap to yours, and your hand wavers in hesitation. There is a darkness in his eyes. His expression made goosebumps rise across your skin. You could only explain it as something primal, something caught between violence and arousal. 

“I made them pay.” He explains, his body twisting as he faces you fully. A bloodied hand raises, his thumb rubbing across your cheek as he cradles your face. “After two days, they begged me to end it. To end their lives.”

“And did you?” You dare to whisper back. His thumb traces inward, across your lower lip. 

“No.” He says simply. “I cut out their tongues so they could no longer beg. I made them pay.”

Your eyes must have been wide in shock because he chuckled, his hand sweeping through your hair. Then, with an uncharacteristic softness to his tone, he utters a question. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart thunders in your ears, a short gasp leaving you as your lips part. In all your travels, you have heard stories of women who could make men fall in love with them with just their eyes. Women who used their bodies and seduced their way to the top. Even violent men like Bucky had one weakness—a woman who showed them kindness. A woman who could momentarily take control. The men would let their minds drift away; the burdens were lifted, if only for a night. 

Heat pools between your legs. You nod, a hand reaching to stroke across his jaw. The two of you meet in mutual desperation and touch once gentle, now needy. His tongue brushes against your lips, effortlessly parting them as he licks into your mouth. A moan escapes your throat at the taste of his tongue.

Your hands find the front of his shirt, blindly unbuttoning as he grips your hair in one hand. The outlaw groans as his hand slides across your shoulders, pushing away the robe. Your top half is exposed, nipples have hardened, and silk has pooled at your waist. 

As your tongues tangle, Bucky tilts his head to gain better access to your mouth. Your gasps meet his as he moans heavily into your mouth. His hands trace along your body, one squeezing your waist and hips, the other coming to grasp your breast. 

With a tug, you pull his shirt free. The two of you part, your head lulling back as he paints sloopy, feverish kisses down your neck. A groan rises in your throat as you lean into him, one hand gripping his dark hair and the other beginning to palm him through his pants. 

His kisses move further down, head dipping as he licks a stripe across your breast. He takes a nipple into his mouth, kissing and sucking as you gasp and lean into him. The space between your legs is throbbing; a wet neediness rising. 

You clutch his thigh, squirming with desire. The stubble along his jaw prickles your flesh, and a shudder runs down your spine. Your hands find his, easing his grip on your hips as you slide off the bed. Lowering yourself to the floor on your knees, you sit between his legs. Bucky lets out a groan as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown, and his lips are swollen and glossy. Your hands trace up his thighs, and your quick fingers relieve him of his belt. 

“Let me.” You hum to him. You tilt your head, your cheek brushing against his knee. His adams apple bobs as he swallows hard. “I can make you feel good.”

You can see his bulge under the fabric. He eagerly helps you pull his pants down, his cock springing free already fully hard. You press a kiss to the tip. His cock twitches in response and a low moan vibrates in his chest. You look up at him through your lashes, biting your lip. He leans back, looking at the tent roof, as his chest rises and falls with a loud, satisfied sigh. 

There was a power that resonated in your chest, seeing the outlaw so vulnerable under your touch. He did not protest your lead, instead eagerly following your command. You take him into your mouth slowly, one hand running up his thigh as the other wraps around his length. 

You bob your head, feeling him tense with pleasure beneath you. As you come up, you whisper to him quietly. “Relax.”

As your tongue swirls over his tip, then down his broad length, you feel his hips rock beneath you. His hand comes to fist your hair, subtly guiding you as you take him fully into your mouth once more. You follow his needs, taking notice of each pleasured twitch or motion in response to your touch. His fingers tangle in your long locks of hair, tugging as you pull unimaginable, explicit sounds from the outlaw. 

“Fuck—” He groans above you, his breath coming in short pants. You hum in response, relishing the sensation of him falling to pieces beneath you. The spot between your legs was slick, and wetness was beginning to drip down your inner thigh. There was a selfish urge within you that desired to reach down between your legs to gift yourself some friction. 

You swallowed him down deeper, flattening your tongue against his ridgid length. His hips started to jerk, stronger than the previous gentle rocking. You could feel him growing undone, his breath coming shorter, and his nails desperately digging into your scalp as he desperately tried to guide your head deeper and deeper. 

You obliged, but only as you felt his cock twitch once more did you pull away fully. Not yet. You weren’t finished with him yet. The outlaw let out a pained grumble. His hands caressed your shoulders as you rose to your feet. 

“Darlin’—” Bucky protests, but you shush him. 

“How much do you want me, hm?” You ask him. He has propped himself up onto his elbows to look up at you. His cock was still erect, glistening in the candlelight from your saliva. 

“I want you.” He affirms.

“How desperately? Would you get on your knees for me? Beg for me?” You say it breathlessly. You take one of his hands in yours, pressing a kiss to the palm. 

His breath stutters. “Yes.” 

“Go on then.” As the words leave your mouth, your eyes flicker upwards. You look at him through your lashes.

“Please, sweetheart—” He whines. You cock your head to the side, peppering more kisses along each fingertip. 

“Louder.” 

“Please.” He begs. You smirk down at him wickedly, shifting closer. Your palm meets his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed as his elbows buckle beneath him. 

“Lie back.” You instruct, helping guide his legs so he lies flat along the bed. In one fluid motion, you straddle his waist, his silk robe still pooling around your hips. You lean over him, taking one of the waist straps of your robe. With slow breaths, you move the soft fabric across his bloodied chest, tracing each vein and muscle before finally grazing it across his nipples. He shudders beneath you, his grip bruising where he grasps your hips. 

“Say it again.” You breathe. You are embarrassingly wet as you sit perched upon him. 

“Please. I need you.” He obeys, and another wave of arousal washes over you. Only now did you give in to your selfish desires, dead rolling back as you ground your hips slowly. Your lips parted, a small mewling moan leaving you as you clenched around nothing. You flatten a hand over his chest, allowing him to help guide you as you raise onto your knees. 

With one gentle movement, you lower yourself onto him. Your wet heat engulfs him, and the two of you groan in unison. You feel yourself stretch around him, and you moan as you allow your body to take him in completely. His hands tighten their hold on your waist. 

Bucky looks at you with a slightly slack-jawed expression. “Fuck, sweetheart. I think I’m gonna make ya my wife.”

You manage a smile through your own arousal, your hand gliding up and down his chest as you move your hips in a grinding motion. You gasp out a low, “Oh yeah?”

His head tips back with a moan as you clench around him. You experiment momentarily, brows drawn and biting your lip, until you find a grinding rhythm that ignites a fire within you. Bucky meets you halfway, helping guide you with his hands still gripping your hips. Your head lulls forward, small panting gasps leaving you as your eyes squeeze shut. 

“I’ll make you beg for that too…Fuck—” You whine, and Bucky chuckles beneath you. He continues to help direct your hips, and your thighs begin to shake as you lower and raise yourself. 

A strangled cry leaves you as Bucky’s hand lowers, his thumb circling your clit. Pleasure spikes up your spine, your knees wobbling as you nearly double over at the sensation. His fingers swirl with purpose, pulling all manner of illicit words and sounds from your throat. 

“You like that, sweetheart?” Bucky hummed.

Just as you feel like sobbing from the pleasure, you cock your head to the side. With a deep breath, you tug Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him upright to meet you. The two of you clash, breath hot. His arms wrap around you, pinning you to his chest as he kisses you with a primal hunger. You moan into his mouth, your tongue sloppily moving against his as he begins to thrust vigorously. 

You could feel your climax building steadily within you, the peak of a tumbling wave that had not yet crested. Bucky was a panting, sweaty mess beneath you. He greedily kissed and sucked along your neck, head dipping as he ran his tongue along your collarbone. 

Your own head fell, teeth grazing across his neck. He tastes like salt and copper. You nuzzled your nose against his jaw, taking his earlobe between your teeth. Deep within you, you felt his cock twitch. 

You wrap your arms over his shoulders, your fingers tugging at his hair. That pulled a groan from him, the noise vibrating across your skin. With a devious smile pressed against his cheek, you lean in close to his ear. Breath hot, you whisper into his ear. 

“Come for me.”

As if he had been waiting for those exact words, he explodes within you. The sensation tips you over the edge, a thundering in your ears defeans you as your eyes roll back into your head. You clench around Bucky tightly, your body milking every last drop of him as he lazily ruts the last of his energy into you. 

The two of you pant, catching a breath as you both come to a halt. The outlaw nuzzles your neck with a content sigh, then laughs against your sweaty skin. 

“I wasn’t jokin’ earlier.” He finally speaks up, his voice somewhat more dignified now that he wasn’t a moaning mess beneath you. 

“Hm?” You respond sleepily, too fucked-out to be bothered opening your eyes. 

“I’m gonna steal ya away from here. Make ya my goddamn wife.”

Against your better judgement, you believed him.

[kedsandtubesocks]

blood on your name

Cowboy!Ezra x F!Reader

summary: Texas 1885 - the town’s ranching competition brings in new souls out from the desert, one unfortunately happens to be a ghost haunting you & he’s still as handsome and dangerous as ever

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY. MDNI, old Wild West AU, slight enemies to lovers, very morally!gray Ezra, fingering, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, one moment of spit kink, allusions to p in v, scoundrel but soft!Ezra, themes of violence & reader enacting violence on another, use of guns, blood & injury, morally!gray reader, time period views of marriage & shaming women (brief use of derogatory terms against reader), minor character deaths, light gender language usage, use of nicknames

word count: 7.2k

a/n: here’s to finally putting my 7th grade tx history lessons to some use plus I’ve been really missing west texas so here we are lol! Fun history fact - Pecos prides itself as the birth place of the rodeo so this competition is the inception of that! It took me a while to get here & this truly wouldn’t be here without @gasolinerainbowpuddles @julesonrecord & @perotovar i can’t thank you babes enough, and to you, if you decide to read this too, thank you so much ♡

The newcomers that blew into town stand around the edge of the fence.

Pecos had become famous for hosting this rope wrangling event, and you’re not surprised it’s brought others in to observe the spectacle. Just last week it seemed like more wagons wandered into the edge of town.

You’ve been living here among the desert’s harsh eyes with your aunt for a few years now. When your mother unleashed her wrath after she found you with an unmarried man who had drifted into town, you fled with the caravan heading out west. So far west it brought you to the Pecos River. You’re thankful your aunt welcomed you with open arms. The desert proved to be a harsh host. But you’ve managed.

The actual event in town wasn’t taking place until the end of the week. Except so many already want to see the cowboys proudly warming up, showing off.

It’s why you even stop on your way home from the tailor shop.

Duke Williams currently tries his hand at practicing. The handsome young star all the way from Austin shows promise while he maneuvers his threadbare rope with ease.

He lands a solid catch against one of the practice sheep running around, and the crowd claps already impressed.

His bright face, angelic almost, brightens when he smiles triumphantly. When he spots you among the on looks, he beams even wider. You smile back politely.

However, Martha, the mayor’s youngest daughter, nudges you.

“I don’t know why you haven’t let that man swoop you up yet?” She giggles with a slight tease however, her words sting.

Duke’s been pursuing you ever since he came into town last spring. He reminds you of a newly built chapel, lovely coated in pristine and full of holy hope.

Yet, you don’t care for him.

You understand you should be married by now. Especially at your age, you’re becoming a dusting antique on the shelf by the town’s whispers. You even understood your mothers anger after discovering the man she caught you with had simply scurried away without another word.

Everyone in town seems to see Duke almost as your god blessed savior on a white horse sent to rescue you from a desolate destitution.

But you don’t hold any sense of attraction towards Duke. Even as you watch how handsome and sturdy he looks, a fierce cowboy among the other competitors, you simply admire his skills. And that’s it.

You wonder if you’re simply destined to the life of a happily secluded cactus like creature.

Something tickles against your skin, a sensation of being hyper aware of being caught in another’s gaze. Living in the desert has brought you a heightened awareness to make sure no critters lurking among can strike you.

So your eyes flicker around and find the crowd still enthralled by the sight of the cowboys.

Until you find one man isn’t.

One of the newcomers.

Sun kissed skin, an absolutely striking hawkish nose, sparse facial hair and then, the deepest dark earth eyes you’ve ever seen stare straight at you. The dusty black cowboy hat he wears casts a strange shadow across his features, cloaking him almost sinister.

Your breath hitches fast like it’s stolen from you.

You know this stranger.

One of the other newcomers nudges against him drawing his attention away from you. But your face stays stuck on him.

The men discuss with each other low and close, clustered together like a pack of desert weeds sprouting fast.

Except after the mystery outsider relays something back to the group, his eyes flicker back to you.

There’s a simmered wildness to him.

The commotion of spurs clinking comes and so many giggle around you, drawing your attention away.

Duke moves towards you with a shining grin on his face.

A desire to scurry away tugs at you. So with a polite smile, you silently duck away and decide to head home.

“Hey! Why ya leaving so soon?” He calls out. “Did you see me?”

His voice is so bright but also, so slightly arrogant, as if he can maybe keep you from leaving.

“Yes, you were incredible.” You’re truthful in your words.

Thankfully the others all around begin greedily vying for his attention.

As you turn to head home, that strange itch crawls over you again. Someone’s watching you.

So glancing around you think it must be Duke, but his attention is preoccupied.

However, it’s the handsome black cowboy hat stranger who again blatantly stares so direct at you.

A moment passes of you simply staring back at him.

However you break the contact first, needing to head home. But the entire way you sense his eyes blazing a hole on your back.

By the time you hit the edge of town towards your aunt’s cabin, the day creeps into early evening.

Above, vultures circle around high. However… there isn’t any sign of decay nearby.

- ☾𖤓 -

Your walk towards the tailor shop passes by the large stretch of land where the cowboys practice. Duke cries out your name excited. Politely you turn to greet him good morning only to find he’s not alone.

Other cowboys of course have come to wrestle in their skills. One of them surprises you.

The man you saw a few days ago is here.

His deep midnight eyes flicker to you immediately. That handsome face of his stays entirely composed.

Duke rattles on about his day. Yet you pay no attention as the new cowboy has stolen all your focus. The black cowboy hat he wears is dusty, weathered, and for some reason, you feel as if it both does and doesn’t suit him.

Duke chirps out your name again. Apologizing, you blame your dazed attention on lack of sleep.

Your night has been restless

“Hope ol’ lady Julie isn’t working y’too hard at the tailor shop.” He grins boyish and charming.

“Oh, Duke.” A smooth twang of a voice floats out. Waltzing in besides the cowboy, the newcomer arrives.

“You didn’t tell me your bird was so lovely.” His voice is curled with a smile and his voice, a deep drawl, draws an acidic venom in your mouth.

“I’m not his bird.” You politely reply.

“Not yet.” Duke adds warm, shy. But that only causes your stomach to squirm even more.

“Name’s Ezra, dear honeysuckle.” The newcomer introduces himself with a tip of his hat.

You nod back quietly giving him your name.

“Ezra came for the competition, traveled all this way just to try his hand at it!” Duke, ever the competitor, explains excited for the new competition.

Your eyes unfortunately stay on the newcomer rider.

Compared to Duke, Ezra’s frame is lithe. Then again, Duke with his incredibly tall stature is built like a terrifying boulder. Ezra’s broad shoulders and his striking sleek build makes you think of a river, fluid yet quietly powerful.

As unfortunately handsome as he is, his frame does not seem like a cowboy’s build.

Instead he reminds you of the traveling con man you once knew.

Duke continues rattling on and on about how proud he is to show off the town and this event.

You however hate the way Ezra’s eyes still on you make your skin tighten.

Excusing yourself with a soft nod, wishing them both well, you return on your way to the seamstress. Your body burns the entire way.

The day goes by slowly at the shop. After working on a few ruined blouses, Julie, the elderly shop owner, keeps you busy with tidying up. When the sun starts setting, the door clings open, and you wonder who’s coming in so late.

Ezra saunters in, and your throat tightens.

“Welcome in, newcomer!” Julie greets with a grandmotherly grace. “What can we do for you, good sir?”

Ezra smiles with all the charm of a gilded cactus.

“Seems I am in need of a new stitch for these gloves of mine.” Ezra explains pulling out worn gloves.

Leather frayed along the straps speak of the weathered and worn attention they’ve been given. But they seem too big for his hands. You even swear you’ve seen them before on his old business partner. But you don’t want to think too much on it.

Good dear sweet Julie chatters with the man. You simply stay quiet, not even turning to greet or address him.

You don’t even work on his gloves, deciding to let Julie handle them.

You even hide out in the back room, not even listening to when Ezra leaves.

Julie ends up heading home, and you’re left to close up. The sun sets a dusty fading apricot against the shadow of the tailor shop.

As you pass by the alleyway, suddenly you’re handed into the dark shadows. You’re about to scream, maybe even yelp, until a hand goes flying across your face, silencing you.

“Now now, pidge, don’t need you making too much of a holler.” Ezra.

Anger seethes in you, boiling. Violently and with a harsh yank, you tear yourself away from his grasp. You’re almost tempted to storm away.

“Didn’t think I’d ever be graced by your beauty again. That mother of yours still got that shotgun she threatened me with?” He smoothly asks with the amount of dangerous charm a rattlesnake would carry.

“What? This your last attempt at selling that watered down snake oil you call elixirs and tonics?” You snap back razor sharp.

When you first met Ezra, which now feels like lifetimes ago, he was a smooth talking traveling salesman. A drifter, as your mother so harshly called him.

Instead of the cowboy hat he wears now, he looked more stately in his bowler type cap.

He charmed so many of the women in town, trying to sell them the secrets to youth, vitality, beauty, and anything else he could promise in his elixir vials. You however, were not interested, saw right through his ruse.

Though, you realize now you were just as foolish as the others in town rapidly buying his lies. Because you had been just as charmed and fooled as they were.

This man, who’s sharp wit intrigued you, who spoke to you as an equal, became so dangerous because you were willing to give him everything.

Your heart, your body - all of you should have been reserved for your husband. Instead you freely gave everything to this thief.

The swindler swore he would take you with him, make you his wife. But when your mother’s fury came, he fled like a petrified jackrabbit.

You suppose he is more coyote than jackrabbit, greedily stealing anything he can then sneakily moving on.

Ezra’s composed grin on his face flickers, like all the history resting between you and him resurfaces within him.

“Didn’t you hear, pidgeon? My elixirs were plundered. Even my poor partner, god rest his dear soul, was shot down in cold blood!” Ezra explains with sorrow.

You had heard about that. At the edge of town, on the dirt road leading out into the hills, one of the sheriff’s found the large carriage and Ezra’s associate dead. The carriage crashed, run off the road. The damage screamed of the work of bandits. However, Ezra was nowhere to be found.

“I’m just supposed to believe you miraculously made it out of there alive?” You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

You don’t want to say it, but your instincts twist dangerously in your stomach. You wonder if Ezra did the deed himself, killed his partner and took the valuables.

Ezra shrugs sheepishly.

“That’s the way the desert works, honeysuckle. It’s a harsh landscape that only protects those who can survive its wrath.”

You forgot how much he spoke like a preacher sometimes, so elevated and otherworldly. You hate how badly your heart races just being this close to him again, hearing his voice again.

“So you’re telling me you came all the way here just to try your hand at the competition? Never even seen you ride, much less thrown a rope. Can’t imagine a con-man like you being a cowboy.” You reply skeptical.

He barks a laugh. “You'd be surprised. I’m a man composed of many unrevealed talents.”

You knew that very well.

Cautiously, treading like he’s approaching a mountain lion, Ezra steps closer to you. Out of instinct you step backwards closer to the other shop beside the tailors.

“Now don’t tell me you’re pondering the idea of telling everyone about my past life, pidge?” His voice is low, calm but brewing like an approaching storm.

“Because it pains me just imagining the repercussions that could arise if ya did.” He mutters, and your throat gets tight.

There's an underlying threat below his words.

Fiercely, stubbornly, you glare at him, refusing to speak. But you know you won’t say anything. He must know it too. You’ve left your past far back at home. And you don’t want him reviving your ghosts either.

Suddenly the back of Ezra’s hand gingerly, barely touching your skin, grazes against your cheek. He whispers out your name.

“The years out here have made you bloom, like a beautiful desert petal.” He mumbles with hazed eyes.

Out of spite you snap your face away and scowl even harder at him.

“I have to get home.” You snap angrily, managing to finally remove yourself from him.

“The motel houses me for the time being,” he declares from behind in the shadows.

“Unless that blonde Galahad cowboy of yours is keeping your bed warm now?” Ezra adds almost amused.

Rage bursts a furious fire in you, and it consumes you in its heated path.

“Rot in hell.” You snarl whipping back to him.

“As long as you keep me company, beautiful.” Ezra replies coy.

You’re about to curse his soul when he stomps towards you, fast and steady. His hand flings to your face, pulls you back to the shadow of the tailor shop.

He kisses you with the fierce intensity of a sudden dust storm. It even shakes your soul, spins you around, as if you were caught in an actual twister.

He tastes like the faint hints of a cigar, but something still so deliciously sinful and him. Your knees want to buckle when he easily slips his tongue inside and immediately coaxes his against yours.

You whimper, don’t even realize he’s maneuvered you to the wall of the shop, until your back gently hits the cool wood building.

It’s like your body is imprinted to his, completely answering his call, willingly and wanting to be closer to him while your hands clutch at his broad shoulders.

His body pins you firm against the building, and already he grinds his hips into you.

Then the laughter nearby bursts the bubble, snaps your attention clear.

You scramble and rapidly shove Ezra away. You don’t say another word and simply walk away.

However your lips continue to sting, as if bitten by a bee. Your hands ache empty like they’re missing the presence of his body in their grasp.

You can’t fall for this trap again.

But by the time you arrive back home, greet your aunt warmly, the lie spills from your lips before you can stop it.

“Julie wants to start the inventory sooner. So I’ll be heading back and staying over at the shop.”

Your aunt doesn’t question you, simply grins sweet and wishes you a safe trip back to town.

The sun barely sets in for the night over the horizon. The sky is a dusty blue, the softest color before bleeding into a dark midnight. The desert at night is another creature entirely. Even as you walk into town, you try to stay aware and low from any curious eyes.

The motel approaches fast. The caretaker gives you a curious look but before he can, he’s called away.

Ezra already waits for you at the top of the stairs, hidden in the shadows but still so distinct among them.

He doesn’t tease you, doesn’t even greet you. His presence seems so different with how intense he stares at you. Simply moving to intertwine his hand with yours, he guides you to his room. Inside it’s like the world melts away. It’s only you and him.

He devours you, ravenous, like trying to both make up for lost time and also feel like not a day has passed. Your hands run through his hair, knock off his cowboy hat.

You hate how badly you’ve missed this, missed him. He’s the only man your body has known, and the nights you’ve ached for him your fingers never did him justice.

When you’re bare among his bed, and his fingers slide into your wet core, you whine against his lips.

“This cunt still mine, pretty girl?” He asks mutter.

You wearily nod then all thoughts shatter when he rubs against that certain spot you can never reach. Your body crashes in a climax so shakily fast you have to catch your breath against him.

Ezra kisses the top of your head over and over.

“That’s my sweet peach,” he says in awe.

You greedily now pull him towards you, aching even more for him to be inside.

But he’s not finished with you. Ezra greed swallows your sigh before his lips move down your bare body to your core and kisses you with reverent devotion.

Your body melts into the sheets feeling his tongue trace paths among your wet cunt.

Ezra firmly calls your name. It sounds like your soul is being brought back. Wearily you sit up to see him peering up at you between your legs. Slowly he lifts himself away from your cunt, his face glistening with your arousal.

Those obsidian eyes of his blazing in the candlelight lock you in their gaze. Keeping eye contact with you he suddenly spits down to your wet aching sex, and your mind spins.

It’s obscene, you should be disgusted and horrified. You even wonder if you’ve been transported to the brothel a few ways down the road. But it feels absolutely divine especially when he does it again.

“Oh she likes this.” Ezra coo’s then presses ever the softest kiss against your soaked throbbing pearl. “This pretty little cunt, my lovely lady, ache for me huh?”

You don’t argue with him. You don’t want to. He makes you come again and a creature raw and hungry awakens in you. You claw at him, now needing him inside.

It’s like a piece of yourself returns when Ezra slides into you. It’s hot, heavy, frantic but feels sacred.

Ezra must sense it too, because he doesn’t last long. When he spills over your tummy, his hands become claws and keep you caged in his grasp. Your con artist kisses every inch of you he can.

Sweaty and tangled in him, you still feel a tinge of sadness creep in.

“You left me.” You whimper against his lips.

“And it will haunt me until my dying breath.” Ezra sighs back, his voice weighing heavy. “I was planning to come back for you, my bird. But your mother…”

She had put a bounty out on your drifter, managed to get the sheriff on her side. You knew even in your anger at Ezra leaving, it was smart of him to escape.

His hand cradles your face, and his thumb strokes your cheekbone. Those endless eyes shimmer in the low light.

“But I’m here now, pidge.” Sincerity radiates from him.

You’re now able to bask in his beauty - his gorgeous jaw, his beautiful nose, the striking streak of blonde hair that has been hidden under his hat and you’ve been dying to see.

You nuzzle your face into his palm.

“What are you doing here? Truly?” You ask.

“I told you,” Ezra says, drawing your face towards him to kiss you tender again. “I’m here to try and prove myself victorious.”

You’re not sure you believe his words.

But you end up staying with him. Early morning, before the sun reaches over the desert, his fingers trace your face waking you up.

“Dawn bathes you in her glory.” He mutters. Embarrassed at his words you burrow your face into the pillow.

He doesn’t chase you, but instead lets his fingers draw aimless shapes against your shoulder.

“There wasn’t a day where you did not occupy my mind, even after all these years.” Ezra admits low, as if he didn’t realize those words escaped him.

Slowly you turn towards him and discover those deep eyes hazed over staring at you.

“I hate you.” You tell him without any malice. In fact an emotion something very opposite of hatred soaks your words.

“I know. I’d hate me too.” Ezra agrees muttering then leans down to kiss you gingerly.

You have to leave before the town wakes up, and to seal your alibi.

With a final kiss goodbye, you head to the tailor shop.

Julie finds you in the shop when she arrives and applauds you for your diligence and wanting to get a jump start on inventory. You’re thankful the lie worked out this way. You even manage to convince her to let you finish inventory the rest of the week. Of course she happily agrees.

Ezra drops by to pick up his riding gloves and winks at you shamelessly. You roll your eyes but hate how badly you fight against a grin.

The next few days are spent between the shop and the motel. You already brace your heart for Ezra’s departure approaching once the tournament is over, but you try not to face that.

“You’ve been in a rather good mood.” Your aunt notices when you stop by to drop off goods for her.

“Thought you hated inventory.” She comments.

“Guess not.” You reply with a shrug.

This blissful cloud you’re walking in however does cloud your mind. It makes you sloppy. Instead of taking the longer path to the motel, the one that kept you away from the views of the main road and town, you walk straight into town.

Running right into Duke Williams.

He says your name bright and clear. Dread dawns on you fast.

“Haven’t seen you ‘round. Heard Julie’s got ya working extra hard.” Duke smiles.

You hate this small town and the small whispers that spread like wildfire.

You reassure Duke you’re fine and are even glad you can help Julie.

All his friends, in their sleek cowboy hats, and dusty spurs, stand off to the side snicker. They crowd around each other like an ominous pack of wolves.

One of them even calls your name.

“Might wanna enjoy this freedom while it last!” He proclaims, and your stomach twists.

The other guys snickers, shushing him playfull, and even Duke turns around to reprimand him.

“What does he mean by that?” You cautiously question.

Duke simply waves the conversation off instead offering to walk you to the tailors.

You politely decline.

“Aw come on, sweet thing like you shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” Duke smiles but even with his sweet eyes you’re reminded of a crocodile now.

“Well gentleman, that’s why i’ll accompany this lovely bird to her destination.” Emerging from the shadows Ezra grins warm.

He must have come to find you after you hadn’t shown up at the motel.

The men including Duke go eerily silent. Ezra is older than Duke and the younger men. So he holds seniority now. But besides that, Duke now seems wary, and you don’t blame him. Ezra is a man that radiates a sort of unpredictable energy.

“You sure you don’t want me to walk ya back now?” You almost appreciate the slight genuine worry leaking into Duke’s voice. But shaking your head you move to walk with Ezra by your side.

You do hate how all eyes are on you, even walking away from Duke and his mindless followers.

“Just remain calm.” Ezra mutters.

You do especially with him by your side. By the time you open the tailors you thank Ezra, worried Duke and his men are still watching.

You whisper for him to meet you behind the shop, and he does. Your swindler willingly steps into the back room with you.

“Not my ideal choice for our evening, but I do love a good change of scenery.” Ezra comments amused browsing around the storage. Playfully, you throw a ball of yarn at him.

You’re surprised he even helps you with the small bit of inventory you do.

“That young buck…” until his voice comes out low. “He’s fond of you.”

“Unfortunately.” You reply back unamused.

“Earlier at the saloon…he was boasting.” Ezra continues with the same serious tone.

“About enjoying the last days of being an unmarried man.”

That causes you to pause.

“Must mean he’s gotten over me.” You sigh, thank goodness.

“No pidge…” Ezra stops to turn towards you. “He was proclaiming how you were to be his bride.”

Your stomach drops.

You think of the way the boys just now snickered almost knowingly, and that strange comment one of themselves said -

All of it makes your stomach sick, and you have to sit down.

No. There was just no way.

“I’d never accept his proposal.” You snap out hating how badly your body feels frantic, almost skittish like a cornered road runner.

Ezra kneels before you rubbing your hand with his, a strange solid comfort.

Eventually he gathers you into his arms and calms you with soothing soft words.

“We’ll figure out a solution.”

You still don’t know if you can trust his words. But that's all you have. Your drifter stays with you overnight in the tailor shop. You even feel sinful fucking him in the back room but it’s deliciously sinfull all the same.

Sitting and resting against the work desk you fade in and out of sleep. Tender fingers brush against your fingers, ghost like. Ezra is gone by the time you wake up and Julie’s entering the shop jolts you awake.

Her eyes are frazzled.

“Did you hear? Mister Johnston’s eldest son was shot down early this morning.”

You hadn’t heard. Dread fills you fast when you realize Johnston's boy was the one who had made the joking comment to you last night.

There’s talk about postponing the competition. But others in town, especially Duke, argue to continue the tradition in a way to honor the fallen young man.

An ominous terror looms in you.

Later that night, you return to the motel. Too many thoughts swarm in your head, and Ezra even seems distant. He even slides his duster jacket one before kissing you.

“I have some personal matters to attend to, pidge. Get some respite here.”

His boots echo down the hall and then down the stairs.

You can’t sleep. So you move to slide open the window and let some of the night air in.

The faint mutter of discussion very close outside in the alleyway floats into the room.

It’s muffled at first, but once you step closer and concentrate, you pick up the very familiar cadence of a certain drifter.

“No no, I have it covered. As long as you make sure to double the bets on me tomorrow.” Ezra explains in a hush.

The others with him explain the different amounts they’ve collected, and it hits you.

He’s gambling on the competition.

That’s why he’s here.

You knew the men at the saloon often bet, but this feels heavier.

A new clicking of spurs arrives.

“Y’know, you fellas look like a dangerous bunch all here hidden in the shadows.” Duke.

Panic prickles all over your body.

“Now young buck, we’re just here partaking in a fun and friendly wager.” Ezra with his smooth talking skills deflates the tension easily.

“Waggerin’ on what?” You’re surprised Duke immediately quickly jumps in to gamble.

Ezra and the other men begin conspiring on how to make sure Duke wins to favor the odds of their bets.

“I like the sound of that.” Duke grins.

He makes a hefty wager on himself to win, the price even makes someone whistle.

They offer to place their wagers on him as well and with Ezra even in the competition, he’s argued to be an even better reassurance that the outcome falls in their favor.

Ezra even swears by this.

They’re fixing the match, going to cheat. You don’t know how to feel about any of this.

They end their discussion, and you quietly slide back into bed. Before long Ezra returns, the smell of tobacco and the cold air lingers in the room.

His fingers dance against your shoulders while your back stays to him.

“You’re only here… to make money, and cheat.” You mutter hollow.

His fingers stop.

“You overheard.”

You don’t reply to him. Ezra sighs.

“Indeed I am. But I’m no different than the gentlemen that place simple wagers on a game of horseshoe.” He explains low, under the whisper of the candle flicker.

“But it’s like you’re wanting to play with a weighted or lighter horseshoe.” You argue back.

“Is it not in our best natures to make sure Lady Luck favors us by any means possible?”

You don’t know how to reply to him.

“…I’m doing this for you, for us.” He adds.

You turn to him, your face scrunching up in fury.

“Bullshit.” You tell him.

“Believe me a liar, but I’m honest in my endeavor.” His face becomes a firm steeled frown.

You can’t look at him anymore, turning your back again to Erza in bed.

“My hope was to gain enough funds to pay for the bounty your mother placed on me, return for your hand, and make our way into a new life together.” His voice is steady.

“Unless you wish to stay here and wed that Duke.” He offers.

You whip back to glare harsh at Ezra.

There’s a silence heavy and ancient like the desert that settles between you. But it doesn’t last long before Ezra leans down and sweeps in to capture your lips

The discussion dies immediately as passion burns in its place.

You don’t think of gambling cowboys, or of your mysterious drifter, only of the moment consuming you now, and you almost pray you never leave it.

- ☾𖤓 -

Late in the night, wearily half sleep, the bed shifting jolts you awake, and you even hear the door creak open. Before you can ask Ezra if he’s alright, your eyes so sleepy flutter close for a moment. Then he’s sliding back into the warmth pulling you close into his arms. You fall right back to your dreams.

In the early hours of the morning, Ezra kisses your jaw.

“My lucky charm, are you going to observe our tournament today?” He mutters.

The competition was today.

“You nervous?” You had never seen him ride much less try ranch hand work.

“Never.” He says smoothly.

Eventually he slides out of bed and lets you get ready. But soon Ezra walks over and places something in your hands.

The pistol weighs heavy, cold. And your eyes snap open wide now fully awake.

“Why-”

He cuts you off gently. “You know how to fire, yes?”

You nod weakly.

A small smirk tugs at his handsome lips. “Figured as much, after seeing your mother.”

It’s an attempt to tease, but too much terror bubbles in you.

“I just need to know you’re protected.” Ezra reveals, but with a croak you ask why.

“Cause unfortunate as it might be, it’s even more dangerous for a criminal like me to cherish something.”

Your eyes water. There are too many questions in your head, but the day will be starting soon. You need to leave before you’re spotted.

“Tell me you have another gun.” You snap at him.

Ezra simply taps the side of his head. “Don’t need another firearm when I have this weapon.”

You angrily throw the pistol down back to the bed, refusing to take it. That’s when he snaps your name, hard and serious.

You’ve never heard his voice raise like that.

“Take it.” He grabs the firearm and hands it back to you. His midnight eyes are ominously serious with no room for argument.

His hand grabs your face firm in his hand. Your eyes search his endless midnight lake eyes.

“I call you pidge, my little pigeon bird. But I’ve known right from the start you’re a fierce creature. Don’t ever forget that.”

Ezra’s words are beautiful but barbed. They rip up tracks in your heart. He kisses you quick, fierce and short. You hate how it feels like a goodbye.

With shaking hands and confusion, you slide the gun into your satchel. You walk back to your aunt's cabin in a daze. So much so that you barely notice she’s already awake when you sneak back in.

“You have fun at the motel again?” She asks, and fear freezes you.

“I wasn’t-”

“Mac, your uncle’s good friend, gave me the heads up.” She cuts you off softly.

Mac, the innkeeper. God damn this small town. Venom, anger, indignation, they all swirl violently in you.

“Whatever you’re doing there, you’re only gonna find danger.” She says somber, and you stay quiet.

Your aunt sighs.

“You’re lucky this hasn’t gotten out yet. What would young Duke say if he found out?”

Frustration bursts in you, and you snap furious about why would you even need to care about that man’s opinion of you.

“Because he plans on weddin’ you, and I plan on letting him.” Your aunt fires back and her words shoot right through you.

Your legs feel like they’re about to give out, even have to steady yourself against the nearby chair.

You thought your aunt understood. She’s been alone, a widow since she was around your age, longer than your mother had been a widow. You thought she’d never fall into the trap of forcing marriage.

“It’s for your own good.” She argues, watery urgent m. “You need protection, a home, a husband to provide for you.”

You rush out of the house even ignoring the screams from your aunt.

You’d have to think of a plan fast. Maybe leave with Ezra once the competition ends today. It’s all too much. You swallow back a sob and walk back into town.

The competition was today after all.

The day at the shop is very short. Julie doesn’t even notice your somber atmosphere as she’s completely caught up in the excitement of this day. So many more wagons stretch around the edge of town.

Pecos flutters alive with life.

But there’s already commotion, a dangerous kind that chokes the competition tense.

Duke yells loud and furious. The sheriff along with his deputies are nearby. Thankfully you spot Martha and quickly move to ask her what’s going on.

“Duke’s horse is missing.” She whispers.

From what Martha says, when Duke went to the stables this morning the gate was open and his horse was nowhere to be seen. His trusty companion, you even knew how serious an issue this is.

“Well young buck, if you’re that upset then maybe you shouldn’t partake in the festivities.” Ezra, out of thin air, offers.

He looks confident as he strolls up.

“Or you simply ride with another mare?” He proposes with a coy optimism.

“Fuck you!” Duke snaps at Ezra and even looks as if he’s going to lunge.

Your heart hammers hard in your chest. Thankfully the sheriff settles the commotion down.

Angered but stubborn, Duke declares he’s staying to compete and will simply use another horse. He is favored to win after all.

Other cowboys from out of town have blown in like packs of tumbleweed. So many of them are excited to participate and try their hand at showing off their rancher skills

Some are good.

But it is Ezra who proves to be the dark horse, the surprise underdog.

Watching him on his stallion, your throat goes dry seeing how effortless and strong he manages his horse. You never knew he could ride. The way he maneuvers and stays a quiet presence, he reminds you of an outlaw.

“Moves like a bandit.” Someone in the crowd even whispers.

His rope throwing skills however surprise everyone, including yourself. The calf he manages to wrangle takes you by shock. A dangerous lust slithers over your body watching him wrangle the animal with his strength and sturdy form.

But you realize -

This wasn’t what had been planned. From the discussion given last night, Ezra was meant to perform poorly to make sure Duke did better.

But this is exactly the opposite.

He’s the lead runner for champion of the competition.

And then Duke’s turn arrives. The crowd mummers curious, on edge waiting for the favored cowboy to make his move.

The horse he uses is not cooperative. Duke screams, unable to hide his frustration in wrangling the creature.

But once he stabilizes a manageable ride, he goes to lasso the calf. His rope lands and the crowd cheers. He’s already faster than Ezra.

Until the frayed rope snaps and the calf yanks itself free.

The crowd gasps.

It’s not an immediate disqualification, but it doesn’t look good. Duke argues that his rope was frayed and that someone must have slowly started cutting at it. However it’s a long shot argument. There’s no way to prove that and even the sheriff seems a little wary of the accusation.

“That’s just the way rope is son, you just gotta keep an eye on it.”

Duke screams in anguish canyon splitting anger. You’ve never once seen him like this. It’s like it’s a whole new man, or maybe, his true self being revealed.

He’s offered another rope, but it’s almost horrifying to watch that one as well snap. The crowd again gasps.

This wasn’t the outcome meant to happen.

“Duke’s cursed.” Someone mumbles.

The crowd is in disbelief, you even are. The last remaining competitors try their luck, but none can beat Ezra’s speed.

You can’t believe it. But he won.

And Duke is livid. The crowd tentatively applauds Ezra’s win because of the somber mood clashing.

“You bastard! You goddamn cheated!” Duke screams at Ezra while the deputies try settling him down.

“Poor boy,” Ezra says sympathetically before turning to find you in the crowd.

There’s a gleam of something proud shimmering in his dark eyes.

You don’t question it, don’t want to.

Ezra truly is a man of many facets, dangerous ones, like looking at a raw gemstone that could cut your fingers.

The competition spills into the nearby saloons, and the festivities only seem to intensify as the sun starts setting. You can’t even reach Ezra from the groups swirling around him and want to get as far away from Duke as possible.

So you return back to the tailor shop. Julie urges you to join her and the other women at the mayor’s large property, but you decline.

You simply sit in the store trying to muster up a plan. But in a blink, the night arrives and you have to find Ezra.

So after locking up the shop, you head to the motel.

Until the sound of Duke’s screaming and the rage of violence roars nearby.

You freeze, terrified.

Until someone wearily coughs. “That’s what ya get for gamblin’ with bandits, boy.”

Your swindler’s distinct twang drawls smug and now your body rushes to the secluded alleyway.

You swallow back a scream at the sight you stumble upon. Duke with blood fists has Ezra pinned against the wall, like a mythological creature, terrifying and large looking over with violence in his wake.

Ezra’s face is bloody and one of his arms even hangs limp.

“Pidge.” He coughs, and your heart aches.

Duke whips around to see you and barks for you to leave.

Shakily you snatch down to your bag, and whip out the gun to point it to him. Duke’s face falls a bit confused.

“Honey this man wronged me, I’m only enacting my justice.” He argues.

You snap at him to let Ezra go or else.

That’s when a sinister evil darkens Duke’s golden boy face.

“So, ya little god damn whore…you’re workin’ with this man aren’t ya? I knew I should’ve listened to all the rumors about a slut like you.” He spits with venom leaking from his voice.

“Don’t you touch her.” Ezra snarls, but Duke pays him no mind keeping his sinister eyes on you.

“What?” Duke slowly mutters. “Do ya really think you’re gonna shoot me?”

Tears fill your eyes. You don’t want to, but the way your heart races like a terrified Jack rabbit it screams at you to flee. But… you also wonder if your heart races because it’s urging you to attack, to bare your fangs.

Instead of releasing Ezra, Duke moves to grip his coat harder. He slams your drifter hard and fast against the wall. A painful crack-like smack comes, and you scream.

You fire the gun instantly.

Duke blinks, you even wonder if you landed a hit.

Until deep dark crimson, almost the color of dark sludge, leaks across Duke’s side. He crumbles like a fall leaf.

You cry scrambling to Ezra who thankfully is still standing. Duke wheezes out obscenities and even tries hollering for help. You’re however too worried about Ezra.

“M’fine,” your drifter reassures with a wheeze.

“Hand me the gun, dearest.” Ezra somberly mutters. When you do, without hesitation Ezra fires the gun point black down at Duke. And your eyes shut hearing the pistol strike. Duke goes quiet and stays silent.

“Come on, we gotta hurry.” Ezra urges.

Supporting his body, you manage to get him into the tailor shop to tend to his wounds.

Ezra coughs out your name. “M’dearest, I need to make my escape out of town once more.” His breathing his heaved, he needs to rest.

“Don’t leave me.” You cry sharp, unable to focus on anything now.

His hand slides to your face and he cradles you tenderly. You clutch at his wrist as you blink back tears starting at him now.

“It will not be a pleasant life, staying with a devil like me.” He mumbles.

Doesn't he realize, you’re just as tarnished as him now? Blood is on your hands. You simply turn to kiss the palm of his hand feeling more reassured than ever.

“I’d rather be with the devil than live without him.” You speak soft into his skin while tears dry on your cheeks.

He barks a hollow but watery thick laugh as he says your name. “You foolish bird, my lovely dangerous creature.”

The desert is unforgiving to those who do now learn to grow fangs or become just as fierce as its landscape. You wonder if that’s what has become of you. But you don’t question it. You simply gather all you can, steal one of the horses from the saloon and keep Ezra close to you on the saddle.

If Ezra is a devil, then you’re grateful he saved you from your hell. And for him, you will gladly stain your soul.

Under the eternal eyes of the desert, you wander into the night keeping your bandit close to you.

In the distance a lone coyote howls aching at the moon.

You don’t look back once.

[skyfullofpods]

Random Podcast Recommendations Mega-List Part 1!

Updated: 07/12/23

Collected here in part 1 because tumblr has a limit of 100 links per post of my alphabetical list are the fiction podcasts from A-M I've recommended so far for my random podcast recommendations! Part 2 is here

A A Ninth World Journal Afflicted Aishi Online Alba Salix Among the Stars and Bones Apollyon Arden ars PARADOXICA

B Back Again, Back Again The Ballad of Anne & Mary The Beacon Believer Black Friday Breaker Whiskey The Bright Sessions

C CARAVAN Chaika Chain of Being Civilized Coexistence Come On In, The Water's Fine Copperheart Counterbalance

D Death by Dying Desert Skies Desperado Diary of a Space Archivist Dining in the Void Directive Do You Copy Dos: After You Down

E The Earth Collective Elaine’s Cooking for the Soul Electromancy The End of Time and Other Bothers Ethics Town Exoplanetary Everything is Alive

F Falling Forward Fan Wars: The Empire Claps Back The Far Meridian Fireside Folktales Folxlore Forgive Me!

G Gay Future Georgie Romero Is Done For Girl in Space The Goblet Wire Gone Great & Terrible Greater Boston Greenhouse

H Hallway to Nowhere Hand in Glove Harlem Queen Hauntingly Humdrum Hello From the Hallowoods Hi Nay Hit the Bricks Human Error

I Immunities InCo Inhale Inn Between In Transit

J Janus Descending Jar of Rebuke Joy to the World Jupiter Saloon

K Kalila Stormfire's Economical Magick Services Kane and Feels Keep It Steady The Kingmaker Histories

L The Last Echoes Less is Morgue Liars & Leeches Life On Pause Light Hearts LIMBO Lost Terminal Love and Luck

M Margaret's Garden Margaritas & Donuts The McIlwraith Statements Me and AU Mercury: A Broadcast of Hope Meteor City Middle:Below Moonbase Theta, Out

[of-solitude-past-and-present]

Hidden in the Sands (Yandere!Naga!Kunikuzushi)

Warnings: Character Death (not reader, not kuni), Some Gore (description of a corpse), Injury (of reader), Monster AU, implied semi-cannibalism (he isn't human but close enough), some blood (mostly not reader's, a little is kuni's), biting, venom, graphic description of venom effects (used on reader non-lethally), kuni-typical insults, venom effects are made up, kuni tries to kill you (at first but doesn't follow through), reader has a semi-near-death experience, threats, kidnapping, imprisonment, nonconsensual touching (SFW ofc), general yandere themes, kunibaby is Not Nice but it's okay because he's hot, reader goes through the wringer... if you prefer soft yandere, this is probably not for you. loosely based on a rp I did with a friend.

Sorry I lied about the rook and sebek HCs. I have Sebek's pretty much done I think, but Rook remains an enigma. Might post them separately, idk.

Kuni's appearance is inspired by the desert horned viper. If the formatting seems a little weird at any point, it's because tumblr messed it up when I copy/pasted it here. Might fix it later.

6.5k words or so.

The Desert of Hadramaveth.

You haven't been here before. You thought the rest of the desert was bad, between the heat which was "enough to melt a mist flower but not really" (paraphrased from a certain fox friend) and the unforgiving terrain.

This was worse, with its near-constant sandstorms. This was the second one today, and you had only just left the Tanit camp. In other areas of the desert, you were begging for a reprieve from the sun, but here, you were almost begging for it back if it meant you didn't have to worry about getting sand in your eyes and throat. It was almost, almost enough to make you consider turning around and dropping the commission.

"Do you want to hear a dry joke?"

If it weren't for your friend here, you probably would. Unfortunately, you can't turn back now that you've gotten his hopes up. The most you can do is slump your shoulders and sigh, suffocating under the endless heat, what little you could see of the sun, and what you knew was coming next.

"Sure, I'll bite."

A large, beaming grin spread across Sanad's face, and you braced yourself.

"A desert."

"That's terrible."

"Oh, come on! It's funny and you know it!"

"Does that even count as a proper j-"

You paused, looking up at the sky. In the distance, you could see a large, beige cloud. Again?

"We need to find shelter. There's a sandstorm coming."

"Well, looks like we're in luck. Where isn't shelter?" he responded.

It was true. You and Sanad were somewhere just north of the Tanit Camps, near Wadi Al-Majuj. Ahead of the both of you was the entrance to a deep canyon, lined with ancient ruins. According to the map, it was called Pairidaeza Canyon. Behind you, there was another entrance to a different canyon, and according to your map, if you went back a ways and to the right, there'd be a third one.

"Come on, let's go! I need to look through these for my thesis!" He rushed, running ahead of you.

"Careful!" you called out. "There might be bandits down there."

He immediately slowed to a stop, sheepishly turning around to move back to his place next to you.

"On second thought, take your time. Just make sure there's nobody else in there."

You chuckle, already starting a reasonable pace down the steep slope into the canyon. "Thought so. Just a reminder, we're leaving immediately once the sandstorm ends, unless we find who or what we're looking for."

Right. What you were looking for. Recently, small groups of travelers and even large caravans were being attacked. Most of the attacks occurred between the Tanit Camp and around the Passage of Ghouls. A few supplies were usually stolen, but that wasn't the worst part.

A few days later, the rotting corpse of one of the travelers or nomads would be found, half-eaten and with a twin set of puncture marks in their throat. Any useful supplies would be missing, but oddly enough, the mora was almost never taken.

Normally, you'd assume that maybe it was just a deranged serial killer, and either the bodies were eaten by wild animals or the culprit was worse than you thought. But it was strange. What serial killer had fangs like that? And if it was a wild animal, what use would they have for supplies like bedrolls and first aid kits?

The survivors usually all said the same thing; they were caught out in the middle of a sandstorm, and all they heard was a scream or shout before one of their friends disappeared. When the body was found, some key survival supplies would be missing as well. When a caravan was attacked, some supplies (and occasionally people) would even be snatched right off the backs of the desert sumpter beasts.

Hence why you and your friend Sanad were out here to crack this strange case. Mostly you, though, since Sanad only wanted to take a gander at the desert ruins for some Akademiya thing. You'd probably have gone alone (or at least tried to, before you decided the mora wasn't worth it) but when he heard that you were going to this section of the desert, he insisted on coming for his thesis or something like that. He helped pay for the trip, and he was paying you personally, so you had no reason to refuse. He was your friend, and good company to boot, even if he was a little bit skittish.

"Well, that might be possible... but you said you didn't even know if the culprit was a person, didn't you?" he inquired, as the both of you passed the first of the ruins in the canyon.

You sighed. "Yeah, I told you all about that already."

A glimmer of excitement appeared in his eyes. "Well, I've been thinking since then, and I remembered this old desert legend! Have you heard of nagas?"

"Nagas?" you parroted.

"Yes, nagas!" He nodded his head. "They're an ancient race of ferocious half-human half-snake people that supposedly existed during the reign of King Deshret. Apparently they were equal parts revered and feared, as wise and strong beings."

You raised a somewhat skeptical brow. "I thought you didn't believe in legends?"

He laughed. "The Akademiya has declared them to be just baseless nonsense, so of course I don't think they actually exist. I just think it's very interesting, and it technically matches what we know..." He trails off, looking around in awe.

"If you want to look around, you can. Tell me if you see or hear anything."

You didn't need to tell him twice. With a rushed "thanks!" and a wave, he was practically bouncing up what probably used to be a set of stairs to a higher level within the ruins, off to your left. In the meantime, you'll look around, see if you can find anything interesting.

You looked up and around, spinning on your heels. From what you've seen of the canyon so far, it's just a straight corridor with partially collapsed stone ruins on both sides, and a fallen wooden bridge that once connected them. You can see several ways to climb up higher and explore the ancient stone buildings, including the way up that Sanad went.

You and Sanad are pretty deep into the canyon at this point, and you have to crane your head just to see the top. As you do this, you notice just how many floors there are in the ruins. Some have crumbled so much they seem almost completely inaccessible. They're so high up, you can't see anything on them from your angle at the bottom.

There's just so many places to hide. The realization makes you tense up a little. Maybe you should have gone up with him.

It's so strange though. The complicated ruins, numerous hiding places, and the nearby water would make this place an ideal camping spot for bandits and thieves. But so far, you haven't seen hide or hair of anyone else. Not even an abandoned camp.

Until somewhere in the ruins, you hear an odd sound. It's hard to make out, and it sounds so much like the normal shifting sand that you almost brush it off as a natural sound in the canyon. But you hear stone crumbling and rocks falling, and you look up, seeing something move on the side of a ledge too far above you to check. It's close enough that some of the rocks hit the ground next to you. You squint, watching the ledge, waiting for whatever it was to move again, but the sound stops. The hair on your neck stands on end–from what, you aren't sure. Sanad is even closer to the source of the sound than you are, but not far away at all. Just out of sight. Was it from him? Or someone watching him?

Or are they watching you?

You're not sure, and you'll check just in case. Sanad doesn't have anything to defend himself with except for a dagger. Without another thought, you surge up the stone steps, hand subconsciously finding its place on the pommel of your sword. When you get up there, you see him standing with a hand on his chin, studying some old glowing contraption you've never seen before.

"Did you hear that?" you ask, breathing just a little heavier than normal.

He turns to you somewhat incredulously, just as fine as ever. "Hear what? I haven't heard anything. Are you alright?"

You calm down a little bit, letting your hand fall from your sword. "I'm fine. I was just worried about you. Didn't you hear that noise? I saw something move up there." You look up at the ledge the rocks came from. You don't see any way to get up there that's safe.

The sand is starting to pour in harder through the massive gap in the canyon ceiling, and the wind is beginning to howl. You and Sanad are slowly being dusted in sand.

"You're a little on edge. Relax! A sandstorm is starting and the wind and sand probably just knocked a few rocks into the canyon or something. It happens all the time." He flashed you a reassuring smile, turning back to... whatever those were on the wall. They're shaped somewhat like bowls, and as sand pours into them, sand also pours out a hole in the side into another one of them. You're not the researcher here, so you ignore it.

You let go of some of the tension in your shoulders, letting out a held breath. "Alright, sorry for bothering you then. Just so you know, if the sandstorm gets any worse, we'll be moving deeper into the canyon to get out of the sand."

He turns back to you, somewhat pleading. "But can't I stay? I'm not the one looking for the guy, so you don't need me to come with you, right?"

You expected this, just as you expect that he'll be the one choosing to come with you after what you say next. "Yeah, you could, but if something happens I probably won't be able to hear it if I'm down there."

He freezes, grimacing a bit. "Alright, alright. Let me know when you move on."

As expected.

You chuckle at him with a lopsided smile, turning back to go down the ramp. He was probably right. It seemed like such a silly thing to panic over. Of course sand and rocks would shift and fall in the desert during a sandstorm. That's probably all you saw. You're glad you brought Sanad along and not some other stuck-up researcher who would have made fun of you for it.

When you reach the bottom again, you turn your attention to the ground. Aside from the sounds of the howling wind and pouring sand, you can hear water dripping as it coalesces into the wide but shallow puddle in front of you. That's not what interests you, though.

There's a long indentation in the sand, about as wide as you are, as if something had been dragged through. It extends further into the cave, where the ground becomes rockier and the track disappears.

You crouch down to inspect them further. Chances are, it's probably a large haul of supplies that was too big to properly carry. This place is the perfect hideout for thieves and bandits, so it would be worthwhile to investigate. If you're lucky, it might be the bandit you're looking for.

The canyon starts to darken, so much so that you now have trouble making out the edges of the track. Most of the sunlight that filtered in through the top has disappeared behind a haze. The sound of howling wind grows louder, and the hiss of pouring sand all around you is almost deafening. You've had quite enough of the sand raining on and around you, so you call out for Sanad to come back. It doesn't take him long to come rushing back down the way he came.

"We're heading deeper in to wait out the rest of it," you explain.

He sends a longing look back at where he had come from. "Alright... I see," he concedes, with a dejected slump of his shoulders.

You'll humor him. "Did you find anything interesting?"

He instantly brightens up, excited to talk about whatever he found. "Yes! It's this interesting mechanism that fills with sand. I read about it in a textbook once! It can be opened and closed, but I couldn't figure out how to. I've heard if you can fill them as they were intended to be, you can get treasure from them!"

You two begin moving deeper into the canyon, and you send him a teasing smile. "With the way you're talking, I'd almost think you're the adventurer here."

He shudders. "I could never. At least, not as a full time job. You encounter monsters all the time, don't you?"

"They're not so difficult to deal with, once you're used to seeing them."

"That is not at all reassuring!" He stops to let out a breath. "No, I just want the free mora. Trips like these are expensive."

You sigh. "Well, if you want to, we can at least take a crack at it together on the way out of here."

His eyes light up again. "That's wonderful! We can even split the rewards if we manage to solve it!"

"No more than an hour, though," you warn. "With all the sandstorms, we don't have the time to waste."

"Aww, fair enough." A moment of silence passes, and he turns back to you. "Oh, I almost forgot to ask you! Did you find anything interesting?"

You think back, and the only thing that comes to mind are the tracks.

"Well, a little bit behind us, I found these drag marks. Like someone had dragged a big bag or something, I couldn't tell what."

"Drag marks? Oh, so maybe it really is a naga after all."

You turn to him in exasperation. "Didn't you just say you didn't believe in them? Besides, why'd you even tell me about them if you don't think they exist?"

He laughs. "I'm kidding! I only told you mostly because I wanted to. But I have a more realistic theory too!"

"Really now?" You raised a skeptical brow.

He turns to you, faking a gasp in faux offense. "Why are you looking at me like that? Of course I do! I don't study at the Akademiya for nothing!"

You chuckle. "Oh, go on then. Don't keep me waiting."

"What if the culprit keeps a snake around? Think about it, at the price of a little food, they'd get an unlimited supply of p–Hey! Don't laugh at me! It's not as ridiculous as it sounds!"

Apparently you weren't as good at hiding your snickers as you thought. "No, no, I'm not laughing at you. I was just imagining it in my head. From what I heard, it would have to be a pretty big one based on the size of the puncture wounds and the distance between the fangs."

He crossed his arms, looking away. Guess he didn't quite believe you. "It's not THAT unbelievable, especially in comparison to the naga theory... Haven't you seen the street performers with the snakes in Port Ormos?"

You hold your hands out in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay, you're right, I'm sorry. But your theory doesn't explain everything–what about the half-eaten bodies part? And they almost never take mora either... besides, the street performers use nonvenomous snakes."

"I guess it would be risky, but in theory, venomous snakes can be trained too! Desert dwellers tend to be... fearless. Though..." He puts a hand to his chin in contemplation, looking down. "I'm not quite sure about that other part either. Though it's not as if cannibalism was ever off the table, there's always the chance it was just wild animals that found the body after. As for mora... maybe it's someone who never gets the chance to spend it anyway?"

"Like, a recluse or something?" you pipe up.

"Yeah, exactly! Someone who's completely self-sufficient, who doesn't need to deal with other people to survive. Makes enough sense. They probably get everything they need from the people they're attacking."

At this point, the both of you are up to your ankles in water. The canyon is fairly wide at the bottom and grows so much narrower towards the top that very little sand makes it through, so you take the liberty of brushing as much of it off of you as possible. The both of you pass the last of the stone ruins. Up ahead is just bare, mostly untouched canyon. It's damp enough to support an amount of greenery that seemed a little out of place in the desert. You can still hear the wind howl, but it's a bit quieter here.

You and Sanad pass an opening in the wall to your right, leading to a dead end with a fairly deep pool and what looked to be a crumbled stone bridge.

"Your theory is a little... out there, but some of it definitely makes a good deal of sense."

"It's an early hypothesis! We'll revise it as we find more evidence."

You roll your eyes a bit. "It's alright, I'm not judging you."

You look around again. There's plenty of dry places to stop and rest without worrying about sand, so this should be an adequate place to wait it out.

"Why don't we stop here?"

"Not yet!" Sanad points further into the cave, where it opens up some more, with a rock jutting out of the center of the room, surrounded on one side by a shallow stream of water. "I can see more ruins in there! You can stop there and I can keep looking around."

You sigh, for what felt like the hundredth time. As much as you wanted to rest, it wasn't far away at all. "Alright. But we're still going back to that mechanism immediately once the sandstorm is over."

"I know, I kn–"

From an entrance to another path to your right came a blur, barreling right at Sanad. You have barely enough time to shove him behind you and out of its way before it stops in front of you both, dark claws bared.

Now that you can get a look at it, you realize it's a scarred, shirtless man with a dark head of hair, sharp indigo eyes, and... two pale, straight horns? Looking down, he doesn't have a pair of legs, but a sand-colored snakelike tail with rough scales. Even without the rest of his tail, which was hidden behind him, he's quite literally twice your size.

A naga?

He sneers at your sword as you pull it from your sheath, showing off a long pair of fangs. "A little short, isn't it?" He hisses. "Good luck with that."

"Sanad, get back!" You cry, holding your sword out in front of you threateningly. The naga seemed more amused than anything, simply starting to circle. Watching.

While you backed up to keep the naga from getting between you and Sanad, he hurriedly ran far back the way the both of you came, staying just close enough to watch the both of you.

Without warning, the naga lunged forward, one claw-tipped hand reaching out to swipe at you. You swung your sword at his arm, but missed, just barely grazing his side. Still, it was enough to force him back. He brushed over the superficial wound with one hand, smearing what little blood came from it, taking a look.

You stand there, adrenaline pumping through your veins, unsure of what to do. His reach was almost as long as yours, even though you were the one with the sword. This has to be who you're looking for, but you're beginning to think that you should've brought more people.

When he looks back at you, that cruel sneer is still set in his face, but a glint of annoyance is now present in his eyes.

"Lucky hit. Don't count on it happening again."

He doesn't hesitate, rushing forward immediately. You swing again, but it's too early, and he barely has to slow down before he's coming at you again. He's so close now that he grabs your shoulder, claws digging in hard enough to draw blood, shoving you down. In a blind panic, you're forced to adjust your grip on your sword so that you can bring your arm back and stab into his tail.

Before you even realize what's happened, you're on the ground, wind knocked out of your lungs. The arm that had held your sword is pinned to the ground by one of his hands, the other still holding onto your shoulder. You wheeze pathetically while he leans down and slides his fangs into your throat.

Your sword had bounced off of his scales, barely even leaving a mark.

The first thing you feel in your throat is pain, followed by an overwhelming numbing sensation, only interrupted by pins and needles. He chuckles as you thrash around in his hold, your free hand trying to push him off. The sensation is spreading, from your shoulder down even to your fingertips. The only thing you can do is let out a pained groan.

The pressure, from anything, from his hands on you to your own as you push and hit him, hurts. Like everything that touches you only pushes those pins and needles deeper into your skin. It's this feeling that finally makes you go limp in his hold, giving in. It gives you the chance to look up, focus on anything but him, and see that Sanad has long since abandoned you. Lucky bastard.

You hope that he gets away, at least. Even as the half-snake thing on you pulls away to hold your face in one hand, forcing you to look at him.

"Seems your little friend didn't care for you as much as you cared for him. Don't worry. I'll do you a favor and make sure he gets what's coming to him." You manage to focus on his face, smeared with your blood and that same, ever-present sneer, but with something else behind it. Something vindictive.

You grit your teeth. It stung, even though you knew it was the only reasonable thing for Sanad to do.

It's petty, and it won't do you any favors, but you lift your arm and slap him across the face as hard as you can. The impact alone sends shocks of pain down your arm, but he barely even moves.

Instead, he laughs in your face, dark amusement flitting across his hauntingly beautiful features. "What was that? A love tap? After everything, I'm surprised you can even try." He leans in closer still, your noses almost touching.

"I'm sure you feel proud of yourself, don't you? Good job! I might just leave you for last, then."

Without another word, he dashes off to find Sanad, and all you can do is pray the snake isn't successful. After all, what's a pampered Akademiya researcher to do against a man-eating monster?

You try to stand, but a bone-deep exhaustion pulls at your limbs. You can only get halfway up before your vision starts to go dark and you collapse onto the ground in a graceless heap. The pressure still hurts, a strange buzzing sensation rising alongside the needles and numbness. All you can do to help it is curl onto your side, minimizing your contact with the ground.

You lay there for a while, drifting in and out of consciousness for who knows how long. The pain is fading slightly, but you're not sure if it only feels that way because you're getting used to it.

Maybe you're dying.

A chill goes down your spine at the thought, and you do your best to dismiss it. It isn't hard, not when your thoughts are interrupted by a terrified, blood-curdling scream cut too short to be natural.

It brings you back to your senses. You keep listening, but you can't hear any more noises over the constant sounds of the canyon. Dripping water, falling sand, and the howling wind.

If that was Sanad, then since you're already deep within the snake's den, it must be only a matter of time before he gets back...

You're pushing yourself back on your feet before you know it, another rush of adrenaline supporting you. To do what, you're not sure. If you couldn't win before, you certainly can't now. But you're already running as best you can to where you saw Sanad go, though it's more of a relatively fast half-stumble than anything else. Everything still hurts, and beneath the venom you can start to feel your muscles ache too, but if you focus on moving it isn't unbearable.

You forgot your sword. You'd turn back to get it, but even with the adrenaline your limbs feel like lead, and your sword arm is so weak you don't think you could do more than carry it anyway.

You've just reached the ruins again, and looking around at all the nooks and crannies gives you the idea to hide. As sluggish and unarmed as you are, you can't fight anyway. Maybe if you hide long enough, he'll go away. Sanad might still be alive, if you can make it to him.

You don't know how long you were laying there, but if you could hear Sanad, they couldn't have gotten far. That fact is a double-edged sword, you realize. It's been a while since you heard his scream, and if the naga was coming back then it wouldn't be long until you saw him. You don't have much time.

You stagger your way as fast as you can manage to your right. You don't see anywhere to hide down at the bottom, but there are plenty of places above. It's so much harder than walking on flat ground, but you force yourself up a wooden ramp onto a stone platform. There aren't a variety of places to hide here, either, but you don't have the energy to go up any higher.

You hear the water below you being disturbed, in a way too constant to be footsteps, and you quickly duck forward to avoid being seen. You don't dare look, instead opting to slowly move towards a large stone statue to your right, as quietly as possible. With one look back to make sure he hadn't come up to check, you hide behind the stone dais that the statue rested on.

You take a breather, listening for any more sounds. You can't hear the water being disturbed anymore, but the thought of moving alone is both terrifying and exhausting. If you wait too long and he finds you gone, he'll probably come back to look for you. On the other hand, if you leave too early and he hears you...

With this in mind, you rest a few minutes more. The wind is slowing down, and there's less sand in the air than there was when you and Sanad first came through, so the sandstorm has likely stopped. At least the naga won't have that going for him too, once you and Sanad leave.

You'd stay longer, but the anxiety eats at you. It's only a matter of time until the naga comes back, and you don't know what condition Sanad is in.

You get up on shaking legs, your body begging you to sit back down and rest more. You know better, so you force yourself forward, looking over the ledge to make sure he isn't nearby.

You stumble back down the wooden ramp, turning to continue down the path to the exit. You have to stick to the sides of the path, where the sand is highest, just to make sure nobody can hear the sounds of splashing water.

Sanad can't be too far off now. Maybe he'll be in the same state you are, and you both can return to the Tanit camp and get help. You still have your pack on you, but the only thing that might be useful soon is the small first aid kit and the knife.

You really hope you won't need the knife.

Just in case, you pull it out of your pack and put in in your pocket. You're out of the water now, but you've come to a steep hill. The only way out is up. You hope you can make it.

You grit your teeth, sweat dripping down the side of your face as you force yourself up the incline. Onward and upward, you think bitterly. The overused phrase "ad astra abyssosque" parroted endlessly by everyone else at the Adventurer's Guild comes to mind. You never thought you'd make it to the stars or abyss to begin with, but you didn't think your journey would end so soon, either.

Your muscles burn with exhaustion, and you think you can feel the numbness slowly spreading further into your legs. Still, you continue upwards, at a much slower pace, even as you almost collapse a few times.

You come up to a point where the hill flattens out for a short distance. You're panting from the exertion, and you almost breathe a sigh of relief until you see what's in front of you.

"Sanad!"

Before you know it, you've staggered forward to collapse at his side. He's lying face-down on the ground in a small pool of his own blood.

You turn him over, tears pricking at your eyes, praying his condition wasn't as bad as it seemed. His head lolled to the side, face pale and eyes empty, unmoving. The blood, on the ground and splattered all over the front of his Akademiya robes, still dripped from the massive tear in his neck. It looked like a set of claws had dug into his skin and tore off the front of his throat.

Your breath hitches, and you fall backwards, dropping his body. Tears well up in your eyes. Why hadn't he done the same to you? Why did he do so much worse to-

"So, so loyal. Like a dog running to protect its master. You're adorable, really, even if you're a little late."

You freeze, only turning your head to look over your shoulder at him. He's slowly approaching, a condescending smirk on his lips. Half-dried blood covers one of his hands.

"There's no need to mourn. He was pathetic. Did you know that he only cared enough to fight when it was his life on the line?" He looked distant for a moment, before looking at you with something almost soft in his eyes. It disappeared so fast, you'd almost think you had imagined it, the condescending smirk and mock pity sliding to cover his face once more. "You poor thing. You're better off without him. No need to thank me."

You blink away the tears, an idea coming to mind. You couldn't overpower or outrun him, so there's only one possible option for you. "You're a... you're a lying bastard! What else was he going to do?" You yelled at him, pushing yourself up on unsteady legs to face him, backing over your friend's body.

"Humans are untrustworthy," he croons, following after you. His eyes don't leave you even once. He's sizing you up, and with nothing more than a moment of contemplation, his smirk widens and a victorious glint appears in his narrowed eyes. "He was using you. Once you were no longer useful to him, he discarded you. It's pretty naive to think he left you with any other thought in mind."

You don't dignify that with a response, continuing to back up. One of your hands almost moves down to your pocket, where your knife is hidden, but you stop it before he sees.

Your heel hits the sharp incline behind you, where the hill keeps going, and you fall backwards and hit the ground. A derisive snort comes from the snake.

"I've decided what I'm going to do with you. It's much better than what I did to your friend, here. You should thank me, really." He towers over you, leaning down to your level, setting a hand down on the ground next to you. Your hand twitches for your knife.

He watches you for a moment, a quiet, breathy laugh leaving his lips at your frozen state. All you do is stare at him, shaking from the adrenaline. Finally, his other hand comes up to rest on the nape of your neck, pushing you closer to him. You can feel the sticky blood on his fingers.

His eyes glimmer with excitement, and he continues while your hand slowly drifts to your pocket. "You're just helpless. I think I'm going to keep you with me, like a little p-"

You thrust your knife at him, landing a hit on his side while he lurches away. Your blood runs cold. It should have been buried hilt-deep, but instead all you've done is leave a bleeding gash. It's not quite superficial, but it won't stop him, and you know you won't be able to land another.

His lips curl in a snarl as you scramble backwards up the hill. You turn, and start running, but adrenaline can only carry you so far. You feel almost like you're in a nightmare, fully conscious and trying to run but unable to move at any pace that could possibly save you.

It only takes a moment for a large hand to wrap around your ankle, dragging you underneath him. Your face hits the ground and your hands scrabble for purchase, but the dirt and sand only give way beneath your fingers. His other hand finds the wrist with the knife, squeezing tightly enough that you can feel the pain, even underneath the lingering numb, buzzing sensation. You can't feel your hand well enough to keep holding onto the knife. The pins and needles return, and tears prick at your eyes.

He knocks the knife far away from you and flips you over to look at him, dark eyes still burning with anger. "You're alive only because I let you live. Did you really think trying that was smart? Did you finally get it all out of your system, or do you want to try again?"

You try to speak, but the words get caught on the lump in your throat. A hand slams on the ground next to you, and you shrink in on yourself.

"Well?" A glimmer of satisfaction appeared in his eyes, even as his lip curled in a mixture of amusement and contempt. "I'm waiting."

It's all you can do to croak out a few apologies and look away, unable to stand his stare.

A deep chuckle resonates from his chest, and his other face grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him again. "Good enough," he croons. "Looks like it won't be so bad for you, then."

"What? What won't?" you whimper. His hand lets go of your face, drifting down to encircle your neck. Your hands instinctively wrap around his wrist, silently begging him not to squeeze.

That little mocking smile on his face widens. His hand tightens a little, and you panic for a second, but it doesn't go any further. Instead, his eyes grow distant, thinking.

They brighten up again, an idea coming to mind. He laughs quietly to himself, pulling his other hand off the ground and trailing it down your leg. "You can call me... Kunikuzushi. I think I know what I'm going to do with you now."

"Please don't hurt me," you plead, vision blurring with tears. He doesn't even look at you, instead watching his hand as he grabs your calf and pulls it up. "It's a little late for that," he hums, adjusting his grip to hold onto your ankle instead. His fingers are long enough to wrap fully around it and then some.

"I can't watch you all the time, and I need to buy myself enough time to get something to restrain you with... besides, you deserve this anyhow."

You were about to ask him what he meant by that, but with a distressing amount of ease, he twisted your ankle to the side hard enough that you could hear the pop. The pins and needles returned to that area full-force, the buzzing and numbing sensations right behind it. It didn't hurt that much, though. You could feel an ache beneath it all, but it didn't hurt as much as it should have. You were sure you could still walk on it.

Until you looked down, where it was still in his hand, twisted so far to the side that you weren't sure it would ever be the same again. It doesn't hurt that much, but your shoulders still shake and you still start to cry.

"There, there," he murmurs, dropping your ankle to stroke your hair. He leans down lower, a smile a little too sharp to be soft on his lips. "You'll be okay. I wouldn't get a pet if I couldn't take care of it."

You try to push him away. You know you need to do something about your ankle, but he only presses closer, resting more of his weight on you so thay you can't see it anymore. "It's a bit too late for that now, don't you think?" he whispers, leaning in to press his lips against yours, too eager and with too much teeth. You flail a bit, trying to push him off, but he only chuckles into the kiss, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. An arm wraps around your waist, pushing you closer.

It feels like an eternity, but soon he's sweeping you up and slinging you over his shoulder. He turns around to go back down into the canyon, and you watch Sanad's corpse disappear over the hill.

This time, you can feel him rumble with the force of his laugh.

"I'm going to have so much fun with you."

[caesarinsalata]

So, this is gonna be a bit of a read, but I thought of a little AU idea and I kind of wrote a mock Prologue for it???

(yes I drew little doodles for it. End me lol)

Since it's set back in time when Xerxes was still a bustling empire, I figured Amestris would be in the 15th century of sorts. (Yes I know Amestris wasn't even made yet, but in this Medieval/Xerxes AU it is!)

Cause I looked into it and figured out Xerxes fell around 1480 or so?? So we're going with medieval Amestris.

It starts out with the trio being young (like 6 and 5 years of age) just so you have an idea.

So if y'all wouldn't mind taking a moment to read this little (3000?) Word excerpt I created out of my ass today, that would be awesome! Not promising it's in character or good 🤣👌🏽

TITLE: Achaemenid

PROLOGUE

Xerxes, a stand alone empire betwixt Xing and Amestris. No one dared challenge or overthrow this stretch of desert as a result of its King. He was ruthless and heartless at times. Yet Communicable and selfless at others. Alongside his majesty stilling the hearts of his enemies, no one particularly wanted such a vast wasteland. Nor could they grasp why an empire rose within the center of it.

The air surrounding Xerxes, upon approaching, was different somehow. No one could place it. All who came to the border of Xerxian territory felt as though something had passed through them or vice versa. The conspicuous distinction in the clearity of the desert sky on the other side of this “border” felt unnerving yet reassuring. At least the air looked sand free the closer the caravan trudged to their destination. The only effective means of travel in the desert was by camel back. Any other means was surely suicide.

“Are thee thirsty?”

The traveling company consisted of four camels, but five riders. Three were knights, bequeathed the honour of smuggling the remaining Rockbell family line from further extinction. They had been labeled traitors in their home country, Amestris. Despite being but a lowly old hag and orphaned child, the Queen wanted blood for crimes they had not committed. Someone on the inside, took action and fabricated the plan to get them to safety before the Queen decreed their sentence.

“Drink, before thy self run dry.”

The knight’s clothed arm held steady in front of Pinako Rockbell. She huffed a thank you, her aggravation more towards the scorching heat than him. After taking a drink herself, she gave the rest to Winry Rockbell, who sat in her lap.

“Drink child.”

Winry took the flask in her tiny hands, touching it to her lips and tilted it back. Finishing with a gasp of air, she felt much better. But a refreshing drink of water did nothing to wash away the fact that her parents were dead and are perceived to be traitors. She knew, without a doubt, that they were most certainly not. She wanted to cry again, but recalled granny telling her to conserve her fluids. This journey had been longer than she anticipated.

Finally coming across life of some kind, the caravan ventured across a bridge stretching over an irrigation system that seemed to go for miles in opposite directions. There were people actively digging the system down below. Hearing hooves shuffle across the stone, a handful of them turned to look up.

Winry ducked her head to escape their gaze, but soon was in awe of their odd features. Each and every one of them had gold hair that varied in shades. But what really caught her attention were the array of amber gold eyes staring her way. They varied in intensity as well, but each was piercing in their own right. She couldn't look away. After staring a moment, the people began to wave an arm in greeting in unison, smiles on their faces. They were oddly friendly to strangers. The people down below disappeared over the hump of the bridge once they crossed it and made it back to land, moreso sand.

The knight's accompanying them steered their herd towards a stable like building meant for housing the camels of travelers for their later departure. Except, they weren't leaving anytime soon, Winry thought. The knight's would leave them behind to burn under the hot sun. Although, now that they were in town, the sun didn't seem that bad anymore, but it still weighed on them.

Given Granny’s and Winry's size, the knights had to help them down off of the towering camels safely. Granny didn't like a grown man touching her, but she figured it would be best not to complain. They did all this for them. She took Winry's hand since she didn't feel safe in a foreign land whatsoever.

“Stay by my side, Winry.”

Winry noded and hid behind her as they walked down the center of the shopping district. A perfect place to attract travelers for money. Everyone they passed seemed to be happy to see them or at least friendly. Some would talk to each other and watch them pass. Granny didn't like being on display like this, she squeezed Winry's hand.

It felt like ages, but they finally walked to the center of the empire and scaled the thousands of stairs it took to get to the throne room. Winry wanted to slap this King or whatever. No one would want to come here and climb a mountain of stairs just for a King.

Once they basked in the vast throne room, the knights turned to Granny.

“Ma’am, the lass need not pay the King audience. Only thee must accompany us.” The knight speaking bowed, but Granny didn't like this idea.

“I'm not leaving her alone. She comes with me.”

“Ma’am…the King wouldn't-”

He was cut off by a tall young man, sporting a blonde beard and hair pulled back in a ponytail. “If I may?”

Pinako looked over and up to glare at whoever else wanted to take Winry from her. “Who are you? I'm not leaving her.”

The man put up his hands in surrender. He didn't take being yelled at very well. “I mean no harm, ma’am. Id like to suggest taking your…..granddaughter for the time being. I have two boys of my own she could distract herself with. I'm sure your conversation with the King will be short and sweet.”

“Like hell you think im-”

“Please please. I promise no harm will come to her. The King doesn't like children in his throne room. She would just upset him. Me on the other hand, I love them. She'll be safe with me.” He gave a pause and looked Pinako in the eyes, putting his hands together in a prayer form. “I promise.”

Pinako didn't care how many times he repeated himself, she didn't like this at all. Leaving her only granddaughter with a random stranger did not sit well with her.

The knight cut in this time. “Make haste, the King doesnt take nicely to waiting.”

“Alright alright. Fine. Get off my back will ya!” Pinako grumbled, turning to Winry. She grabbed both of Winry's hands this time and squeezed. “Winry. I don't want to do this, but you're going to be spending some time with that man there. I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

Winry nods. “Okay, Granny.” She looked to the blonde man smiling down at her. He wasn't unnerving or creepy. He looked really sweet and nice. He held his hand out and looked from Winry to Pinako.

“I will take good care of her for you. She'll have fun with my boys, I know it. Come come.”

Winry slowly took his hand and let go of Pinako’s. Neither looking like they wanted to go anywhere. Winry watched Granny go through the big double doors and disappear. She'd be lying if she wasn't worried now.

“Oh where are my manners,” the man smiled down at her while walking her down a corridor. “My name is Von Hohenhiem. What’s-”

“Winry.”

Her sudden response gave him pause, but Hohenhiem smiled anyway. “I know this is stressful and scary, but I promise you'll be just fine. There's nothing to fear now. Through here.”

He guided her through an archway, pushing aside fabric in the way to reveal what looked to be a library with an open floor in the center.

“Boys! We have company.”

No response. He smiles nervously down at Winry. Clearing his throat he tried again.

“Edward! Alphonse!”

He was complimented by a grumble and shuffling of books falling over.

“I'm coming! I'm coming! I was just getting to a good part!”

A moment later, a boy appeared from around a bookshelf, not looking happy to be disturbed. He wore robes like his father with red trim. His hair short in the back, but long in the front, most of it covering the sides of his face. He blinked, seeming disturbed by Winry, obviously not expecting someone else. Turning to look back he sighed.

“Come on Al.”

Another boy poked his head out, hiding behind his brother. Much more shy than the first one. He also wore a robe like his brother, but with blue trim.

As they stepped closer to her, Winry got a closer look at their golden features. She could make out more detail compared to the people under the bridge. These two boys sported the most brilliant golden eyes out of all the eyes she's seen on the way in here. She couldn't help but stare.

“Winry. These are my boys. The one with the sour expression is Edward. The one hiding is Alphonse. Now, I have some work to do for the King. Play nice boys. Don't make her cry.” Hohenhiem looks from Al to Ed. “Edward.”

The boy named Edward had obviously taken offense to this.

“Wha- I haven't done anything yet!” Crossing his arms he looks at Winry, but it looks more like a glare.

“Be nice, I'll let you know when your granny is ready for you, Winry dear.”

Winry nods, watching him leave as the fabric falls back in the doorway, she turns back to Ed and Al.

Collectively, they all stare at each other. Winry couldn't help but notice Al still hiding behind his brother.

“Umm….” Winry started, but Ed cut her off.

“Sooo, Winry huh? What do you wanna do then? All we have are books and some toys. Not much though. We're just slaves after all…” Ed huffs, lowering his arms and resting them on his hips.

“Slaves?” Winry looked worried.

“Yeah, slaves.” He tilted it head at her, his golden hair falling in his face a bit. “Don't you have those where you're from?”

“But you all look the same…”

Edward cocked an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with it? Only the alchemists live well here.” He shrugged but put on a proud smile and pointed at himself with his thumb, puffing his chest out. “Soon we'll be skilled alchemists and surpass those losers!”

Al spoke up for the first time from behind Ed, pushing down on his left shoulder. “Brother-” He hissed at him. “Don't say that out loud, they might hear you….”

“Whatever, Al, it won't matter when we're out of here!” Ed absolutely beamed at his brother.

“Al…chemists?” Winry blinked, completely dumbfounded. “What in the world is that?”

Ed and Al turned their heads and looked at her in unison. Almost in sync. “You don't know what Alchemy is?” They even spoke in unison too.

Winry shook her head, her hair swishing in her face.

Ed looked at Al and Al looked at Ed. They smiled and looked back to Winry. They bursted with energy at her and grabbed both her hands, she almost ran out of the room.

“Come on!”

“We’ll show you!”

Yanking her into the room’s center, there was a carpet lain out for play. They let go of her and ran in random directions, searching through books and scrolls. Winry opted to stand on the very edge of the carpet, deciding to keep her distance. Both boys looked like they wanted to show her a new strange rock they found in the forest or something of the like.

Edward emerged first carrying a scroll and chalk sticks. Alphonse had bottles and jars of unknown substances. Winry was more curious now. If they were this interested in something like this, whatever it was, it must be cool.

Ed rolled up the carpet aggressively and chucked it aside. Holding open a scroll, he read off of it and began drawing lines on the stone floor. Winry was confused now. Was this Alchemy? Drawing on the floors in chalk?

As Ed finished, it was clear to Winry that it was a giant circle with triangles and writing she couldn't understand.

“What-?”

Edward tisked. “Not done yet.”

Winry shut her mouth.

Al gave him a few jars of….stuff and they both opened them and poured out the contents in the center.

“Now the material.”

“Ready?”

They got down to their knees and smiled at each other at opposite sides of the circle.

“Ready.”

A few moments went by, nothing. Winey was about to say something again when the chalk started to glow. She couldnt believe her eyes, her mouth fell open. What felt like wind was circling around the outer circle. Lights and sparks erupted from the center and triangles. The light was everywhere. The boys didn't seem bothered by this at all, they were smiling down at the pile of material they offered to the center and waited.

As the light show continued, the pile started moving. Winry's eyes grew wider. It started taking the shape of a….doll head.

That's when it got terrifying.

The doll head wiggled it's way out of the pile along with a body attached. As it formed the facial features, it looks like something out of a nightmare.

Winry started to whine. But the boys didn't stop until they heard her wail.

They whipped their heads around with worry plastered on their faces. Winry was slouched on the ground crying and rubbing her eyes. Trying to get rid of the sight that bore into her eyes. She heard their footsteps and felt their hands on her arms. Trying to get her to stop crying.

“Winry! Winry! It's okay!” Alphonse was pleading with her, holding her forearm and touching her shoulder. Edward didn't know what to do. He's only ever consoled a crying Al, but that's different than a girl crying. He just hovered and looked ashamed and lost.

When the boys got her to a hiccup, she finally took her head out of her hands and looked at them in front of her. The worry was very real on their faces. They bowed their heads and slumped.

“We're sorry…”

“We didn't know it would scare you…”

Winry hiccupped, but looked over Ed's shoulder to see a fully formed, not scary, doll sitting at the center of the circle. She looked back to sets of golden eyes looking at her. One of them looked like they were about to cry too. She smiled a little. They were only trying to show her something and make her happy.

She was about to ask if she could have the doll when Hohenhiem whipped the fabric at the doorway open.

“I heard crying! Edward, what did you do??”

The remorse on Ed's face was gone in a flash. He jumped up and huffed, stomping his feet.

“I didn't do nothing!”

Hohenhiem scanned the tosseled rug and the obvious circle drawn on the floor. He slouched and sighed, pinching his nose.

“Did you scare her with Alchemy?”

Ed crossed his arms and turned away, puffing out his cheek. “No….”

Al stood up and gripped his robes. “Yes…” Ed whipped around and opened his arms at Al in a ‘are you serious?’ manner. Sour for being ratted on.

Hohenhiem sighed again. “I'm sorry Winry. I didn't think these two were going to immediately give you nightmares as soon as I left them alone with you. I should've known…”

Ed huffed again. “What's that supposed to mean??”

Winry’s eyes whipped from one to another. Amazed by the life in the room. Silently getting up while the other two argued, she tentatively picked up the doll and inspected it. Al quietly tapped her shoulder and smiled when she looked over.

“You can have that if you want it. It won't fall apart. It's really a real doll.” He smiled soft and sweet. “We made it just for you.”

She didn't know what would come of her life here in Xerxes now that she was stuck here for the foreseeable future, but with these two around, she knows it'll be interesting at least.

“Thanks, Al.”

[sparrowrye]

Future Story Ideas

I am keeping a collection of possible AU ideas either from my own crazy mind or your devilish ones. You can comment or direct message any ideas (they can be as vague or as detailed as you want) and let me know if you want to be @ on this post for your idea.

This will help me gauge interest on what most of you would like to have for a fic. I have so many ideas but I need help picking which one to do first.

**Please note, I am only writing Alastor in his Demon form. Even the modern ideas will have him with that appearance because I’m a sucker for that look 🥵

AU IDEAS

Bookshop and radio host

Realistic Hazbin Hotel (horror)

The Barrowers (tiny society living under our floorboards)

Yandere Alastor

Street racer

Ringmaster circus

Futuristic society

Fantasy cottage

Witch and wizard

Wizard x familiar

Cowboy / ranch life

Countryside farmhouse

Modern arranged marriage

Fantasy Maid and Master

Fantasy medieval arranged marriage

Modern on the run criminal

Fantasy desert caravan

Mage academy

Demon prince/lord x sacrifice

Pirate captain

Villain x (ex) Hero

[majorpepperidge]

[firing up my copium machine]

Hiiii Penliker Nation. I've been rotating an AU in my mind where Pen was genuinely brainwashed/test-tube baby fed propaganda by Duvos and had it broken by being treated with genuine kindness and love by my Builder; Ray. Instead of uh. What we got.

But there's no denying he still did what he did, regrets or no. So he exiles himself from Sandrock, and Ray goes with him. Much as she loves Sandrock herself; she does love Pen, and wants to find a place same from Duvos where they can be together peacefully. So they're a lil two person wandering caravan in the desert, stopping where they can and letting Ray get some Builder work for funds, hiding or taking out Duvos patrols along the way, fighting monsters, etc etc.

[sparkmender]

For the hive au, is a mostly peaceful compared to the OG lore? Is there crime and civil unrest? Whether between the courts or factions or etc

In the immediate area of Hive Iacon (and Megatron’s remaining Swarm loyalists who have come to stay), conflict is quite low now that Megatron and Optimus have settled things between them and Megatron has been appointed Lord Protector of the Hive. They have joined together out of a need for shared resources and, on Optimus’ part, an urging from the Matrix and his inner court to secure his position as the new Prime (potential-to-be Magnus) of the Hive. As Sentinel had any other Prime potentiates killed before they could emerge from their second cocoons, and then fell to sickness, Optimus was in a very precarious situation that could have led to Iacon facing colony collapse or poaching from other Hives— prior to becoming more isolationist under Nova Prime and Sentinel Prime, Iacon had long been held in high regard for their gifted magic adepts and skillful healers (as well as a carefully maintained library due to the work of elder Alpha Trion) and many would be glad to take them and their knowledge in, should their community bonds crumble.

Tensions had been very high between Iacon and the Swarm in the past under Sentinel Prime’s leadership, with Sentinel as the aggressor rather than Megatron— for the most part Megatron had been very, very busy trying to quell infighting and claw back territory after his successful coup and duel to the death against Megazarak, the former leader of the Swarm and his and Galvatron’s sire. (Galvatron had previously been excommunicated and thrown out into the wastes of the Kaoni desert for her own attempt on Megazarak in Megatron’s grubhood, as she was considered mad due to her Seer abilities— the Swarm has a long history of distrust and disbelief in such things— and it would have been ‘dishonorable’ for Megazarak to kill her because of her insanity.) At current time the Swarm exists in name only; there are several different troupes and factions within that have splintered away for various reasons since that clash between Megatron and Megazarak, and the Swarm’s once ironclad grip on the Tarnish mountain range and surrounding territory (stretching from the Kaoni desert to roughly west of Tesarus) has been thoroughly broken, leading to infighting, banditry, and other conflicts.

Notable among these splintered groups are the Wyld Hunt as led by Tarn, the bastard offspring of Megatron, and Overlord’s strange wandering Circus. There’s also a bunch of idiots calling themselves the Scavengers? We don’t know what their deal is, but they’re human friendly and pretty bad at being mercenaries.

The Order of the Path are wandering pathguides and wayfinders of all sorts, who travel among various Hives and settlements to share news and, occasionally, guard caravans of travelers. Drift is one such pathguide, and travels between Iacon and Caminus regularly. Beyond the threat of ambush and bandits for large groups of travelers, there are large Voiceless (nonsentient) predators to contend with, ranging from those who are opportunistic to those who specifically predate on Fae and their kin.

There’s also the Court of Vos, which is constantly in conflict with itself, everyone around it, anyone who’s ever been tangentially involved, and probably you as well just because. Vos itself sounds constantly as if it is in argument with itself, given the concentration of the wasp population within. You will hear the buzzing before you even realize you’re within fighting distance.

The Coastal fae and their kith have very loose arrangements with each other and are typically solitary or form small pods with poorly defined territory claims. When conflict arises (which rarely occurs, as the beach dwellers and cave-lurks keep to themselves), issues are brought to Shockwave to mediate, as all are in agreement that Shockwave is the most impartial and sensible. This has nothing to do with the fact that he is also the largest. We swear.

As for the Kaon Market, it’s only a crime if you get caught. Don’t get caught.

[officialleehadan]

White Light

Hello darlings! Today's story was brought to you by L! Darling, thank you so much for all your support!

Prompt: THIS SONG 

+++

Sunborn AU

+++

The first fight they encountered was with what Zan called a ghoul.

Riah had seen them in Alisa’s books. No one knew exactly where they were from, but they appeared one day, long ago, the only thing everyone agreed on was that they were one of the most fearsome monsters on the continent. Powerful, magic-resistant, and voracious, when a ghoul came into town or hit a trade caravan, there were few survivors.

Riah looked at it, charging towards them, and let her rage off the chain for the first time.

Magic thundered around her, hot and white as the Sunlight Sword, worn over her shoulders across her back, answered to her fury. Sunlight could be soft and gentle. It could be the first kiss of spring.

It could also be the punishing enemy that killed in the desert, and left little that dared appear while the sun was high.

She was ready to be a nightmare even Kratch would learn to fear, for the very short time she left him alive.

“Look out!” Zandithas called to her, his sword and knife in hand. He was good, very good, and had begun teaching her to use the Sword in addition to her magic, but he wasn’t good enough to face a ghoul. “We have to get out of here!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Riah said, cold despite the sunlight that radiated off her in white waves so hot that the undergrowth around her began to smolder, and then caught flame. The ghoul howled and came at her, but Riah held her ground with the might of her magic, barely restrained, in her hands. “I came to kill monsters. That’s what I’m gonna do.”

Zan yelled something else, but she was too focused on her magic.

After almost six months, learning from Alisa and then studying her spellbook, it was time to stretch her muscles for real. If she couldn’t take a single ghoul, she sure couldn’t take Kratch, and she meant to watch him burn from the inside out.

Went he ghoul crashed into her magic, a shockwave exploded outward. Zan flew into a tree hard enough to stun him, and the ghoul’s roar turned into a sudden, frightened whine of confusion.

“That’s right, I’m stronger than you,” Riah said, and closed her fists around the white power on her skin. “I’ve read about your kind, and I know what sunlight really is. I know your weakness.”

The white light in her hands took on an eerie blue tinge as she compressed it in her hands, and into tight chains around the ghoul, which howled again, this time in fear and pain. It struggled against her, so strong it could have escaped if she had it wrapped in anything other than pure sunlight, but ghouls didn’t like the bright light of day,

When it was captured, helpless under her power, Riah pulled the Sunlight Sword off her back and approached the ghoul with the long blade in her hand. A shadow detached from the undergrowth and joined her. Zan, limping, but on his feet with his blades ready.

“What are you going to do with it?” he asked her warily. His eyes were wide as he stared at the ghoul. He was so handsome Riah almost let the spell slip at the sight of him, lit by toxic sunlight, but she gave herself a mental kick before the spell could waver. She might like Zan, or at least she was attracted to him, but she was on a mission. Maybe after, if he didn’t try to betray her, she would reconsider. “Will you kill it?’

“Can it do anything but be a monster?” Riah asked and eyed the ghoul speculatively. “Alisa is no good at the kind of magic that controls minds.”

“You could try blood-binding it, but it may not have enough mind for that.” It was no surprise that he suggested that. Kratch had him blood-bound. He knew how effective it was. “It does take enough understanding to know what a command is.”

“Maybe something new from my world,” Riah said, and allowed herself a hard, cruel smile as she thought of the video games and books she had read. Of the mind control they so often used. It was the domain of villains, but then, she was on a mission to murder a man. It hardly seemed time to quibble over a little thing like mind control. “How smart are they?”

“About as clever as a clever goat.”

“I don’t know much about goats,” Riah admitted, but se approached the ghoul and pulled out the knife on her hip. The one her father bought her, what felt like a lifetime ago. “But I’m getting the hang of magic.”

Alisa’s spellbook had plenty of runes that meant all sorts of things. When combined, they were a language. With the right word-choice, that language could change the world.

With the steadiness of the Sword’s white light in her hands, she cut the runes for control and obedience and permanence into the ghoul’s forehead. It struggled, but she leaned on the impossible strength of the Sword and held it fast. Blackish blood trailed down its face, but the runes lit with hot blue light, and sealed into fresh scars.

When she freed it from the chains of white radiation that bound it, the ghoul stood before her, shaken and cowering.

“There,” she said with a hard, satisfied smile at her first attempt at mind control. Then again, this was probably more like a compulsion. She wasn’t really sure the right words for it. “You’re not going to refuse me now, are you?”

The ghoul whined and cowered further, but when she snapped her fingers at it, it followed her at her heels.

“That ought to make an impression,” she told Zan, who was staring at her, almost as afraid as the ghoul, but with new respect, and a hint of what she tentatively thought might be the same attraction she felt for him. “Come on. We have a long way to go. Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll find a few more ghouls on the way.”

+++

Sunborn AU:

Eclipsed Sun

Shadowed Meeting

White Light (NEW!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[gretchensinister]

Ask and ye shall receive 👀👀👀 my words: receive (lol), serendipity, magic

Receive

Note: This is in the Garnetting AU. But SkekGra and UrGoh don't know that in this little fic about their experience of the Great Conjunction.

~*~

When the light comes, they whispered to each other, we will accept whatever it brings us as a gift. We will trust, and our hands will be open. We will receive whatever fills them with joy. And they looked into each other’s eyes and thought: even if that gift be death.

They did not want the gift to be death, not exactly, though they were both very, very old, and the thought of death as a gift did not shock either of them, anymore.

They had become oh-so-fragile in the past few trine. Unum by unum, they watched each other lose substance, felt each other grow shaky, saw absences and blanks spread that had always been filled before. But one remained patient, and one refused to be defeated, and they did what they could.

Their days grew simple, as tasks that had once been simple stretched to fill the hours.

They did their best to feed each other, from a garden sung lush by magic and a coop of karatick with a faded sign affixed over the little door that said “Barracks.” They were no longer strong enough to go meet the caravans, and they had not seen any signs of them for many trine now, at least the lifetime of a gelfling.

They held and massaged each other’s ever-more-delicate flesh, finding that hands shook less when pressed against each other, that they still had some power to ease the aches and pains that had multiplied so grandly in such a short time. They held each other to share what little warmth they had between them—though they could not help but be troubled that they did so even under the full light of the desert days, now.

(And sometimes, even now, this care could startle their bodies into the remembrance not just of warmth but of heat, and it was with delight they took these moments, and one or another, as gifts into each other’s hands. Hands, above all, as other flesh more and more rarely aligned with desires of the mind and heart.)

They created, still, songs and poems and a record of what it was like, with the two of them so old and the world seeming old, too, their certainties and uncertainties, fears and hopes and wonders. Most of these, naturally, touching on that final journey, of which they had no orthodoxy to turn to, which would bear no wandering on the way, which could not be conquered. But there were jokes, too, mixed in with the rest. And when words got lost, and sentences broke, they wove over each other’s gaps, for the taking up of such snapped threads was as right as it was troubling that the threads had snapped in the first place. They would always have at least one, whole mind between them, of that they were sure.

Every day, the suns drew closer.

I’m not ready.

I feel the Song humming in my bones. At least I think I do.

Hold me.

I wish we could have one more night when we were young.

One more feast?

And everything after.

Hold me.

Whoever comes after us, I hope they understand.

How good it was.

That we did our best.

Hold me.

I hope.

I fear.

I love you.

I love you.

Hold me.

Hold me.

When the day of the Great Conjunction dawned, they knew it, as undeniable as the suns’ very rising.

They put what they’d written over the trine into a chest that would keep out the sand, along with a few other things—marionettes of each of them, a small, graceful wooden carving of one, a miniature painted with the eyes of love of the other, still luminous with the finest pigments that had ever been carried on a Dousan caravan route. The chest would rest in a place where the suns would not touch it directly, but where it would not be hidden to anyone who found this place at all.

Most of what they had created over the years would have to be left to the desert, though. Their hands skimmed over much of it as they moved through the Circle of the Suns on that last day, fingertips saying farewell to the beautiful and practical, to the lovely evidence of their peaceful hours and days and unum and trine.

They put the hearth crystal together, and placed it with a note pressed in clay that explained in as many languages as they knew what it did when the halves were separated.

They fed the karatick, and shooed them away and out of the Circle of the Suns.

And then. Then it was almost time.

I think we should go out the way we came in.

And I would like as little separation between us as possible, when it is time.

The suns climbed higher, drawing ever closer. They took off their clothes, not bothering to fold them.

A moment, a pause.

A long time since the night of the storm.

But it still comes to mind so easily.

They still suffered chill, in the heat of this last day, and so one brought their largest blanket out to the ledge where they’d spent entire gelfling lifetimes in each other’s company. The other joined with the last of their bread, spread with the last of their parga-fruit jam, the greatest sweetness they could manage without the caravans. Draped under one blanket, they fed each other, and after they had eaten they leaned against each other, holding each other’s hands.

The three suns touched over the desert.

I’m thinking of the flowers.

So am I.

And the three suns shone as one, suffusing Thra with the all-transforming light that had not been seen for a thousand trine.

When it shone on them, the light of the Great Conjunction warmed their ancient flesh all through, just like sunlight should. Every pain ebbed away. The hum that had been in their bones grew louder, stronger, clearer, resolving into a chord that seemed to go beyond hearing into every sense, the final, glorious note of a symphony they had—they had—been a part of. And the light shone brighter, brighter, brighter, until it felt like it was shining through them. They looked at each other to see if it was so, and when they saw each other they saw what no other being in the universe had ever seen before.

And what they saw was good.

What they saw was wonderful.

One tiny part of that final chord: Oh. Oh. Two small and perfect sounds of awe.

The light shone brighter yet, until nothing at all could be seen.

For a moment, there was silence. Deep, true, complete silence. Just a moment. But a moment long enough to create a world.

And then the Song started again, everywhere in and on and above Thra, life roaring back, the Song clear and strong as it had not been in a thousand trine, rushing and cascading through the healed Crystal like snowmelt in spring after the hardest winter a world had ever seen.

But what notes were first played at that place in the desert, when the new symphony began and the suns parted from each other in their dance once more?

It was a small sound that broke the profound silence: a nail falling onto stone.

And for a time there was only the wind through the stones. Anyone watching—though who could possibly have been there to watch?—could be forgiven for thinking that perhaps that the clink of that dreadful piece of metal on that well-loved stone would be the final sound other than wind to ever be heard at the place once named the Circle of the Suns. Would it not have been enough?

But Thra was, is, and ever shall be, abundant. Profligate. And, too, possessive of what has come to belong to it.

And soon enough, a laugh rang out. A single laugh, that was also a harmony, fitting in so perfectly with all the chords of the world at that moment that no one could be wise and say that it was not meant to be there. A laugh loud enough that it seemed the sound should reach to a far, far distant world and shatter something there. A laugh that came from the throat of something—someone—new. Good. Wonderful.

[hulahoopsoupgroup]

atla/genshin/hsr au headcanons: gaang edition (part 2)

1. after tromping through liyue and letting aang get the hang of geo bending, they head to sumeru to master dendro

2. they try to go to the akademiya to learn from scholars and the first person they come across is alhaitham

3. hes so pretentious and toph yells at him and calls him a bitch boy

4. kaveh comes to visit alhaitham during this whole convo and sokka narrows his eyes at their interactions and does the limp wrist at kaveh

5. they come across nahida and she seems promising, but them zuko and wanderer come back from one of their walks and they run away to the avidiya forest and find tighnari and collei

6. tighnari teaches aang dendro and cyno teaches sokka even worse jokes. sokka and cyno are menaces at the dinner table

7. they spend a while in the forest and then decide to go to the desert because they heard of this like, secret knowledge hidden in the mausoleum

8. in caravan ribat, they meet dehya, and toph is taken aback because shes so much like beidou, and beidou was one of her closest friends back in liyue

9. dehya and some other mercs take them through the desert and dehya teaches toph sandbending (pretend dehya can wield both pyro and a little bit of geo/sand)

10. dehya and toph bond while they stand guard outside the mausoleum while aang, sokka, and katara go through it

11. they somehow get to the top of the mausoleum and fight that big ass triangle thing and aang manages to use sandbending with airbending/anemo bending to defeat it

12. they eventually part ways with dehya and head up to the northernmost part of the desert where that tree is that blocked the abyssal power from the sky and they sit under it and have a peaceful night for once before going to fontaine

[noxdont]

"the art of falling"

Cynolumi Oneshot

🌠cynolumi street performer au

🌠 3.6k words, romance

🌠 strangers to friends to lovers

🌠 love confessions

---

If one listens closely to the cautious whispers and words exchanged by merchants and mercenaries, they'd hear of the latest news about how the General Mahamatra seems to be visiting Caravan Ribat more frequently than usual. Theories and assumptions were thrown into the wind as the matra himself holds a powerful reputation. Who knows what business he was handling but if there's one thing that everyone could mutually agree on, Cyno was the kind of person that would leave ashes in his wake. Leaving no stone unturned and no crime unpunished on his trail.

Smugglers held their breaths as Cyno would walk into the town without much care despite how many eyes were glued on his back. He never visits in the mornings nor early afternoons. Only when the skies are painted in gold and the stars would slowly rise, then he'd make his appearance. Although the days he'd visit were not consistent, it still happened too often for the merchants' comfort.

"He must be handling an important business for one of the sages if he would be coming here this much?

"I heard that there was a big criminal hiding in Caravan Ribat and the General Mahamatra is taking his sweet time on hunting them down?"

"Well from what I heard, he's moving under the orders of Lesser Lord Kusanali."

Unbeknownst to them, Cyno merely has one purpose for his frequent visits. When a small crowd gathers by the stalls and a hypnotizing melody starts to play, Cyno would simply move to a more discreet location. Focusing on the subject of his frequent visits.

A golden haired woman danced as though she floated on air. Ever graceful and elegant as her body swayed in harmony to the beat of the music. The occasional jingles of her golden accessories were just as enchanting as the pink and scarlet silk which covers most parts of her body.

Amber eyes met scarlet ones. The young woman flashed him a knowing smile. Cyno held his breath just as she spun into a graceful turn, the flames' light trailing against porcelain skin.

A street performer, whose name reminded him of the evening stars, captured his attention on one peaceful night. While the desert slept and the fire burned awake, he couldn't tear his gaze away from the lone figure dancing fluidly to a familiar song. He never knew what it was called although he's heard it countless of times while passing the Grand Bazaar or walking through the lively streets of Port Ormos. He did not know much about the arts but he had thought of the song to be quite captivating, although he never expected himself to suddenly stop and watch someone dance along its rhythm, capturing its essence through polished movements and grace.

Since then, the image of her has stayed. A nameless street performer haunting even the corners of his mind until he was close to breaking while a certain forest watcher bore witness to his slow descent to internal madness.

"Why exactly are you hesitating? If it bothers you that much, you can simply just go back and ask for her name."

That had been the cause of the onslaught of visits. Cyno believed that as soon as he learned of her name then he would cease thinking of such trivial matters and things would go back to the way they were. Yet what he failed to foresee was his own actions– rather, lack thereof. Though the General Mahamatra had his fair share of troubled and frustrating experiences, it was never because he didn't know how to approach a woman.

"I hope I'm not being presumptuous but I've noticed you in the audience for quite some time now, am I perhaps in trouble? Or is there something you need from me, General Mahamatra?"

Cyno had to remind himself how the process of breathing worked when he finally snapped out of his momentary daze. Drenched in shades of blues and silver, the young performer walked up to him right after her routine before cautiously asking him that question.

"No, you're not in trouble nor do I have any business matters which may involve you." Her shoulders visibly relaxed and a pinch of guilt started creeping inside him.

Did she perhaps feel uncomfortable with him watching?

"I occasionally watched your performance, I do not know a lot of people who take on such art forms so I was a bit curious."

Something sparked in her eyes and before he could deduce what it was, she was already holding up her hand with a smile so sweet he could almost taste it.

"Lumine, although my stage name is Viatrix. Feel free to call me whichever you prefer."

Lumine. It suited her.

"Cyno." He gently shook her hand and mentally celebrated over the fact that his overdue curiosity has been finally sated.

"You mentioned you've watched a few of my performances, would it be alright to ask for your thoughts?"

"Unfortunately I'm not very familiar when it comes to the arts, would you still want to hear my thoughts despite my lacking knowledge?"

"Art has always been subjective and as a member of my wonderful audience, I would like to hear your thoughts."

"And is that all?" Somehow it didn't feel that way to Cyno.

"Hmm, maybe because I'm also curious what the General Mahamatra has to say about my dancing as well?"

He had not known the comment was playful or, in Kaveh's words, flirty until he hesitantly recounted the event to the architect who happened to be fond of different art forms. Curiosity practically oozed out from the blonde man and he even offered to provide any necessary aid if Cyno required them. The matra hadn't understood what he meant at that time.

Days passed and their short yet pleasant discussions became longer– venturing on to their personal interests, hobbies and eventually their lives. When Cyno wanted to know her name, he had no intentions of them being closer other than acquaintances. Though fate seemed to have other plans and in all honesty, he was not exactly against it either. Lumine was wonderful company. It's as if time became nonexistent when he was with her.

"There's no need to hold back yourself from laughing, I myself find the joke quite hilarious as well." Cyno gave her a reassuring smile just as he finished explaining the premise of the joke he had told her.

By the time he was done, Lumine's shoulders were shaking and her laughter littered the open air. Though he wasn't exactly sure if it was the joke that truly pushed her into a fit of laughter, knowing that he was able to make her smile during their time together still gave him a pleasant feeling.

~~~

Oddly enough he felt a bit nervous introducing her to Tighnari and Collei but as soon as he saw them get along so well, Cyno has never felt more relieved and ecstatic.

"When I said go ask for her name, I didn't mean that you should take her back with you." Despite Tighnari's words, Cyno could hear the smile in his voice as they prepared lunch. He liked her, Cyno could tell.

They both shared similar ideals and they were as open and unapologetic as the other. Maybe that's one of the reasons why it didn't take long for the matra to call her a worthy friend. Although the trait that stood out to him the most from their time together was the fact that Lumine was an attentive listener and freely expressed her own thoughts in a manner which everyone could understand.

"Dancing does not need to be precise and perfect all the time, it can be as simple as having fun. Although it can feel quite nerve wracking at the beginning but believe me when I say that it's normal. Here, why don't I teach you some simple steps?"

Collei looked ready to decline Lumine's offer but after a few encouraging seconds, she finally accepted. Cyno watched as Lumine patiently taught the young girl some simple steps which earned some curious looks from other forest rangers in the vicinity. One person came forward to join followed by another and another. Soon enough it seemed Lumine had gathered an interested audience as her students.

"She makes a wonderful teacher." Praises from Tighnari weren't rare but it feels more reassuring when it comes from him.

"She does." Cyno couldn't tear his gaze away. Even if she wasn't dancing, Lumine somehow manages to shine in her own way.

It didn't take too long for everyone to get up on their feet as they all swayed and danced to a familiar song in Sumeru. If Cyno wasn't mistaken, he's already seen a few people dance to this song especially on festive occasions. And surprisingly enough, even a few scholars secretly knew a few of its steps.

He watched the forest rangers dance with glee as the air filled with hearty laughter. From the corner of his eye, he noticed some rangers trying to persuade their fluffy eared watcher to join the fray. He could vividly feel Tighnari's pleading glances for help but chose to ignore it either way with a quiet chuckle. His silent amusement came to a halt when a familiar figure propped herself beside him, a knowing smile painted on her lips.

"I don't dance." Were the first words that came out of his mouth.

"We can change that." He begged to differ.

The General Mahamatra has never danced in his entire life.

"Just one dance, please?" But dear archons it was difficult to say no to her.

Lumine didn't have to ask a second time although Cyno did warn her how he knew nothing about dancing.

"Let's start with a few gentle sways then," the golden girl started, amber eyes shining in excitement as she started gently swaying them both to each sides.

Cyno tried to follow her lead and he could only assume he looked ridiculous on doing so. But soon enough, he found himself relaxing. Matching her steps while the music flowed around them until it eventually felt natural. Cyno may not know a single thing about the art of dancing but seeing Lumine's face light up in pure glee as he twirled her around and back into his arms was definitely worth all his stiffened sways and awkward stumbles.

She doesn't look down on others nor does she discriminate against those who are unfamiliar with her art form. Lumine was patient and careful when it came to explaining her love for her passion. She knew how to hold her ground and held it well. This has earned her commendable respect and admiration from multiple individuals, performers and even scholars she's come across in life. Cyno was simply one of the very few.

~~~

"You've been visiting more often, General Mahamatra, am I perhaps in trouble?" Cyno huffed at the familiar question, raising a brow towards the young dancer while she sat comfortably beside him on their usual seat by Gilded Dreams– the lone hotel in Caravan Ribat.

At this point, the question had become her usual greeting and a running inside joke to them both. The routine they've built over time was quite simple; he visits, she dances, they talk of various topics like how their day went or how their friends are doing until they need to retire for the night.

"You've done a wonderful performance today as well, a well deserved rest should be the one to greet you as soon as you're done," said Cyno while pushing the plate of Samosa towards the tired dancer by his side.

"But I love hearing your praises right after," She leans on to his shoulder before thanking him for the meal.

"If praises are what you seek then I'll simply have to compile a list and have them ready."

"I'd rather hear them directly from you." He pauses, Lumine's words echoing quietly in his mind.

Cyno never noticed when it started but conversing with her became frighteningly easy. It felt natural, listening to her voice, seeing her expressions and often getting caught off guard by her playful retorts. Lumine became a piece whom he instinctively seeks out when time permits or even when it does not. Mayhaps because she was another person he believed he could genuinely confide in without worrying about being judged. Cyno has never thought of her as anything more.

Not until he found himself wondering if her lips would be as soft as they looked when he caught himself staring at them while she rested on his shoulder. Or how he wanted to rest his arms around her when she leans in a bit closer before trailing his lips on her hair as he whispers the praises she seek.

Guilt tore through him mercilessly at such a thought and he wanted nothing more than to bury such thoughts as soon as possible. Like stone thrown into the undisturbed waters, the rippling effect caused his visits to lessen and excuses came pouring before he'd even begun to wonder how much he missed watching her dance under the starlit sky. Lumine didn't complain nor did she pry. Every time he tells her he can't go watch her for a while, he'll only see the quiet dim in her eyes before she tells him to always stay safe.

The growing distance drove him into what he could only describe as insanity. It did nothing to satiate the growing hunger to hold her closer and it stung every time she'd ask him if he'd come see her dance even just for a moment– even if he couldn't stay for the entirety of it.

Weeks passed and eventually one of them was bound to snap, Cyno genuinely thought he'd be the first to do so until Lumine finally came to approach him directly while he was dealing with a minor problem in the scorching desert of Sumeru.

"Lumine? What are you doing here? You shouldn't be traveling alone through the desert, the amount of risks and–"

"First of all, we both know full well that I am capable enough to handle a fight. Second, is that really the first thing you have to say after blatantly avoiding me for days on end?"

If looks could kill, Cyno would've already been long buried under the swirling sands. He tried finding the right words to say only to swallow them back down. Lumine had every right to be angry at him. He even went as far to ask Tighnari to lie for his sake and it earned him a very disapproving lecture from the forest watcher.

"If I did or have said anything that may have offended you then the least that you could do is tell me directly. I'm your friend aren't I?"

Her angered tone softened and her gaze eventually fell.

"Or have I made a fool of myself by thinking I was someone worthy enough to be called as one in your life?"

He didn't waste a second more as he heard those words and stepped closer, a hesitant hand reaching out to take her hand only for it to fall defeatedly on his side.

"You didn't do anything wrong. I," Cyno stumbled in his words, the same way he did when he first met her. The same way he did when she pulled him up to dance. It had been so easy to find the words when he spoke to her but now they can't even reach past his throat.

"A sudden thought came to me one day and it– I didn't know what to do. I was afraid that if I acted on it then it would break something that I have been cherishing. Because if I acted recklessly then everything would be irreparable."

"Break what? Me? If you're worried about my safety just because you're the General Mahamatra then I can reassure you that it's fine. See? I'm not hurt! In fact no one has dared to harm since you came into my life. I walked through the desert without anyone to look after me and I'm fine. Cyno, no matter how dangerous you believe it would be for me to stay by your side I'm not afraid to be with you."

"But I am."

The words came before he had the chance to think twice. Fear held his heart in a vice grip and he would rather she be angry at him for a while than for their relationship to be broken just because of his selfish desires.

How could he tell her? How could he look her in the eye and tell her how much he wants to gently trace his lips on her hands to her shoulders. To hold her close– close enough for her to finally hear the yearning in his chest. To kiss her, without guilt or shame. To just be with her without having any reason to.

How could he possibly tell her?

And yet as terrifying as it was, another part of him still wishes for her to know. Despite his fear, Cyno still wanted to take that risk and let all be damned.

"I'm not afraid of the people who'd come to know that you are dear to me. Lumine it isn't other people I'm scared of. It's myself. You have given me so much that I'm afraid that I'll start asking more from you."

"Then ask. I'm not someone who's blind enough to give anyone just about everything that's beyond my power but if it's something I am willing to offer, especially to you, then just ask. Because you are as dear to me as I am to you."

He hadn't noticed her stepping closer, her fingers smoothly slipping in between his while the other cupped his cheek. He allowed himself to succumb into her touch, taking in her warmth as she softly caressed his face. And it has never felt so divine to be held by someone like this. He caught the melting dusk in her eyes before they fell onto her lips. Since the day his thoughts wandered beyond being platonic, there have been moments where his mind remained on guessing on how her lips would feel or taste. Such wretched thoughts consumed him even on days when he kept himself away from the mere sight of her. And eventually he knew they were going to eat him alive.

"Cyno, I care for you more than you think. But I can only show you if you'd let me. So please let me."

He swallowed hard yet the lump in his throat seemed to remain despite his efforts to push it down. Cyno gathered every ounce of courage he could find inside as the stars rose above them before he was able to properly face her.

"I'm sorry. For suddenly making you feel as if you've wronged me because of my own cowardice and selfishness."

Despite his desire to keep all of those feelings buried, maybe all he needed was a reason for the dam to finally break.

"When I first saw you dancing in Caravan Ribat, I've always wondered how much a person could shine so brightly. As I got to know you, I also saw how mesmerizing you are as a person even after the music stops. I respected and admired you quietly, thinking that that was enough. But days with you have made me greedy."

A look of pure realization finally struck her and Cyno wanted to run. But he knew better than to do so and held his ground, hoping that the sand would be enough to keep him from doing anything more foolish.

"You've shown me a piece of your world and now I can't seem to escape it. No matter where I go and no matter how many days would pass, the urge to run to you never dims. I want you. I want you in my life not simply as someone I can admire but as someone I can love entirely."

Cyno could practically hear his own heartbeat drumming inside his chest while they both stood surrounded by the desert's deafening silence. Lumine has not once made the move to let go of his hand just as he didn't let go of hers. At the very least that gave him a sense of reassurance.

"I won't ask for an immediate answer, I know that it would take some time for you to weigh–"

Lumine stopped him before he could even finish with the deep press of her lips against his. It didn't feel impulsive or reckless and his chest swelled at the thought. Her hands had long found themselves caressing his cheek and neck just as he realized his own response. Kissing her back as deeply before snaking his arm on her waist and tilting her chin higher. Cyno felt like he was melting; into her touch, her lips and the entirety of her.

"You have no idea what you do to me." Lumine whispered as she drew back slightly, lips still touching while amber eyes meet scarlet ones in a tender gaze.

"I could say the same for you."

It's as if all those running doubts and fear in his mind finally came to a halt. This time, Cyno didn't feel the need to stop himself as he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers. In the back of his mind, he could hear the song that played on the night he saw her shine with the stars. Cyno wasn't familiar with the arts, but he could understand the emotions it could call within a person. Since then he has sought that shining light and in turn he fell for a star that burned brightly amongst the desert sky.

[lightning-of-farosh]

Mischief Makers #2

AU; The hero of Legend and the hero of Hyrule are Smol

(This was my second try starting the fic)

The Hero who would one day be known as the Hero of Legend opened his eyes before the sting of acidic lantern smoke had fully faded from his tongue and turned his face towards the cloud-filled sky. His blonde hair was streaked with pink, turning into something that was vanilla and strawberry before it vanished beneath the blue cap that was almost as big as he was. A sword that was too big laid heavily between his should blades, pressing against the curve of his spine and forcing him to stand straight under the eyes of people who weren’t there to stare.

Beside him, dried mud and faded blood staining his green tunic, was the child who would be passed through tales as the Hero of Hyrule.

Green fields stretched out before them, grass taller than them swaying in ocean-like waves beneath the slightest breeze. Trees peppered here and there, making differences in a landscape that looked like it could have been stretched like dough between the hands of the goddesses.

Legend got up to the tips of his toes and used Hyrule’s shoulder to give himself a little boost—

And saw nothing.

“Great,” he said, resting back on his heels. “I don’t suppose you recognize this place?”

The world they had come from was more rock than plant, with heavy ashes sitting in the air and terror dripping from the cracks like oil that was ready to be ignited at any time.

Hyrule looked up from picking at a scab on the back of his hand. He was a good head shorter than Legend and glanced around at the grass. It would take a good footstool to prop him high enough to see over the plant life, so he turned to his friend and raised one eyebrow.

“Right,” Legend’s shoulders dropped as he sighed. “So we’re lost.”

Purple fizzed and popped behind them.

They turned, watching the portal collapse until it was nothing but a couple of falling, dark-star sparks. Hyrule leaned past Legend, reaching out to touch before his wrist was snatched. Magic fell to the ground and vanished, leaving them alone in the middle of the fields with nothing but grass to the front, grass to their back, and an open, unbothered sky.

Something thick and dark and cold settled in Legend's stomach as he looked around at everything but besides the occasional tree it was all the same, cookie cutter rolling hills. His breath hitched and he reached back for his sword, ready to start cutting through everything for just a sign—

A small hand took his before he could wrap his fingers wound the pommel of the sword and Hyrule looked up at him, eyes bright as a smile flourished on his features. "Don't worry," he said, a playful cat-like slyness to his voice, "I won't let you get too lost."

"You have no idea where we are."

Turning his face to the sky, Hyrule grinned. "No," his voice was soft. "But it'll be fun to find out."

Legend rolled his eyes but he couldn't help the smile that bled across his features as he was tugged forward into the unknown.

Here we go again.

oOo

“You knew.”

Hyrule laughed. “I didn’t!” He said and tugged Legend towards the stone walls rising out of the horizon. The grass had given away to a river, to a bridge, to a road carved deep with the wheels of caravans. Rain had turned patches of it to mud.

(They might have jumped into a few here or there; drying speckles dotting up their bare knees and making their boots look like desert dipped in chocolate.)

Legend pouted and wrapped his arm around a shoulder, leaning most of his weight onto the smaller boy. They stumbled together towards the edge of the road but Hyrule only giggled. Sunlight glinted off the hilt of his sword, sending flashes of sparkling goddess light across dirt and skin and he pulled away—

A yelp ripped its way out of Legend’s throat as they tumbled, rolling into the damp dirt. Hyrule squirmed beneath him, laughing as he kicked his small legs. The green cap had partially fallen off his hair but the sunlight caught his shining eyes and turned them wolf-gold.

Legend poked a dirt-crusted cheek once, twice, a third time until hands were swatting at his fingers.

Worming his way backward, Hyrule made a bid for freedom only to be snatched back, fingers digging into his sides and playing across his ribs.

“Say it!” Legend cried, sitting on the squirming, squealing boy, ignoring the smaller fists that battered at his sternum. “Say it!”

“S-say what?!” Hyrule shoved his hand against Legend’s cheek, pushing the older hero’s head up before he had to pull back to protect his unguarded sides. His chest heaved from breathless giggles, legs kicking uselessly. “I didn’t—I didn’t—s-stop! Mercy! Mercy!”

Deep laughter rumbled above them and the boys froze, staring at each with wide eyes before turning, slowly, to look up at the man standing in the middle of the road.

He was dressed in heavy, linked silver armour with a skirt of chainmail that sent glimmers of scattered sunlight across the earth. Two jagged red tattoos were carved beneath his scarred over right eye, and an angular blue U was marked in the middle of his forehead.

Beside him, head lowered and blue eyes narrowed, was a wolf that had splatters of slate in its dark almost-green-but-mostly-grey looking pelt.

“You boys alright?” The man said, adjusting the burlap sack hanging over his shoulder.

There was a massive sword strapped to his back.

Legend pulled his hands away from Hyrule’s sides and stared, heart thudding painfully in his chest.

“Uh huh,” Hyrule managed, panting as his laughter faded. There was a thump as his head fell back into the dirt. “Yessir!”

Fingers brushed over Legend’s wrist, brushed over his palm, and tangled with his own. A thumb pressed into his pulse point and his skin felt too hot, too hot, too hot—

Hyrule squeeze and Legend’s diaphragm decided that was enough to start working once more.

“If you’re sure,” the man said, his eye focused on Legend, picking apart his skin and bones and sinews to see into his soul.

He wanted to bare his teeth, wanted to draw his sword, wanted to run away from this maybe-knight and his wolf—

Legend nodded once and squeezed Hyrule’s fingers.

[sidecharactersdomatter]

Thoughts I had during TGCF S1 Ep 7

-Previously on TGCF…

-Xie Lian: I didn’t mean San Lang. Ruoye: Really? Ok! *lets go of him* (Sorry I just love coming up with dialogue for Ruoye, and you’ll see more of this later in Season 2!)

-Oooh the sudden chirping during the Sandstorm music, sounded similar to the noise Gale makes in Frozen 2

-He got him!

-It’s official!  Xie Lian is shorter than San Lang people! 

-It’s like they’re fondly embracing each other…

-Don’t be sorry Xie Lian, you’re doing amazing sweetie

-Hi Fu Yao and Nan Feng!  XD

-Xie Lian: Listen better!  You’re a bad band!  Ruoye: Sorry…

-Time to wrap up this rescue!  Pun count: 7

-There’s that wind chirping noise again

-I’ve heard of a close knit unit but this is just insane!  Eyyy (I’ve been waiting to use this one in another of my fave S1 episodes). Pun count: 8

-He doesn’t have any other options Nan Feng

-A cliff!

-Well it’s good to keep everyone together

-Is that Rock Plateau also similar to the Si Won Rock the Gaang found in the same desert episode? (Another good reference, and I hope there aren’t any buzzard wasps/circle birds and weird gross cave honey)

-I wonder who’s watching out for them anyway?

-Oooh a light spell from The Owl House (It’s official, TGCF has been helping me cope with the end of The Owl House people)

-I love NF and FY’s banter so much

-Aw he was concerned for Xie Lian

-Yeah how does he know so much about the perceptors?

-Oh really…

-It is really dark

-Well that ain’t great

-There’s so many people

-There’s pissed off Nan Feng

-I almost the uncle’s name was Jeong (like Jeong Jeong from the avatar) but it’s actually Jiang

-Diplomacy wins again

-Oooh now San Lang’s skeptic

-Why does the Guide Zhao also have red eyeliner?

-Man the only kid in the caravan

-The Sandstorm hasn’t let up

-He sat on a tombstone!

-The writings in Hanzi and not Arabic

-So savage Fu Yao

-I’m learning Mandarin and even I don’t know what it says

-They’re reading together folks

-And now Tian Sheng’s curious too

-The soldiers look similar to the army in Disney’s Mulan

-Yes that is so complicated right now

-Ooooohhh That poor poor general

-Fu Yao has experience of being on the battlefield

-Aww Tian Sheng

-Tripping on your shoe laces is not how anyone would want to go out oooohhh

-Yep it’s just comical picturing that final moment

-And then they all bow to it to respect the general it’s both funny and endearing!

Yep still can’t read it

-San Lang totally said that to trick them

-Oh and the way Xie Lian called San Lang a ‘Prankster’ *Fangirls like crazy!*

-COBRA!

-He caught the tail fwoo!

-That’s an animal that would totally fit in the Last Airbender world (I wasn’t kidding when I said this is for the Adult Last Airbender fans)

-San Lang using the cobra as a jump rope has added at least 10 years or more to my lifespan!  XD

-SO MANY COBRAS!

-Thank you Fu Yao and Nan Feng

-The Sandstorm is over

-No the kind merchant uncle!!!

-He got stung!

-Oooh that’s how you stop the venom from spreading

-Oh no and 4’s an unlucky number in China

-That’s good reason alright

-No telepathic communication out in the desert

-Oh no another cobra!

-He saved San Lang!

-Oh no now Xie Lian got stung!

-Oooh San Lang ordered Ruoye to become a bandage

-(Another spell that inspires my TOH AU, including the venom sucking for healing magic!)

-He is sucking the venom out like a G!  Get yourself a man like San Lang people!

-This moment between XL and SL is so freaking sincere

-I could do an essay on why Hualian is the superior ship than Stolitz is right now, but I might end up pissing off fans that watch and defend HB’s problems, so it’ll never happen

-Xie Lian’s so brave during the venom sucking

-You know we’re all thinking what Xie Lian’s thinking about how he’s going to clean San Lang’s bloodied lips (I’ll let you share your answers in the comment section)

-And San Lang makes the snake explode like a boss

-Aw Tian Sheng’s concerned

-He’s so selfless

-And Fu Yao’s stuck with merchant sitting

-Oooh a travel montage

-Really lovely desert travel music!

-And then Fu Yao gets pissed off while the merchants sneak away!  XD

-They made it to the ruins

-Yeah he does know an awful lot

-It’s those women again

-Oooh foreshadowing with that banter

-Uh oh the woman in the black cloak spotted them

-Another cliffhanger people

I know episode 6 in Season 2 came out today, but I’m finishing my reaction compilation of Season 1 before I get to the next season ok?

[bloodsworn-marshal]

Writing Prompt: Contravention Word Count: 1540 Bandit AU

It all started around ten years ago. 

When a teenage lalafell of an unknown background started to cause havoc for Ul’dah’s wealthy—but not nearly the lucrative job it would turn out to be later down the line. It started with your basic thievery. Pickpocketing here and there, stealing from merchant stalls when they were not looking or making a run for it when taken notice. Just little things here and there, with the help of some other unknown friends of theirs.

For the times he was caught, it usually ended with either a slap on the wrist due to age or a night’s stay in the gaol to try and frighten the squad of individuals who were involved in the petty crimes. Nothing serious or anyone hurt, just your common band of thievery people expected out of impoverished livelihoods. Punished but never helped. Let go and never knowing where they would go after.

Except none of them were officially from town. Their hideout far, far beyond the great walls and hidden deep within Thanalan’s desert. What goods and coin they managed to steal stowed away in these secretive locations to prepare for something more down the line.

Some years later, when they had reached adulthood and the pack of thieves had swelled… they were no longer regarded as an empty threat. Word was starting to get around of an organized group of bandits starting to make some headway in the local area. They were no longer resorting to petty thievery—they were outright starting to target those of the upper echelons.

These bandits, unable to find a foothold in Ul’dah quite yet, had started attacking traveling caravans full of merchant wares or known to be owned by those of high wealth. Stealing what they could and either selling things off discreetly, or slowly but surely growing their base of operations. Adventurers and sellswords would be sent after their lot but would either be knocked out if protecting someone’s possessions or they just could not locate the bandit’s base. It was that well kept a secret… no one knew where they went or where they hid.

There were, however, slip ups. And mainly made by one infamous young man in particular.

“Watch over him, soldier.”

“Aye, sir!”

The recently formed band of Immortal Flames had been instated within all of Thanalan’s grasps in preparation for trouble arising all over Aldenard. Wars were being waged with Garleans and castrums that were popping up like flies. The likes of a couple bandits were the least of their worries, but they had kept an eye out regardless. And so did they catch a suspicious young-looking man they would likely interrogate and see where they stood.

But before that, they had been captured and thrown into the gaol of which a certain Zura Calderon had been stationed on night watch. No questions asked of his superior, he merely stood guard as was necessary of him.

The unruly looking man appeared to be about Zura’s age in fact. Dressed in torn cloth and desert wear, not in the best of shapes as ratty ashy blonde hair pooled out from beneath their bandana. Dark menacing eyes that seemed to look so done with the world.

Zura couldn’t help but wonder what would lead someone down such a path that they ended up looking like this. So depraved and worn looking, as though they were lost in life. Against his better judgement, he couldn’t help but be curious.

“What are you in for…?”

“What’s it to you?” The man tilted his head as he sat upon a stool in his gaol. “They just think I look suspicious. Too close to their makeshift base or whatever. I wasn’t even doing anything.”

“You should know that it’s unwise to be anywhere too open at the moment! Lots of dangerous going on in the realm at the moment, so they’re checking just about anything and everywhere to make sure there are no Garleans in our midst—”

The guy simply rolled their eyes. “Do I really look like a warmonger to you?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well there you have it then.” They scoffed as they crossed their arms. “It’s just an excuse. Bet they’re locking up anyone that looks them the wrong way.”

Zura couldn’t exactly defend nor deny. He had yet to debut on the field after all and was just a simple private who had been but recently recruited. There to help as the crisis grew around the realm! So… one couldn’t help but feel a little bad if the guy was apprehended for no good reason.

“I’ll make sure to put a word in with the others if all is true and you’ve done no wrong. What’s your name, by the by?”

“Pipin Tarupin.” A name no one would soon forget in the near future. “Remember it, I won’t repeat it twice.”

This was but one meeting between the two that would result in many more down the line. 

As they made small talk, Pipin made himself out to be naught but an innocent bystander. And indeed, when no evidence of any wrongdoing could be found on his person at the time… he would be released in the morning and warned to stay away from the Immortal Flames encampments that weren’t official strongholds like Drybone.

Since then, no particular troubles had occurred until after the Calamity. The realm torn up as it was and in dire need of assistance from their neighbors, the great city-states focused on themselves and the alliance. Attempting to rebuild whilst burying the insurmountable amount of dead from Carteneau.

…That was when the bandits finally upped the ante and made their presence known.

For in the wake of the calamity, those of nobility and wealth hoarded a majority of resources for themselves in Ul’dah while the people suffered greatly. It wasn’t unheard of the lower class hitting rock bottom, hardly having anything to eat or coin to get by while the Sultanate made laws that benefited themselves.

It was then that the bandits targeted the great Ul’dah houses one after another. Breaking into homes and stealing off into the night, a band of thieves who had grown in great number since many years ago. Everything they stole of great worth and weight in coin… yet it was not fully distributed amongst themselves.

No, it was given back to those of lesser fortune. Secret agents of theirs would target those in great need and give to them a portion of the riches. Slowly growing in size and number of those they helped without there being a clear connection of where it came from. Their reputation grew in popularity amongst the impoverished in quick succession. To the point they were being aided in new ways and given the foothold they always needed.

And their leader? None other than the mysterious Pipin Tarupin. Who would get captured here and there on the off-chance that his banditry didn’t go fully to plan… but would always escape one way or another before he could be met with actual punishment.

Whether it be slipping out of his gaol, sweet talking the guards, or simply having a secret aid within the Immortal Flames; he would always get away with it. One way or another.

…So too would he clash blades with that selfsame soldier who had been promoted countless times over the years. Except now with knowledge that Pipin was the one who was orchestrating the bandits, Zura gave the man no mercy.

A thorn in each other’s sides they were. But sometimes. Sometimes they’d talk! Whether it be during a bandit run or if they’d happen to run into one another privately. Zura would try to get to the bottom of why the bandit leader was the way he was. Trying to make him understand that what he was doing wasn’t beneficial to anyone, to which Pipin would always laugh and prove otherwise.

Enemies… rivals… many ways to describe their relationship. As easy as it would be to kill the other, they would hardly shed blood. Nor did it help either’s moral predicament when Pipin’s main code for his bandit crew were that they would shed no blood. They were not to kill under any circumstance unless backed into a corner. And even when they were, they opted not to unless they were under attack by other rival gangs.

It was impossible for any regular Ul’dahn to hate them. They were the robin hoods that saved those of lower wealth from having a worse fate. Just in a not so legal fashion. To a point that it started to look bad on the Immortal Flames for giving them as much trouble as they did—even if it’s their job to actually do so!

It put Zura in a rough predicament thanks to the bandit leader’s reputation. Oft did he try to sway the leader to see his side of things or at least stop him from having such a stronghold on the citizens, but never would Pipin listen. Instead finding fun and amusement in seeing Zura squirm.

Regardless, Pipin Tarupin was wanted by the law for his many violating actions. Good intentions or no, he would eventually be brought to justice!

…Or would he?