#a whole hillside full of them...

[adventures-in-poor-planning]

ALERT ALERT I SAW MY FIRST WILD TRILLIUM GRANDIFLORUM IN 22 YEARS!!!

[lightwise]

Y’all…I am…this is….just incredible.

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 , various ! pt two

synopsis: his voice lines about you as his beloved partner

including: boothill, aventurine

side comments: my first voice line fic was well received and for that I thank you all <3 so of course this is for all my boothill and aventurine lovers out there! (including myself for boothill...)

extra: gn reader, angsty and fluffy moments, I genuinely loved writing boothill's, minor spoilers for both favourites: boothill word count: roughly 1000+

care to see the first part? includes dr. ratio, jing yuan, & blade!

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

WHO ARE THEY? I "Out here askin' question huh? Well if you're that curious... then you better listen close."

FIRST MEETINGS? "Met them on a bullet train in a neighbouring star system. Turns out we were chasing after the same fudge-heads. You could've seen them- a sly creature that's who they were, whipping out the most slick sniper I've ever seen. I'd reckon that was one of the most thrilling fights I've ever had: came out with dents all over my arms and a broken gun. Their bullets nearly punched a hole through my cheek... hah!"

GREETINGS? "They may be a load of dormant gunpowder, but they sure are sweet! Full of laughter and courtesy. But I'll let you in on a little secret... ( Name ) likes to walk in, pretty as always- and plant kisses all over my cheek before they even say a word."

PARTINGS? "Being a Galaxy Ranger means never staying in one place. ( Name ) is no Galaxy Ranger... I'd reckon it's better that way."

ABOUT US: SHOES IN THE HOUSE "I can't exactly 'take off my shoes' now can I? But ( Name ) likes to keep the house tidy and I best not anger them... like that one time- anyways, we came up with this whole fudging system just to keep the bottom of my damn boots clean! It's fudging ridiculous! *Chuckles* I can't help it, but ( Name ) is understanding. Even if I trudged through all the grime in the universe- they'd still wipe it all off."

ABOUT US: FAMILY "You see, ( Name ) has this big family. Siblings, cousins, extended cousins, aunts and uncles, you name it. We were on their home planet once, and I finally understood where ( Name's ) knack for puttin' a real good home together came from. Their family lives in the countryside where all you can see are open fields, lush hillsides, free-roaming animals and wildflowers. Consider it a quiet paradise. They even grow their own food for fudging sake! Everythin' made by hand and land. Darlin' nearly coaxed me into joining them for dinner once, but I knew better. Best not spoil the family get-together."

CHAT: HATS N' POSES "Personally, I like my hat and flare the way it damn is. How would fightin' be without it? But of course, your partner has to be a cheeky tease about it."

CHAT: WARMTH " I've seen it in the movies- those fudging 'romcoms'- and read it in books. When it gets cold... I'm no help. Can't do much except reach for a blanket and wrap them up. But even then, metal and skin don't fudging work."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Count me in on a dance sugar plum! Have to admit, darlin' has a fair share of good dance moves. Nothin' like a hard-earned victory being celebrated with a cool glass of whisky and a smooth dance."

ARGUMENTS: "Bitter things that's all they are. Leaves you knocked out cold. Reminds you of all the things you can't take back."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: "Following the hunt ain't an easy task. But someone has to punish the wretched. That's the thing about the hunt- you get cold, hard. Sugar follows another path that doesn't make any fudging sense to me. But that doesn't matter. None of that ever mattered, not to them, not to me or even the hunt. Call it selfish, but I'd like to one day settle down... Just like their family. Out where no one could find us."

WHO ARE THEY? II "They call me their 'sweet lover'. But really it should be me saying that. If anything I am the sweat of their brow- a nuisance at times. But they still love me. They still fudging love me."

EXTRA: IPC ENTRY "Normally, Galaxy Rangers travel alone. However, we have seen the wanted Galaxy ranger- Boothill- be accompanied by someone who appears to be a vagabond follower of Xipe. Despite the information we possess, the relationship between Boothill and his supposed 'partner' is very limited."

𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

WHO ARE THEY? I "Fancy meeting you here- oh? A rumor you say? Rumours do have peculiar ways of reaching the ears..."

FIRST MEETINGS? "All business ventures possess their gains and losses. However, I did not expect my pockets- alongside others- to be picked on a night meant to celebrate the Strategic Investment Department. The person who did it played their cards exceptionally well. I applauded them and the subtlety of their skills."

GREETINGS? "Despite their rather cunning nature, ( Name ) is quite kind... shockingly so. I thought their smile was a chip they played for their own meticulous advantage. *Chuckles* I was wrong, there was simply nothing to understand behind that smile."

PARTINGS? "One transaction after another, the universe keeps spinning. Don't keep up, you fall behind. Simple. I don't have to worry about that around them, or at least, for a while, until another wager must be made. Until the peck on the cheek is over."

ABOUT US: LOCKET "( Name ) has a keen eye for trinkets and bought- well stole- a locket for the two of us to share. I keep it with me, a lucky charm if you may."

ABOUT US: NAPPING "Personally, I don't nap. But, ( Name ) is a terrible influence and says I should. I must admit, waking up to them in the afternoon is not a bad way to spend my time."

CHAT: THEVERY "( Name ) is a thief... a good one at that. Oh don't worry, they struck a deal with the IPC. Primarily on their terms because they have been such a nuisance to the IPC. It's rather amusing seeing the IPC chase their own tail. We've definitely shared laughs over it."

CHAT: CONFESSIONS "Who could possibly love something so broken? It's like keeping a clock that won't tick or a deck of cards missing a queen. Sometimes, I wish they didn't care so much. It would be... easier."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Of course, a good game of cards is a fun way to pass the time. *Chuckles* Though, ( Name ) is a terrible player. Not that I mind, I'll guess I'll play the role of 'loser' this time around- best you not tell them."

ARGUMENTS: "What else is there to say? Nothing. That part is the worst."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: HEART OF GOLD "( Name ) steals to give to the poor. It's their motto... I saw them once with a group of kids on a planet in a distant star system. They were giving back to the orphanage- the smiles on the children's faces when given toys, marbles to be exact, were so bright."

WHO ARE THEY? II "In all honesty, I'm not quite sure. However, what I do know is that luck finally worked in my favour... I'll hold onto that for as long as I can."

EXTRA: DR RATIO'S OPINION "The gambler- without hesitation- will bet 'all in' even if it means his own life hangs in the balance. However, amongst the chaos of his bets, there is one person who will drag him back to reality... ( Name ). Aventurine will never gamble nor forfeit the one person who truly understands him. Even I don't fully understand the gambler's crafty nature. I suppose a thief is the only one who can and more importantly, will."

masterlist.

[saphronethaleph]

Generically Identical

A door chime rang, in one of the finest hillside estates near the town of New Centrif on the beautiful planet of Naboo.

Several seconds later, an elderly man in flowing robes opened the door.

“Yes?” he asked, before taking a step back at the sight of the dozen individuals in identical black robes. “...oh, Sheev sent you, did he?”

“Sheev is dead,” one of the robed men replied. “I am the Rising, named successor to Yupe Tashu who fell on Jakku. I await confirmation to become the viceroy of the Eternal. We have need of you.”

“Dead? Really?” Ken Palpatine asked. “You’re sure?”

The robed men exchanged glances.

“...how did you not notice?” the Rising asked, hesitantly. “He was on board a space station which exploded with enormous violence. It was all over the holonet last year. The Empire has been collapsing for months.”

“Oh, I don’t pay much attention to the news,” Ken said, shaking his head querulously. “I know how much of it is nonsense. Dead? You’re certain?”

“Yes,” the Rising replied, a mite testily. “We have need of you.”

Ken frowned.

“I’m not sure what you could possibly need me for,” he said. “Sheev did rely on me a bit during the Clone Wars when he absolutely needed to be in two places at once, but that was decades ago. I’m a bit out of practice pretending to be him.”

“You are the twin of the Dark Lord of the Sith,” the Rising stated. “You are his blood. You are the best choice to lead the Sith Eternal.”

“What about that apprentice he had?” Ken asked. “You know, Anakin. Vader. That one.”

“He killed your brother, and is also dead,” the Rising answered. “For both of those reasons, especially combined, he cannot lead the Sith Eternal.”

Ken still seemed a bit confused.

“Isn’t there anyone else?” he asked. “Sheev always has other plans. I know that much about him. He planned the death of our father when he was very young, you know. Precocious. I was never like that.”

“Had,” the Rising told him. “Though… we did not come to you first.”

“I should hope not, if it’s been a year,” Ken said, shaking his head. “Or you’d have been very lost. Who did you try, then?”

Another exchange of glances.

“We began by attempting to clone Sidious,” one of the other cultists said.

“Oh, yes, that was his cult name, wasn’t it?” Ken asked. “Oh, I haven’t thought about that in years. It’s quite nostalgic… where were we? I do apologize, you mustn’t let me get distracted like that.”

The Rising rubbed his temples.

“We attempted to clone Sheev,” he said. “Unfortunately attempting to flash-grow a clone that force-sensitive did… not go well. The result has skin that looks like corduroy and it’s impossible that anyone is going to think it’s you. I mean Sheev. Whichever. And there is no sign of his spirit returning from after death.”

Ken blinked at him.

“...you think that’s possible?” he asked. “If it was possible, how would any Sith ever die? The galaxy would be full of them.”

That led to some muttering among the cultists.

“Not the point,” the Rising said, firmly. “The point is, we’re not sure what to do with the corduroy clone – but you are the best choice we have to lead the Sith Eternal.”

“I’m not a Sith, though,” Ken protested. “Which sort of puts a damper on the whole plan, I’d say.”

“That is a problem that can be solved,” the Rising replied. “We will teach you.”

“...I can’t use the Force,” Ken replied.

“You can,” the Rising told him. “You have not been taught. We will teach you.”

“I’m over eighty years old,” Ken said. “Are you sure I can learn?”

“I don’t see why not,” the Rising answered. “It might take decades to become as proficient as Sheev was, but you will have those decades.”

Ken frowned.

“That bastard,” he said, absently thinking about his twin brother who’d assured him that only one of them was able to touch the Force. “All right, whatever. I’m in.”

He frowned. “And we could probably bring my son in on it, as well. He’s a bit of a deadbeat, but he does have his own starship… I don’t suppose you’ve checked him first?”

“We did, actually,” the Rising replied. “He is not Force-Sensitive.”

“Well, whatever,” Ken said. “I suppose it’d be nice to get to be the one ordering people around again. The problem with a comfortable retirement is that you don’t get much to do…”

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 15: Childe x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 6849

Warnings: Afab!reader, Traveler reader, friends with benefits to enemies then back to friends with benefits again, outdoors, impact play (male receiving), switching, femdom elements, handjob, mentioned cunnilingus, Childe being a pain slut

A/N: I have been fighting tooth and nail all day trying to get enough time to post this while I'm at work and nothing has wanted to cooperate with me. lol Also I wasn't able to have this one beta read due to my own negligence, so please forgive any mistakes. 🙈

⭐

You weren’t expecting to run into him out in the rolling fields and verdant grasslands of Inazuma’s countryside. In fact, you hadn’t expected to run into him at all. 

The last you’d seen of the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger was back in Liyue, a whole stretch of ocean between here and there, and he’d looked half dead on his feet at the time. But that was months ago now, and he seems to be back in good health as he lifts a companionable arm to wave over at you from further down the gently sloping hillside.

“Hello, comrade! How are you today?” 

An instinctive prickle makes you puff up as if to make yourself look bigger than you actually were, yet your hand pauses halfway through the motion of reaching for your sword. He wasn’t giving off any ill intent that you could pick up on where you were stood looking down at him, his posture relaxed and at ease to match the big, easy going smile on his face. Not that that really amounted to much in your mind anymore. After all, he hadn’t given the impression of someone who would summon a long sealed god to decimate a city full of helpless citizens the first few times you’d met either, but you knew how that had ultimately turned out for you. 

Still, you hesitate to draw your blade for reasons you can’t quite put your finger on. He looks friendly enough as he casually saunters his way up the hill, those long gangly legs of his easily clearing the distance quicker than when you’d climbed up here. And you’re just confused enough by his sudden appearance in such an unlikely place that you allow him to get closer than you probably should. Was he following you? 

“What are you doing here, Childe?” 

“Ah, I’d say I could ask you the same but I already know the answer don’t I? How goes your search, Traveler? Any luck yet?” Stopping about six feet away from you, the tall Snezhnayan lifts both his hands to brace them against his narrow hips. For a moment he just looks at you as if this were a completely normal, everyday encounter and not one that’s caught you utterly off guard. 

“I’m sure you know of the Fatui’s presence in Inazuma by now?” He finally says. “Not that I have anything to do with the gnosis or whatever is going on at the capital, mind you. I’m just doing some busy work, that’s all.”

“What sort of busy work?” You press, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously. 

“A simple investigation and nothing more. Interested?” 

Hesitating, you take a moment to quickly weigh out your options before deciding on the truth. “A little.” 

“Good. Something tells me you’ll be a lot more amenable if I’ve got information you want, so let’s chat. You’ve got the time, right?” Still grinning, Childe loosely drops his arms back down to his sides and starts to shuffle towards you with the clear intent of closing the distance. A nagging little voice in your head warns you to be careful of him and his sunshine smiles, but for some reason you just can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop or back off. 

Letting your mouth tug into a frown, you defiantly nudge your chin up as he comes to stand over you, his considerable height making it so you have to crane your neck back just a pinch to look him in the face. It was probably a mistake that you’d let him get so close but it was much too late to start backpedaling now. No way were you going to stand down and give him the satisfaction. 

“That makes it sound like I have a history of using you for my own purposes, but I seem to recall the exact opposite happening in Liyue.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to exact a little payback for that, Traveler. I’m right here if you want me.” He says, throwing you a quick, overly confident wink that makes your cheeks start to warm. This man … 

“If that was what I’d planned to do,” You softly intone, enunciating each syllable to make sure he catches every word clearly. “I would have done it when you were too injured to walk out of that Ruin Guard factory on your own. You seem to have plenty of connections to some bad actors but don’t mistake me for one of them. I’m not going to backstab someone after calling a truce.” 

Delightedly laughing in response, Childe lifts his brows at you in plain faced admiration. “Well said, comrade! I knew you had the true spirit of a warrior as soon as I met you. I’m glad you didn’t disappoint me.”

You breathe out a terse huff, nearly giving in to the urge to roll your eyes at the hypocrisy. But before you can let that juvenile compulsion get the better of you, Childe subtly shifts his weight and reaches out to just brush the tip of one gloved finger over your wrist. A soft inhale rattles in your chest at the contact, even for as brief as it is, and you widen your eyes up at him in question. 

“I know the same probably can’t be said of me,” He tells you, perfectly earnest now. “And you have my sincere apologies for that. If I promise not to do it again, do you think you can forgive me?” 

You catch yourself impulsively starting to say ‘for what?’ There was a long list to choose from, after all. Acting as if he was really going to kill you? Unsealing a long dormant monster from the bottom of the ocean floor to wreak havoc on a largely defenseless city? Or maybe it was all the underhanded trickery and little white lies he wanted your forgiveness for. 

But you don’t say it. What’s done is done, and in your eyes at least he’d already gone a long way in making amends to you during that impromptu adventure across the rocky Liyue countryside with his little brother in tow. It wasn’t perfect and it was certainly difficult to forget about that whole attempted killing thing, but you’d seen both sides of him now. Both the man and the monster, and you were fairly certain that Childe wasn’t actually a bad person. Of the few Harbinger’s you’d met so far, he was very close to being nothing more than a normal youth, the kind you could run into anywhere in Teyvat. Headstrong and a little foolish at times, but ultimately kind of heart. 

So you finally heave a quiet sigh through your nose and rock back to take half a step away from him, indicating that you were giving him the high ground now. “Fine. I’ll forgive you. If you’ll spar with me, that is.” 

“Oho. A challenge you say?” His smile instantly takes on a sharper edge, looking really quite eager now. “You wanna’ go hand to hand with me, Traveler? I’ve pretty much fully recovered from last time so be careful what you say.” 

You give your head a slow shake, trying not to giggle at his enthusiasm. “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re physically stronger than me and bigger too. The outcome of that is obvious.”

“Then weapons, to balance it out - -“ 

“No. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you or get hurt myself. I’ve still got a long journey ahead of me and I can’t take the risk of you getting too caught up in the moment to keep your strength in check. We’ll use something that won’t accidentally maim either of us.” 

“Alright, you’ve piqued my interest. What did you have in mind?” 

Pinning him with a sly, mischievous little smile now, you back up another step and then another, coaxing him to follow after you. True to nature, Childe doesn’t even seem to give it a second thought and he trails in your wake with an anticipatory grin stretched across his mouth. This was not the first time the two of you had looked at each other like this and as long as both of you continued to keep yourselves alive out there it probably wouldn’t be the last. 

Falling back to the edge of the shady tree line with him, you make quick work of unclasping your sword sheath from your hip so you can drop it in the grass. He watches you attentively while you do it, the visibly stiff set of his shoulders giving away his thoughts on the matter. Just as you’d anticipated, then. A hot blooded young man like him could only ever seem to think of three things at any given moment: fighting, fucking or eating. 

But you manage to take him by surprise when, rather than reaching down to relieve yourself of your clothes next, you instead stretch out your hand to grab a sufficiently proportioned stick from a nearby tree limb. You can see him looking at you rather strangely now from the corner of your eye while you work to get it broken off with a series of sharply brittle snaps before handing it over to him. 

Looking really quite perplexed now, Childe slowly takes the offering from you to hold it up for inspection. “And what are we going to do with this, solnishko?” 

“Spar. Didn’t we already agree to that?” 

“Ahh,” The dephtless blue of his eyes seems to glitter from within, lit by an internal spark as he gives the stick a brief wave through the air. “We’re going back to children’s games to settle our differences then. I like it. We’d have to try very hard to kill each other with these.” 

“Exactly, and no one should get hurt either. Not too badly, anyway.” 

Trying not to grin and failing, you pick out another low hanging branch that looks to be about equal in shape, width and length to the one you gave Childe, working to get it tugged down to another cacophony of rustling leaves and snapping wood. Soon enough the two of you are setting in to get the smaller twigs pulled off to leave just a bare strip of mostly smooth bark along your substitute weapons, exchanging snickering commentary back and forth while you do it. 

In truth you were now looking forward to this a great deal more than you’d expected to when the idea first came into your mind. Sure, it was a little silly and even childish but this should do wonders to repair what consisted of your relationship with the Snezhnayan, whatever that was. Things had been so easy and uncomplicated at first, when he was still showing you around Liyue like some kind of professional tour guide and throwing yet another purse full of mora at you every time you turned around. It just sort of made sense that you’d naturally fallen into bed with each on one or two, or three occasions. 

Alright, maybe it was more like a dozen but you’d had little else to do in the evenings after wrapping up preparations for the Rite of Parting with Zhongli, and the Harbinger always seemed happy to entertain you no matter what time you came calling. 

Even in its simplicity it was still far from ideal considering his various attachments to what seemed to be the opposing side and your own nomadic life in Teyvat. But it was fun and casual in a way that didn’t appear to beget any hard feelings at the inherently impermanent nature of the arrangement. If you could go back to even some small semblance of that dynamic with him instead of the largely awkward skirting around each other you’d had to endure in front of Tuecer then you would be quite pleased with the end result. 

And as the both of you move into position after deeming each other's sticks fight worthy, you realize just how much you actually missed this lighthearted atmosphere with him. You'd probably never be able to find quite the same balance between work and play as before considering how deeply entrenched the two were on both sides but as long as you came out of this as friends again then that would be just fine by you. 

“Shall I go easy on you, Traveler?” He laughs over at you, the playful note in his voice ringing loud as he rather proficiently twirls his stick over his knuckles. Cute trick. 

“Don’t even think about it. I still owe you a solid hit or two for the way you were acting underneath the Golden House but I plan to exact it fair and square.” 

“Ooh, how confident. I like that about you, y’know.”

“I’ve noticed.” Holding your branch much like you would a sword, you drop into a braced fighting stance. 

Childe takes that as his cue and does the same, giving his stand-in weapon one last flip over his broad hand before snagging it in a proper closed fist grip. Except the stance he falls into is wide legged and open, leaving enough vulnerable spots in his defenses that most would assume him an amateur if they didn’t know any better. 

You do know better though, and even after fighting him once before in a real high stakes battle you still take a moment just to study him. Broad shoulders and thin wasted, quite tall but not entirely filled out just yet. He’s almost lanky in a way that you think should make him seem awkward when he moves, just as his posture falsely implies he’s too loose in that stance and too over confident not to get his ass handed to him. 

But after seeing Childe in action firsthand you’re well aware he’s not only light on his feet and perfectly in control of his body, but also rightfully arrogant in his abilities. No matter how many openings you thought you saw in his pose, you’d probably be lucky if you were able to land even a single hit in any of them. 

That didn’t mean you weren’t going to try though. 

Nudging your right foot out to the side, you start to inch your way towards him going in at a wide berth. He smirks at you, catching on that you were looking for a real window to launch an attack through and not one of the ones he’d see coming from a mile away, shifting in the opposite direction to face off with you. For a drawn out moment, all you do is simply circle each other there in the clearing underneath the shade of Inazuma’s shuddering otogi trees, listening to a bird sing in the near distance. 

You carefully watch the powerful flex of his legs while the two of you move, waiting for the right moment to strike. And it finally comes when his boot subtly dips a little lower than any of his previous steps had. He’d likely just sunk into a small divot in the ground and the change in his balance is so slight as to be nearly imperceptible, but it’s enough. 

And you launch yourself forward, kicking off from the ground to give your swing enough speed. Drawing your hand all the way across your chest and back over your shoulder, you mercilessly lash out with the stick aimed right at his stomach as if to disembowel him. The stick swings through the air so quickly, in fact, that a sharp whistle rises up for a split second. 

It ultimately amounts to nothing, however, when Childe keenly dances back on his toes just in time to avoid the strike and your arm simply completes the full arc of the swing without ever hitting anything. Dammit. 

“Woah! You’re really not playing around, are you?” He laughs, falling back just enough to keep you at arm's length. “I thought you said no one was going to get hurt doing this?”

“Too badly.” You stress, smiling right back at him as you restore your footing on the ground and bring the stick back around in a parrying position. Something told you he was going to retaliate after that. “Considering how badly you knocked me around in your other form, I think at least one good hit is deserved.” 

“Aww, want me to stand still and bend over for you?” 

A surprised laugh bursts out of your mouth, thoroughly caught off guard by that. 

In that split second waver Childe makes his move. His long legs and arms give him the advantage now just as they did underneath the Golden House, and you don’t quite move quickly enough to miss the bite of his stick whapping into the meat of your thigh. The fleshy smack that results sounds much worse than it actually feels, and you bounce away from him on the toes of your boots to get spun back around again. 

“That was a dirty trick.” You giggle through the slight sting as he straightens up, arm angling back to brace the branch over his shoulder in a tauntingly casual pose. “And I thought you said you weren’t going to take it easy on me? I know you can hit much harder than that.” 

“Yeah, well, can’t say I’m much for hitting a woman who’s only armed with a stick. But if you want me to light up your cute butt for you so much I’d be happy to oblige.” 

A slow flutter curls through your stomach, reaching straight up into your chest cavity which slowly expands with the steadying breath you pull in. This was exactly what you’d missed with him. It’s also what had been decidedly absent the last time you’d encountered each other when Teucer snuck to Liyue to see him. You liked this playful, boyish side of him much more than the solemn Harbinger who’d stood in the Northland Bank with you, learning of Zhongli’s schemes together. 

In the here and now, looking over at him across the small space that separates you two, you suddenly realize you’re grinning from ear to ear. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

Childe’s smile grows to match yours, flashing pretty white teeth at you seconds before he lurches into motion. He’s on you in an instant, his gangly limbs once again proving troublesome as he reaches out with his free hand to snag at your forearm. Trying to twist away from his grab does you no good and you let out a squealing laugh as he half spins, half drags you in place to turn your body to the side and point your backend at his dominant arm. It all happens in such a quick blur of motion that you’re only vaguely aware of the stick whistling through the air seconds before he pops you right across the ass with it. 

Even through your dress and bloomers it hurts this time, and you let out a wounded sound of affront when you start to bring your own branch up to blindly swat at him. 

But Childe is already pulling away from you, laughing like a mischievous boy who’s just done something incredibly fun but naughty as he tries to duck out of your reach. He’s not quite quick enough though and you just manage to snag the back of his jacket with one hand while the other rears back to strike. 

You successfully get one good thwap in across his hip, making his laughter ratchet up another notch even while he shudderingly tries to drag himself away from you. The hold you’ve got on his clothes quickly begins to slip like this so you impulsively reach down to snag the back of his pants instead. 

That sudden yank around his hips seems to upset his center of gravity just enough to bring him to his knees, much too busy whooping it up to fight you off at the moment, but that was fine by you. Letting out a victorious sound, you bring your stick down right across the seat of his pants with a good amount of force. But much to your dismay he just laughs all the harder for it, crumpling in the grass at your feet now. 

Standing there panting rather heavily over him, you can’t help feeling a little silly in the aftermath. What were you even doing out here, taking a stick to his behind like a misbehaved child? He was almost twice your size for crying out loud! 

“Alright,” You finally say when his shaking shoulders start to even out again, trying very hard not to start laughing yourself. “I think we may have gotten a bit carried away there for a moment. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I suggested we spar.”

“Please,” He says with no shortage of effort, his voice thick with lingering chuckles and reflexive tears. “You should have seen your face, Traveler. I’ve never seen you look so surprised. You didn’t even look that shocked when I used my Foul Legacy transformation back in Liyue.” 

“Well, that hurt! Of course I’d look surprised when you were still pussyfooting around when you got me the first time!” 

Childe immediately starts to laugh again as if that was easily the funniest thing he’s ever heard and you narrow your eyes down at him, watching his shaking fist pound at the grass. Although you were glad the mood between you and him was much lighter than it had been before, you can’t help feeling a bit miffed about this turn of events. 

Once again waiting until his trembling laughter starts to subside, you audibly huff a terse breath to get his attention. “Did that really not hurt you at all? Not even a little bit?” 

“Sorry, but it didn’t. I’m afraid if your goal is to hurt me you’ll have to do worse than that.” Sniffling a wounded little sound, Childe slowly pushes up to brace on his hands and knees where he lets his head hang low for a moment, trying to catch his breath. “I haven’t laughed that hard in a very long time. Thank you.” 

Grumbling something unkind under your breath, you thoughtfully drop your attention down to the seat of his pants. The soft gray material was visibly rumpled from where you’d grabbed him but you could tell that he had just enough meat on his bones that he should have felt something. 

The notion that he was perhaps underplaying the sting, or had barely noticed it when he was uncontrollably laughing like that does momentarily cross your mind. But as you ponder over his narrow yet nicely defined ass an idea starts to form. Maybe the pants were actually the problem? 

Not stopping long enough to reconsider this decision, you quickly reach out to snag your fingers in the waist of his slacks so you can yank them down in the back. Immediately jolting, Childe snaps his head around to look at you over his shoulder with a genuinely surprised expression. 

“Hey — what are you doing?” 

“Just checking something. Stay still.” 

He noises an even more confused sound in response but doesn’t fight it as you yank at the material until you can get it pulled half way down. Across the narrow strip of creamy flesh you expose, you can clearly see a little red welt forming right across the meat of his cheeks as proof of your earlier strike. It certainly looked like it should have at least registered as a sharp bite into the flesh, and you were quite sure you had a matching one on your own behind to go with it, which still throbs even now. 

Lifting your hand, you gently soothe over the mark with a finger but he doesn’t even so much as twitch. “Do you really not feel that?” 

“It’s a little warm, I guess. Nothing crazy though.” A pause while he intently studies you. “Do you want to hit me again, see if you can make it hurt this time?” 

Your attention snaps up at that. “Are you sure?” 

“I don’t see why not, solnishko. You did say you owe me one good pop, didn’t you? I’ll even let you take my pants down if you’d like.” His mouth curls into a sly but still playful grin at that last bit. 

It’s his cocky attitude that ultimately sways your decision on the matter, quickly deciding that, yes, he did deserve at least that much from you. Even if only to knock him down a peg for just a moment. 

So you nudge yourself closer to kneel between the bends of his knees and lean into him, reaching around to his front. Quickly locating the clasp of his belt, you fumble to get it unhooked and then close your fingers in the material so you can pull his pants the rest of the way down without having to fight with it. 

Humming a rumbling sound of approval, Childe slowly lowers his upper half to the ground so he can brace his cheek along his folded arms, still peering back at you with a noted look of interest. You can guess what he thinks this will lead to, and you’d even admit he was probably right about that, but you still had an objective to accomplish first. Considering how much he’d left you banged up before, you certainly thought yourself entitled to some of that payback he’d spoken of. 

And as you peer over his backside, taking in all the lean muscle and the light smattering of pale freckles here or there, the reddish brown curls that are just a shade darker than what’s on his head, you understand why he doesn’t have any problem accepting a little punishment to go along with the pleasure. He was absolutely littered in scars from the tops of his thighs straight down to where they disappear in the pool of his pants and right up from the dip in his lower back to continue on beneath his light jacket. There’s even the jagged mark of a blade that was plunged into his hip — not very deeply, by the looks of it, but enough to leave a reminder. 

On one hand it was astounding that he’d even managed to live this long, given how reckless you knew him to be and all of the proof of past fights marring his skin. But on the other hand you could see now why the sting of the tree branch hadn’t even really registered in his mind. He was not only used to the pain but also probably numb in certain spots thanks to all the scar tissue. 

You’d known that going into this, of course. This certainly wasn’t the first time you’d seen him naked. But his pert little ass was almost entirely blemish free and a strange feeling in your gut compels you now to mark him up and fill in all that blank space, even if only temporarily. 

“Don’t be scared to do it.” He murmurs back at you, snapping you from your thoughtful trance. The vague pinprick sensation of goosebumps erupts across your skin as you watch him shift slightly to bring one of his hands down, reaching between his legs to idly curl the fingers over his ballsack and draw your attention to it. “As long as you don’t aim too low it’ll be fine. These are sensitive, so the one thing I’d ask is that you don’t aim here.”

“I think I can do that.” You croak, suddenly feeling almost dizzy with the sharp rush of arousal that shoots through you. 

These sorts of power games weren’t usually on the itinerary, or at least they hadn’t been before. But, you supposed, things had changed and the dynamic was slightly different now even if the two of you were no longer on rocky footing with each other. You have to figure out how to adjust and slip into this new role though, so you take a moment to palm the backs of his lean thighs and give them a brief squeeze, allowing yourself a chance to relax into it. 

Breathing out a faintly shuddering breath, Childe massages over his balls one last time with that lingering hand before withdrawing his arm so he can brace it in the grass again. Seeing how relaxed and resigned he is to this particular development encourages you and spurs you on, and your palms boldly slide up higher to feel over the rather petite swell of his ass. He’s so tall and thin that you’d almost expected him to be completely flat but he’s actually got a very shapely behind for as small as it is. There’s even just enough fleshy give for your fingers to sink into him just so, and you take advantage of this opportunity to find the fattest part to strike him in. 

It’s not long before your own excitement turns into a constant, thrumming buzz that soon prompts you to reach for your long abandoned stick again. Shifting slightly to the side so you can kneel next to him rather than directly behind, you bring the thin wisp of wood up to place it delicately over the fleshiest part of him right across the center. From your peripheral you can see his shoulders hitch slightly to accompany the faint inhale you catch, but he doesn’t protest or move to pull away. 

Was he really willing to go even this far if it got him back in your good graces? You hadn’t even considered that as a feasible possibility until now. 

“Is here fine?” 

“Should be.” 

The vaguely intoxicated, thick quality of his voice makes you blink but a quick peek between his legs reveals the source. You’d been so focused on his ass that you hadn’t even noticed him getting hard. 

Straightening back up, you give the stick a gentle nudge against him to make sure you’ve got his attention. “One hit to make up for what happened in Liyue. That’s it, and then we can do … something that’s fun for the both of us. Does that sound fair?” 

“Aww, Traveler. Don’t threaten me with a good time, now. You can do it as many times as you want and I won’t stop you.” Rocking back slightly to deliberately push against the stick, Childe offers up a threadbare little laugh. “I’m curious anyway. Can you hurt me? Or are you just all talk?” 

Of course you can see what he’s doing from a mile away and you find that you have half a mind not to give him what he wants, just to see how he’ll behave then. But unfortunately you’re feeling much too on edge and anticipatory to deny him if it also meant denying yourself, so you pull your arm back into a full bend that leaves you ready to lash out. 

“Tell me you’re sorry, Childe.” 

“Wha — oohhn!” The noise abruptly tumbles right out of him as soon as you bring the stick across the vulnerable swell of his ass, cracking him right over both cheeks. He sounds more surprised than hurt, but he also shudders faintly as he twitches forward with the impact. Immediately chasing it with a low, vibrating rumble, he turns his face inward to let out a breathy laugh into the grass. “Sorry, Traveler. I know you weren’t very happy with me or that stunt I pulled. Forgive me?” 

You swallow your nerves down hard, struggling to formulate a coherent response to that. He almost sounded more amused than hurt … could it be he actually liked this? 

Ever so carefully, you pull the stick back from him to find another red welt marring his skin, this one much more pronounced than the first. So his pants had protected him from the full brunt of your earlier swing. 

And he gives his hips a brief wriggle at the loss, making his half hard cock swing pendulously between his legs. Clearly inviting you to either keep going or help yourself to other parts of his body, if you so wished, and you got the distinct sense he was happy with whatever as long as you were there with him. Did that in turn mean he’d missed you too, just as you had missed him? 

Consideringly, you glance down at the stick in your hand and then back over at his defenseless, upturned ass again. There was still an awful lot of unmarked skin there. 

Feeling some of your confidence return now, you fidget on the ground to straighten your spine and round your shoulders, before finally speaking with a smart intonation. 

“We’ll see … I think you can apologize better than that, don’t you? Tell me how sorry you really are.” 

A stiff flex works down his spine at that and he groans, breathy and soft to indicate his agreement. 

“I’m ever so sorry, Traveler — mmmhn!” 

“Without the sarcasm, Childe. Thank you.” 

Restlessly shifting in the grass now, he turns his head to peer over at you with a hazy look on his face that speaks of deep felt satisfaction. Whether it was because of your presence there next to him or what you were doing to him, it was impossible to say, but you decidedly liked that expression on him. It was nice to see him turning into a boneless puddle in response to what you were doing for a change. Usually he was a little too energetic for you to corral. 

His body language reads of perfectly willing submission now though, and you feel unexpectedly powerful as you draw your arm back in preparation to strike him again. This wasn’t just fun from your own perspective of retribution, though it's certainly that too. It was also just an exciting way to reacquaint yourselves with one another and set new boundaries after the previous ones had been shattered by his reckless actions. Although not what you’d expected to come of this, you’re quite glad things had turned out this way. 

So you thwack him once more, catching Childe right across the tight swell of his ass under the previous welt, making him slide his eyes shut and suck in a quick breath. 

“Try again.” 

“Oohn, I’m sorry, Traveler. Please forgive me.” 

Another sharp swat. “Again. I need to know you’re serious about this. Do you have any idea how much you scared me, suddenly transforming into a monster like that?” 

“Mmmm, I know. I wasn’t actually planning on hurting you though.”

“Then you don’t know your own strength.” Chiding him, you give his reddening behind another smack to leave one more faint line running across his cheeks. “I was so banged up I wouldn’t have been able to deal with Osial if everyone hadn’t stepped up to work together. I’m not very happy about that either, by the way.” 

Groaning a low, rattling sound now, Childe lifts his face slightly to fix you with a distracted, dreamy smile. “Give yourself a bit more credit, Traveler. I always knew you could handle it — hnng! Oooh, man. Gotta’ say, that’s really starting to sting the more you do it.” 

Well, at least you were making progress. “Do you want me to stop? I’m satisfied if you are.” 

He hums a soft sound of consideration at that, hips listlessly flexing as if he was starting to get antsy and impatient. And as soon as you lean closer to peer between his thighs, you understand why. Where he’d been only half filled out before, his cock was now achingly stiff and dribbling a slow bead of precum into the grass underneath him. The sight alone is enough to make you shudder fiercely where you’re knelt beside him, close enough that he doesn’t miss it, and Childe offers up a stretched thin laugh in response. 

“Yeah, wanna’ help me out with this? Could really use some of that sweet attention of yours right now.” 

You watch him give his hips a slight wriggle to make his cock tauntingly bob and draw your attention to it, and any resolve you may have had left immediately dissolves. Alright, you could forgive him. 

Quickly tossing the stick away, you nudge yourself right up against his side so you can reach under him and take his twitching length in hand. Childe gives a brief jolt at the contact only to then eagerly lean into it, pelvis working down into your fist. At the same time, you slide your other palm up along his thigh and smooth over his pink ass in a slow, savory gesture that’s meant to really rub the sting in. And it works, his chest stuttering with the hissing breath he abruptly sucks in before slowly shaking his head with a bothered groan. 

“Still not satisfied? Oohhhn … remind me to never get on your bad side again.” 

“And don’t you forget it.” You murmur, squeezing your thighs together in a blithe attempt to alleviate some of the sticky tension there even as you set in to work him over, pumping his cock with measured strokes of your hand. 

It’s clear he appreciates it and even enjoys it, but the attention grabbing throb over his ass seems to be quite distracting for him at the same time. Still, he doesn’t protest or try to pull away, merely trembling there on all fours while you insistently tug at him. 

You keep your other set of fingers busy drawing soft nonsensical patterns over the lifted welts on his skin for a drawn out moment before reaching a little lower to massage over his taint instead. That makes him sway almost unsteadily, gingerly pushing back into you with a gutted sound of pleasure. 

“Do you like that, Childe?” 

When he tries to speak all that comes out is a haggard sound so he sucks in a deep breath, steadies himself and tries again. “Y - yeah. I do.” 

Feeling your own excitement climb just a bit higher, you stroke is cock more vigorously to make his balls heavily sway with the motion. He looked so good like this, sounded so good when he was softly gasping like that. You could easily get used to this, you think. 

“Then cum for me. Go on. Let me see you shoot your load all over the ground, and then you can come eat me out with your sore ass in the air.” 

“Oohn! Shit!” 

He almost violently lurches against you, his narrow back dramatically arching for a painfully short moment before a sudden spasm takes hold of him. Breathlessly gasping and groaning, whining ever so softly in the back of his throat, Childe rides out the regretfully short lived flex of his juddering hips as his cock wildly twitches in your palm, releasing strings of creamy white discharge to plop harmlessly in the grass. Still lightly running your fingers over his taint, you’re rather pleased to find that the simple stimulation seems to encourage his orgasm to drag out until his balls have nothing left to give, and he just impotently shudders through the final few tremors. 

Finally wheezing a heavy sound of relief, all the stiff muscles in his body go lax all at once to leave him roughly panting, trying to catch his breath again. You can’t help feeling really quite pleased with yourself as you sit back to watch him recover, eager for your turn but still perfectly content just to observe him for the moment. He really was gorgeous, and it made for a potent cocktail when paired with how unexpectedly satisfying it was to have a man as powerful and headstrong as him on his knees for you. Yes, you certainly could get used to this. 

Although you weren’t entirely sure how he’d found you here in Inazuma you’re glad he had, and you full on grin at him when he at last recovers enough to bring his head up to look at you. 

“How was that?” 

“Perfect, you little minx. Now come here,” With a bestial growl and a quick flash of his teeth, Childe reaches out to snag your ankle before you can think to pull it away, physically dragging you across the ground towards him. 

Squeaking a small sound of surprise, you fall half of the way back to brace your elbows in the softly rustling grass, but he’s merciless in the way he pulls you closer. The motion catches your skirt under you and bunches it up, leaving your bloomers already partially exposed as he goes up on his knees to loom over you. Pausing only long enough to send you a darkly masculine, hungry look, he quickly sets his sights on the band around your waist to roughly tug it down, leaving you giggling an eager sound into the faint breeze. 

“If that’s the way you want it, fine. I’m game.” He croons at you, smirking deviously when he palms at your thighs to force them apart in a wide spread that fully bares you at him. “Just don’t go crying about foul play later, Traveler. I’m not going to go easy on you this time.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[stone-stars]

Transcript:

Caldwell: So, turn to page 114. [Pages rustle. Caldwell clears his throat.] Emily: And this is where we win! Caldwell: Mhm. I-- Can mommy take a quick wine break? Murph: Uhh-- Emily: Yeah. Murph: Yeah. Caldwell: (audibly drinking) Mmm. Emily: Oooh, does mommy need a bath to go with that wine? Does mommy need a bubble bath to go with that wine? Caldwell: (laughs) Mommy needs some bubbles! Take the kids, uh-- Emily: (laughs) Does mommy need to bring the iPad into the bubble bath? Caldwell: Ohhhh, I'm so behind on Good Wife. The kids are at the church lock in… and I'm gonna go hog wild. [Murph and Emily laugh.] Caldwell: Drink a whole bottle of wine and light four candles from different seasons. Emily: Oh, that sounds terrible. Just a fucking hot bath and a f-- a full bottle of wine. [Caldwell laughs.] Murph: A hot bath, a full bottle of wine, and a candle that smells like leaves, one that smells like trees, one that smells like the beach, and one that smells like….. snow? Emily: Awww. Caldwell: Snow. (exaggerated) Snow? Emily: Just all of them going at the same time? So it's just confusing your nostrils? Caldwell: Yeah. It's just a seasonal deluge. Emily: This just sounds sick. Murph: Go on, Caldwell. Caldwell: (reading) "The garage door--" um, yeap. "The garage door is embedded in the hillside. Strange sounds come from the other side."

[callsignredwolf]

At Heaven's Gates

Pairing: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Guardian Angel!Reader Summary: In the vastness of the universe, there exists a world out there where you're Johnny's guardian angel. Warnings: Mentions of major character Death. Word Count: 1577

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You were an angel, born in an instant. Whole and radiant, your soul was bound to another. A mortal soul, belonging to a sweet baby boy with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes of blue. From the moment he drew breath, maybe even before, he was yours to watch over, yours to protect. His entire life was laid out before you, detailed in gold on a long, sprawling ledger. Every high and every low, from beginning to end. And with every moment etched into your mind, you set off to meet him, taking your place as his ever-present shadow, silent and waiting.

There's an old, dirt road leading all the way from Johnny's house to the aging, white church nestled in the hillside. It wasn't a short walk by any means, and he didn't understand why his Ma insisted on rousing the whole family at the peep of day, all so they could don their best garms and shuffle through the dirt, while everyone else road in cars.

"It's a waste, lamb," His mother had said to him that morning, only half paying him mind as she rummaged through her jewelry box. She made a small sound of relief once she found what she had been searching for, attaching the small pearl earring to her ear quickly before leaning into the mirror to check her lipstick.

"And anyway," she continued. "The neighbors only drive because they're wantin' to show off." And then she was on about the stuffy, old women in the church with their saggy stockings and floral perfume that always set her head off hurtin'.

"They're always lookin' as if they've got something to say, but never say it," she was saying, but truth be told, Johnny had stopped listening a while ago. She could go on all she wanted, but none of that explained why he had to suffer out in the chilly morning air wearing shoes that pinched his feet.

"Are you listenin', John?"

He most certainly was not.

"Yeah, Ma, I just don't understand why we've got to walk when no one else does." He knew he was whining, but in his defense, it usually worked in his favor. Johnny was the youngest of his three siblings, and his mother's clear favorite, though she'd never admit it. On most days, all it took was a little pressing and he'd have whatever he wanted. However, this morning did not belong to one of those days.

His mother looked at him through the mirror with an expression that was far less than amused.

"Well then, you clearly weren't listenin, were you?"

"I was, Ma. But-"

"Go on then, John. I won't work it 'round again with you again. We've got to be leaving soon. Go on and wait on the porch. I'll be out in a minute." She turned around to face him properly, giving him a pointed look with his same sapphire eyes. "Go on then."

It was safe to say, from that moment on, Johnny's mood had been ruined and in turn, his behavior only deteriorated as the morning progressed. He followed behind the rest of his family, sulking and kicking up rocks as he went. He hadn't meant for one of the tiny pebbles to soar higher than the others and strike his sister in the ankle, but that didn't save him the scolding form his father. And when his older brother had tried to raise his spirits with a bit of harmless horseplay as they approached the church, it was Johnny that received the stinging pinch to his arm.

"Stop carrying on like that," his mother hissed in his ear. "People will see and think we've raised a lot of heathens."

"You've gotten too big to be actin' a fool like that anyhow," his father added. When Johnny attempted to bring up his brother's involvement, who was a full two years older than his thirteen, he was met with a decisive hush.

Completely put out with his entire family, and in the mood to give them all a dose of punishing silence for the rest of the day, Johnny took his seat on the hard wooden pew, with his arms folded across his chest and a displeased scowl on his face. But despite his rear falling asleep ten minutes into the sermon and the booming voice of the preacher bouncing off the walls, a heavy cloud of sleep settled on Johnny's shoulders. He fought it off as best he could, but it was no use, and the next thing he knew, he was slinking through the church doors in the direction of home, his ear still aching from his mother's iron grip.

Now, the question of where you were this whole time is simply answered. You were with Johnny, as you had been every other moment of his life. From your place high up on the balcony, wooden banister pressing into your ribs, you saw the moment when Johnny had been sent home alone by his mother for falling asleep during service.

Normally, you would have found yourself giggling at the scene playing out before you, entertained by his silly antics. But today you couldn't bring yourself to even crack a smile. Instead, you were fraught with nerves.

The day Johnny was born, you were shown every moment of his life in vivid detail, and some of those moments were marked with stars. Destined and unchangeable, those moments were scattered all throughout his life, moments that would shape who he was as a person. Some were bright and full of love and excitement. Others, such as the one marked for today, loomed like a foreboding cloud that set your stomach fluttering with unease.

You followed behind him, down that long dirt road, an unseen apparition filled with worry. It was a car, set to come barreling down the road at any moment, that would strike your Johnny and send him tumbling down a rabbit hole of pain and brokenness, ambulances and hospital stays.

You'd seen it all yourself, and yet it was still so hard to imagine in this moment, when he walked just out of your reach, whole and unscarred.

The early spring breeze sent the tall grass on either side of the road moving back and forth like the waves of an ocean. Johnny raised his head and looked off at something you couldn't see. You didn't try to follow his gaze to see what caught his attention. Your mind was on something else, a plan that was unfolding suddenly, but still not fast enough.

You didn't have time to think it through, not when you thought you could hear the rumbling of an engine off in the distance. Not when your Johnny was in danger.

There, around his neck, was a sliver of blue. Not quite the color of his eyes, but just as shiny and bright. It was a hand me down, a tie that had been worn by his older cousin, then his brother, and now it hung undone on top of his collar.

You reached for it, unsure if your fingers would even be able to grasp the smooth material, but you decided to take the chance anyway. The surge of elation that flooded your veins as you pulled it free from his neck made you nearly jump for joy.

His head turned in your direction, a look of surprise painting his features. You heard him blurt out a word that would definitely land him in hot water if either of his parents had been around to hear, but you didn't care, taking off into the field of grass at your side with his tie in tow.

Of all the possible ways Johnny could imagine his day getting worse, losing his tie to a stiff breeze had not been one of them. The look in his mother's eyes had all but promised punishment when she returned home from church come the afternoon, and he shuddered to imagine how much angrier she would be if he admitted to losing his tie on the way home. Without hesitating, he darted off after the slip of fabric that was gliding and sailing further away from him with each passing second.

With a gleaming smile curling your lips, you cast a glance over your shoulder, the feeling of triumph practically radiating from you at the sight of Johnny hot on your heels. The road was disappearing as you ran further into the high grass, and when the ill-fated car came barreling down its path, it was nothing but a slash of silver in the distance.

You could hear Johnny closing the distance between you, muttering curses the whole way. You began to slow your pace as you approached a small tree with low branches. You climbed one and then another, dangling the tie from your fingertips in an attempt to look as natural as possible. Whether it did or not, you didn't care. All you cared about was him being safe. Your Johnny was sweaty and out of breath, and safe.

You watched him climb the first branch and then the second one, his face now just inches from yours. He couldn't see you, but as he pulled the tie from your fingers, there was a second, a heartbeat of a moment, where his blue eyes settled on you and warmth flooded your body down to your toes. It was then that you knew you loved him. Your Johnny.

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter Two: Miss Congeniality - Katsuko meets many residents of Azuchi... but not her fake fiance.

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Previous Chapter

Logline - In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this “all business” arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga… and by feelings.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari…

A good General will ensure that his soldiers are provided with not only food, but also appropriate armor for upcoming battles. It would be illogical to send warriors onto the battlefield on an empty stomach, but even more so for them not to have protection from the weapons of enemy forces. The initial cost of armoring soldiers will be far repaid in ensuring safety (as much as possible given a situation of war) and loyalty.

Personal comments: Lady Mai requested permission to help “re-design” the Oda soldier uniforms. It is difficult to refuse Lady Mai anything, however such a decision rests in the hands of Lord Nobunaga and Lord Hideyoshi – neither of whom find it easy to refuse Lady Mai either. However, Lord Mitsuhide has stated he has another task for Lady Mai… This prompted Lord Hideyoshi to use more words I am not comfortable writing down.

Two days after leaving the mountains, I arrived at Azuchi Castle. Kyubei left me waiting near the gate, while he alerted Mitsuhide to our arrival. Though I’d previously spent a couple weeks in the castle town, I’d never been inside Azuchi castle itself and I was happy enough to have some time within the gates to look around. Up close, the tenshu was impressive building, rising from a thick stone base, up seven stories to tower over the hillside. There was even a balcony surrounding the uppermost floor, and I wondered if Nobunaga spent much time up there. Must be nice to be able to see the entire countryside from your bedroom.

Feeling slightly like a gawking tourist, I took a step backward to get a better look, and –

WHAM!

I’d backed right into the path of a young man who’d been on his way inside, his arms loaded full of books and papers. The resulting collision sent the books to the ground and the papers into the air--

Where they were caught in a gust of wind and went flying toward the gates.

“I’m so sorry!” I helped him chase after the errant papers. We (actually I) caught most of them, but one got stuck in a tree, entangled in a branch about three meters off the ground. Without letting go of his armload of retrieved papers and books, the man tried to climb the tree, and ended up nearly dropping everything again.

Not wanting to repeat the whole chasing down experience, I piled the books, scrolls, and odd scraps of paper back in his hands and pointed to the one in the tree. “Don’t move. I’ll get that one,” I told him, and scampered up to retrieve the page. I jumped down and gave him the paper, which he accepted with a quick bow. “I hope you’ll be able to put them all back in order.”

“There was no order to it – although… that would make it easier to keep track of it all, wouldn’t it?” He shuffled everything into an untidy bundle and tucked it all under his arm. “Thank you for your assistance, and my apologies for walking into you.”

Now that I was no longer scrambling after his paperwork, I finally was able to get a good look at him – messy dark grey hair falling into distracted violet eyes and a lovely, but unfocussed smile. I’ve seen him before! The clumsy bookworm… Mitsuyori? No… Mitsunari. Well, how could I forget the booksellers’ most loyal customer (who never actually bought anything)? Of course, since I couldn’t admit to spending time in Azuchi disguised as an elderly bookseller, I kept my expression neutral and pretended this was our first encounter.

“Actually, I think I walked into you. I was looking up at the tenshu. It’s spectacular.” I turned my face to the top of the castle once more.

He nodded, then smiled at me again, this time at least seeming to register my presence. “I remember how I felt when I first came here two years ag- Oh no! Why am I here?”

He stared hard at the castle, as if some stray thought was eluding him the way the papers had nearly eluded me. Since I doubted the question was either rhetorical or existential, I stayed quiet while he continued to gaze at the castle walls. “I didn’t mean to come here today; I’m supposed to be -” His expression changed to panic when the guard on the towers called out the change in vigil. “I’m late! Please accept my apology for running you over.”

“Of course, but it was my fau-” I stopped because he had already turned around and rushed down the hill.

Huh.

I watched him until he disappeared from view.

Sweet.

But… possibly not tethered to reality.

“Katsu!” Kyubei tapped my arm to catch my attention. “We’re to meet Lord Nobunaga in the tenshu.”

Dismissing the young man from my thoughts, I followed Kyubei up (and up, and up) to the top of the tenshu, where Oda Nobunaga was waiting for us in his rooms. Without prompting from Kyubei, I bowed low, aware that this was a formal audience, and possibly the first test of my manners.

In return, Nobunaga lightly dipped his head. When I finally rose and met his eyes, there was a hint of amusement in them. As it turned out, Nobunaga remembered ‘Katsu’ from our encounter in Osaka earlier this year.

“Fortune works in interesting ways, for you’ve ended up working for me after all, Katsu.” He lounged on a dias in an indolent pose, but there was an aura of kinetic energy around him that suggested he could go from restful to predator in an instant. “However- did you not say that you worked for a merchant who is like a father to you? Mitsuhide left me with the understanding that he was reaching out to a man who has some dealings in espionage.”

I bowed again. “Is a spy not a merchant of information?” Then, because he seemed to be in limbo between trust and distrust,” I added. “My business in Osaka the day we met was personal. I was not there spying for my master, and indeed my work for him generally only involves delivering messages. I didn’t tell him that we’d met.” I might have done so otherwise had not so many other things not occurred that day. In fact, I was flattered Nobunaga remembered me at all given that someone had tried to kill him that night.

While he seemed to think that over, I took in my surroundings. Like Aki’s office, there was a western influence in Nobunaga’s rooms, although the European objects (huh, he had even had what looked like a child’s stuffed bear mixed in there) displayed amongst Japanese works were displayed with more taste and flair. It was like the difference between walking into an episode of hoarders, versus walking into a museum. Then again, Azuchi castle had only been completed a couple years ago – Nobunaga likely hadn’t had enough time to accumulate the volume of tchotchkes that necessitates a once-a-decade konmarie purge.

Politeness required that I stay quiet until spoken to, and in any case additional exploration would have to wait, as a pair of voices approached. The combatants were arguing so loudly that I could hear them long before they appeared in the doorway.

“- this must be the most ridiculous scheme you’ve ever dreamed up,” said one man, sounding like he had had it up to here with the other person. “You have yet to convince me that you have any chance of success.”

“My dear Hideyoshi, you don’t need to be convinced. You only need to stay out of the way,” came the reply in a cool, mocking tone of voice, as a silver haired man came into the room. At his heels was this ‘Hideyoshi’ – yet another man I recognized from the booksellers. If I thought he had looked frazzled back then, it was nothing compared to him now. He had the look of a man who woke up every day to discover that imps had rearranged his furniture and placed his desk directly in the path of his shin. Then again, the other man had the look of a person who would indeed rearrange furniture; then stand by to watch the fun. So perhaps Hideyoshi came by his frazzle honestly.

Both stopped talking when they saw me standing there. Both subjected me to long, assessing stares. Ok guys, dial it back a notch… I’m not a used car you’re buying off the internet. “This is the young man you’re going to pass off as a Princess?” Hideyoshi crossed his arms and frowned as he turned to Nobunaga. “My lord, please, put a stop to this now. There are other ways we can handle this situation.”

Hm… should I feel insulted or complimented? While I was glad that my male disguise was so convincing, it was hurtful not to be deemed feminine enough to portray a girl. Although it was also possible that Hideyoshi was so against this plan that even someone like Miyahara Satoko would not be considered feminine enough.

Ignoring Hideyoshi, the other man (who I was certain had to be Mitsuhide) circled me, apparently mentally kicking my tires… and if he thinks he can open the hood and peek into the engine, my tires are going to kick him back. “I hate to admit you have a point. It may be impossible to turn this one into a convincing woman.”

I was seconds away from throwing myself a gender reveal party when I caught the teasing expression in Mitsuhide’s eyes. Ah ha ha… he knew I was female. This was a test. With an exaggerated eyelash flutter, I dropped into a graceful and dramatic bow, and said in my best boy-pretending-to-be-a-girl falsetto, “Why Lord Aketchi, that wasn’t what you said when you propositioned me in Kyoto last week.”

That earned me a smothered laugh from Kyubei and a long look from Mitsuhide. He turned to Nobunaga. “She’ll do.”

“Yes. I have prior acquaintance with Katsu and have judged him quick witted and resourceful. Your plan has merit.” Nobunaga didn’t exactly finish his statement with the words, ‘the great and powerful Oz has spoken,’ … but it was implied.

Hideyoshi stepped back as if he had been stung. I almost felt sorry for him, but my ego was still pouting from before.

I turned back to Nobunaga, figuring I’d better let him in on my current disguise. “Thank you. As it happens, I’m actually-”

“I’m sorry!” A pretty woman about my age hurried into the room. She was the epitome of femininity, even with (especially with?) a smear of rice flour across her face, and I wondered why she hadn’t been tapped to portray this Princess. “Masamune has been teaching me how to make dumplings.”

Nobunaga patted the cushion at his side. “Should I be jealous of the time you’re spending with the one-eyed dragon?” But his scolding was accompanied by a fond smile that transformed his fierce mien into something softer and more approachable.

The woman snuggled into his side with a smile. “Perhaps I am learning to cook something special for you.” He kissed her hand and for a moment the two of them might have been encased in their own personal bubble. I looked away, feeling like I was spying on a private moment.

Mitsuhide had no such restraint. “Mai, might I interest in you in a rather large sewing commission?”

She sat up straight and looked at him with excited interest. “Do tell.”

Hideyoshi gestured to me. “This is Katsu. Can you possibly-” he sighed. “Turn him into a girl?”

That earned me her intense scrutiny. She smiled. “You mean, back into a girl.”

I like her.

“Little Mouse, you’re always surprising me with your hidden depths.” Mitsuhide turned his attention to Kyubei. “Akihira determined that this person-.”

“Katsuko.” Kyubei supplied my true name. “She’s been my contact through Akihira for the past four years and I believe she is suitable for this task.”

“I trust your judgment.” Mitsuhide bowed respectfully to Kyubei. It was a bow of a friend to a friend, not a master to a servant, and my estimation of Mitsuhide rose slightly in due to the positive way he treated his subordinate.

“Now hold on!” Hideyoshi’s frown had intensified and his hair puffed out in kinetic disapproval. “The only reason I agreed to this in the first place was because you agreed to find a boy to play the princess… It’s too dangerous otherwise.” He directed his final objection to Mai, as if hoping for a female voice to help overrule Mitsuhide.

“I can handle myself in combat.” Well. I could defend myself, at least, then run like hell. I gave Hideyoshi my best scornful look. “If you’re not convinced, I can prove it in your dojo or on your archery grounds.” I could prove it here and now, but I sensed that Hideyoshi had a low tolerance for sharp objects too close to Nobunaga. Speaking of… he hadn’t said a word yet either for or against my participation. I glanced over to see if I could glean what he made of all this.

Although one of his hands was playing with Mai’s hair, he was obviously paying attention to and amused by the whole scene playing out before him. “No need for that, Katsuko. The task is to pretend to be the fiancée of one of Hideyoshi’s vassals. The only danger, and the only reason we hoped for a boy is that women have a habit of falling in love with him. Which would make our problem worse, not solve it.”

A boy might pose the same complications, but… details. “Why does he need a pretend fiancée?” If they had an incurable flirt on their hands, maybe they could just give him a good talking to?

“We’re,” Nobunaga gestured to himself, Hideyoshi, and Mai, “making a diplomatic visit to Kanamori Mozumi, a daimyo who has recently begun to mine silver in his territory, to discuss an alliance. As Genba castle is renowned for containing an expansive archive, I intend to bring our strategist along. However, Mozumi also has a seventeen-year-old daughter - Shohime, who visited here last summer, and … it appears our strategist left quite an impression on her.”

“According to my sources,” Mitsuhide added, “Mozumi has contracted a marriage between Shohime and a Daimyo from Tsuruga, and he would not be pleased if anything were to ruin his plans.”

“Understood. Tsuruga is on the coast, and Mozumi wants access to trade routes to export the silver to Korea and China. With income from the silver and alliance with you, Lord Nobunaga, Mozumi will triple his power and influence – as long as he can keep both the son-in-law and your alliance.” It also confirmed Aki’s take on the situation in Hida. Given the increasing demand for Japanese silver, and it was clear that Nobunaga would prefer to keep relations with Mozumi peaceful. Granted, with his armies and allies, he could also just take over Mozumi’s territory, but why waste the manpower and time if Mozumi was willing to treat with him?

My job, apparently, was to make sure that Hideyoshi’s vassal didn’t distract the Kanamori princess from her contracted fiancé.

“Yes, that’s an accurate summary of the issues involved.” Rather than sounding pleased at my knowledge, Hideyoshi continued to look skeptical. Maybe he wasn’t used to women having a grasp of politics?

“I get to make a wedding kimono?” Mai’s look of excitement could probably brighten a dark room.

“It won’t reach that point – Katsuko is simply a diversion. But...” Hideyoshi looked at me and heaved a pained sigh. “She needs clothing that would reflect positively on the Oda.”

She rubbed her hands together. “When do we start?” Ok, this girl really takes her sewing seriously.

Mitsuhide gestured toward the door. “Preferably last week, but since that’s not possible, now will be acceptable.”

Without another word, Mai jumped to her feet, grabbed my hand, and literally dragged me out before I realized I hadn’t even learned the name of my fake fiancée. I half turned back to ask, but Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide were already nose-to-nose in another argument. Eeek. Better to just let them wallow in their U.S.T.

Mai led me through the castle to a room filled with various fabrics, and what looked like multiple projects in progress. A couple nearly-finished kimonos were displayed on racks – lovely jewel-toned pieces with intricate patterns and embroidery. “Stand there, please.” She pointed to a box and took out a long string to measure me.

“Oh. Let me just get rid of-” I wiggled out of the leather corset-binder that was keeping me flat. “I won’t be sorry to put that away for a few weeks.”

“There’s got to be a better way.” Mai looked at the binder with disgust. The better way would have been my sports bra, but it died even before my still mourned hoodie. Unfortunately, it’s not like we had access to lycra here. “Do you have any preferences? Color? Style?” Mai went to a writing desk where there was a stack of paper and several different sized brushes.

Androgyny… but make it fashion.

“Something not terribly restrictive. And. Not pink.” I shot a look at a turquoise kimono on display – that one was more or less to my taste.

“I must overrule that.” Mitsuhide stood in the doorway flanked by Hideyoshi. Apparently, they kissed and made up. “Soft pastels – including pink.”

“Pink is certainly appropriate,” Hideyoshi agreed.

Great. Now they agree.

Mai quickly wrapped a yukata around me. She pointed to the men in the doorway. “Out!”

Right. I wasn’t very well dressed. It’s not that I have no modesty… more that neither of them were looking at me as if I were an object of desire, but rather a tool to be sharpened and polished. Ignoring her, Mitsuhide undid my braid.

He visibly flinched at my hair.

Hideyoshi actually recoiled.

Yeah, it’s not in any particular style and there are pieces that are much shorter than the rest, causing it to stick out in chunks everywhere.

“What happened? Were you in a fire?” Kyubei had joined us and looked at my hair with fascinated revulsion.

“Fume did it.” And then I tried to fix it with my dagger.

Hideyoshi turned to Mai. “We’re going to need more maids.”

Cue Jaws theme in head.

After that, the afternoon passed in a blur of discussions, haircut, fittings, hand cream, face cream, cream cream and…

Help, I’m trapped in a makeover montage!

By the end of the ordeal, I was buffed and shined and primped and folded, spindled and mutilated until I didn’t recognize my reflection in the mirror that Mai had unearthed. I’d taken on plenty of identities over the past seven years, but this one seemed even further away from Katsuko than my old man disguise.

Also… I had zero likelihood of being able to replicate this complicated hairstyle on my own.

Mai adjusted one of the folds on the kimono – one of her own that she was loaning to me until she and her team could finish my – for want of a better word- trousseau. Then she turned me around to face the men who were judging my transformation.

Category is: Sengoku Princess Excellence.

“I’m ashamed to admit I never realized you were a girl.” Kyubei bowed to the new me.

“Thank you.” That was a nice compliment on both levels. “I’m sorry I teased you about the mountain path.”

“An improvement.” Only the most charitable would call Mitsuhide’s expression a smile. Smirk. He smirked. “One would hope you can manage to also behave demurely and gracefully, Okatsu.”

‘Okatsu?’ Hm, alright. Disguises were always easier when I thought of myself as a new person. And ‘Katsuko,’ as Fume had stated repeatedly, was not a common name here. As for demure and graceful… well the first three responses I thought of were neither demure, nor graceful, so I settled for a faint smile, downcast eyes, and plans to get even with Mitsuhide later.

Apparently though, Mitsuhide’s not so subtle jab earned me sympathy points from Hideyoshi… which might have been his objective after all? If so, well played, sir. “You look lovely, Okatsu, and I am sure your manners are acceptable.”

There wasn’t much I could add to that, so I simply gave Hideyoshi another appropriately demure smile, while I crossed my fingers behind my back that I could remember everything about protocol that Aki had tried to teach me. When all else fails, smile and nod.

Anyway, I supposed I was ready to meet my so-called fiancé. Who was… where was he anyway? Maybe he was hiding? “Er, this man I’m pretending to be engaged to… he is ok with this, right?”

Mitsuhide and Hideyoshi looked at each other. Silently. Possibly communicating telepathically.

Well, that wasn’t a good sign.

“He does, at least know about this?” I had no doubts that I could squash the overtures of an unrepentant flirt, or, even have a bit of fun with one if I were in the right frame of mind – but it would be easier if he had at least agreed to this plan before I was foisted upon him.

“Did you?” Mitsuhide asked Hideyoshi.

“Of course I did!” In his annoyance Hideyoshi looked like a puffer fish, trying to make himself look bigger to broadcast his defense. “I informed him last night. I believe he heard me.” Then, more softly. “Hopefully, he’ll remember.”

After this ominous tidbit, Mitsuhide said with obviously false cheer, “Of course he will remember. I’m certain he’s looking forward to meeting Okatsu.”

The looks on everyone’s faces ranged from disbelief (Kyubei) to outright worry (Hideyoshi)… well, Mai, at least seemed convinced as she fanned her wet eyes and let out a happy sob. “I love weddings.”

Hm. Against all current evidence, I trusted Mitsuhide. Alright, I didn’t trust him specifically, but from everything Aki and Kyubei had ever told me about him, I trusted that Mitsuhide knew what he was doing. But I wasn’t sure that he cared as much about the people enmeshed in his schemes as he cared about the schemes themselves. Probably this plan would work, but it wasn’t likely to be easy.

But hopefully, a nice quiet meeting between myself and Faux Fiance would clear up any confusion and allow us to figure out how to play thi-

“Well, shall we join them in the meeting hall, where Masamune has prepared a meal in honor of your engagement celebration?” Mitsuhide bowed and gestured us to the door.

Celebration? Just how many people will be witnessing my first meeting with… and what the heck was this man’s name anyway?

@lorei-writes @lyds323 @bestbryn @katriniac @briars7

[weavingstarlight]

JULY LU WRITE-A-THON

The July LU 24-Hour Write-A-Thon is over! This was my first-ever write-a-thon, and I’m really happy to have participated. I met lots of cool people, had tons of fun, and of course I wrote a whole bunch! (Naturally, I didn’t get as much done as I had hoped, but c’est la vie! When does art ever go exactly the way we plan?)

Thank you so much to the event organizers (@not-freyja and @hotcheetohatredwastaken , you're both amazing!), to the mods, and to everyone who participated for making this a great event! I’m sure the next one will be even better, and I will definitely be participating.

For this event, I decided to work on a one-shot idea that’s been kicking around in my head. It’s not done, by any means — I think I got about halfway through during the allotted time? So you’ll have to just wait a little longer to see the full thing. In the meantime, here’s a teaser under the cut ~

Link trudged up the slope behind Woodland Stable, their eyes fixed on the hillside rising out of the trees all around them. Behind them, the soft rattle and clank of Beedle’s traveling kit provided a rhythmic counterpoint to the melodic whinnies of horses and the musical voices of the hylian stable-folk. As Link made their way along the beaten-down dirt path, the sounds of civilization gave way to the lively hush of the forest — restless crickets, tittering birdsong, the soft cry of a fox in the distance.

At the top of the hill, barely visible above the trees, was another one of the Sheikah Towers. It stabbed the clouds above like a fiery blade, burning orange and gold at its core, a candle glowing in the wan late-afternoon light.

And between Link and the Tower, hidden from sight now but known by report and by the subtle scent of woodsmoke on the breeze — the old military training camp, according to the stable-folk, long abandoned by hylians and their allies, now inhabited only by bokoblins and their ilk.

[frickatives]

[teaser] against better judgement [f!reader bounty hunter x mando]

[read on AO3] [masterlist] [next chapter]

[a/n] HI HELLO I've had this enemies-to-lovers fic idea rattling around in my brain for a year or so, and I decided I'm going to put it out into the world! I've had so much fun reading everyone's Mando fics over the years, and I'd love to be more active in the community. Setting is post-season-2, and will deviate wildly from canon from there. I'm planning to have the first chapter ready to go (hopefully) next Monday (8/14), but until then I wanted to get the first snippet out into the world to get more comfortable sharing my writing after not doing so for... at least a decade, whoops. I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND I HOPE YOUR WEEK IS FULL OF DELIGHT ❤️❤️❤️

[warnings/tags] canon typical violence, gore (? light body horror??), mentions of death and injury, thirst for sweet vengeance, fem!reader, no use of y/n, the slowest burn, enemies to lovers, bounty hunter reader, comically hostile workplace

[wc] ~700, just a lil' preview/intro

You crouch down behind the rock, not believing your eyes.

They have to be wrong. Misinformed. You must be imagining things, because you think you're seeing an all-too-familiar quicksilver jackass creeping up on your bounty, and that simply isn't possible. 

You look again. Quadruple checking. 

Sure enough, it's him. He's kneeling by the entrance to the bunker, tracking fob in hand. You'd know that ridiculous helmet anywhere.

Rage boils over in your gut, so fast that it physically cramps something. You knew that the kriffing Guild– that kriffing Karga offered to keep the sentient trash chute on as a hunter, even after what he did to them – to you – on Nevarro, but being confronted by it makes you break into a cold sweat. You'd heard he'd turned the Guild down, but the very real hunter taking a few paces away from the bunker's hatch says otherwise. 

The scar that bisects your chest and abdomen aches and tightens. Your hand settles over it, out of habit.

He blows the bunker door open with a charge. 

The sound echoes, ricocheting across the barren, rocky surface of the valley, bouncing up the stony hillsides around you. You flinch. You've been on edge this whole damn time, even before that bastard showed up – you don't like being forced to take the low ground. It feels too much like begging to get shot. 

Your armor scrapes against stone, and you duck down as quickly as you can in case he's heard – it's unlikely, over the sound of the blast, but you remember what it was like to be hunted down by those Mandalorians on Nevarro. 

Their reflexes were preternatural. 

You remember waking to the sound of a gunfight outside, and rushing out of the hostel with your sidearm in-hand, and stepping into a street overflowing with chaos and screaming. You didn't know what was happening. It seemed like nobody did.

You saw Guild hunters, a few you recognized from Karga's place, taking aim at the sky. 

You remember looking up, too, and then fighting for your life against a small army of Mandalorians. You had no idea where they'd come from, why they were attacking the city, but you knew the men from the Guild and you didn't want to see them killed. 

You fought for what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes, until you were cornered in an alley by a big brute with a wicked curved blade of mirror-polished beskar.

You remember being cut open. Filleted. One powerful swipe of that blade, one bad misstep of your own treacherous feet. You remember the feeling of parts of you shifting – slipping around inside, spilling out, moving to places they didn't belong. That sensation haunts you, yanks you out of sleep by your throat some nights, even now, even months and months later. 

You remember the indignation. The wrath. How dare they do this to you? How dare they kill you here, like this?

But they hadn't. You'd woken up a few days later in a half-rate bacta tank, and you'd heard the story of the siege on Nevarro. 

Heard that it was his fault. That loner Mandalorian, freshly kitted out in head-to-toe beskar, who never so much as had a conversation with any of you before he decided to sic his underground militia on you all.

You ought to be afraid, you think. This ought to be grounds for scrapping this whole job. Any reasonable person would turn tail, run back to the shuttle depot, and catch the fastest ride off this rock, rather than risk a repeat-filleting.

You've never been a reasonable person.

You're too focused on the astronomical odds of the situation: him, here, unaware of your presence; you, alive, armed, angry, and poised to do something about it, after all this time. The opportunity for vengeance is too sweet, too ripe. It's like the universe is placing it in your palm, wrapping your fingers around it with her gentle, generous hands. Whispering for you to just take it. 

Tucked into your hiding spot behind the rock, millions of clicks from Nevarro, resolve settles like a brick in your stomach. 

You're going to kill the Mandalorian.

[continue to chapter 1]

[pedropascallme]

omg hi!! idk if ur taking requests currently, but i would ADOOOREEE if u wrote something for Jim from 28 Days Later!!! literally anything i’m so starved lmfao.

Makes Two of Us

Pairing: Jim x gn!Reader

Summary: "You woke with a start, clinging to the pillow under your head. You were sweating, made more apparent by the cool breeze drifting through the window that raised goosebumps on your arms. Sitting up, clutching the sheet closer to you, you looked at the corner of the room."

Warnings: Canon typical violence, otherwise none :)

AN: I BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!!!!!!!!!!! In all honesty I'm not super proud of this one, but I promise more Jim content in the future, especially now that I know I have an audience for it <3

The cabin was dark, and cramped didn’t even begin to describe it. It was falling apart and smelled of mildew, and overgrown weeds had begun to peek through the rocks of the foundations. Still, it was, in your eyes, a fortress of sorts. It was a way to alleviate the feeling of constantly looking over your shoulder and covering any skin that might be easily torn apart by an infected neighbor who once would have knocked on your door to ask for a cup of sugar. There wasn’t a soul for miles here—neither living nor half-living.

Nevertheless, despite your body’s ease, your brain continued to harass you with images of bloodied priests and the ruins of the town you once called home. You woke with a start, clinging to the pillow under your head. You were sweating, made more apparent by the cool breeze drifting through the window that raised goosebumps on your arms. Sitting up, clutching the sheet closer to you, you looked at the corner of the room. There was a rifle propped up against the wall, a pack of cigarettes, still unopened by the previous owner, situated underneath it. You hadn’t opened them, you felt it would be unfair to the original buyer. You didn’t even know if the gun worked, if it was loaded or not, but its presence was soothing. A tool for the ‘just in case.’

“Why’re you awake?” You looked away from the rifle, turning your attention toward the source of the question. Jim still lay next to you, blanket draped loosely over his body as he looked up at you.

“I woke you.”

“I have a bullet hole in my stomach,” he smirked, “doesn’t take much to rouse me.” Jim sat up hesitantly, the wound in his abdomen still fresh and wrapped. “Why are you up?” He repeated.

You rolled your eyes at the question, feeling as though the answer was more than obvious.

“Oh, just figured I’d enjoy the countryside. Maybe take in the night life of the village.” You deadpanned.

“Nightmare, then?”

“Mm.”

“What about?”

“Can’t remember.” You lied. Jim looked at you as if he knew you were holding back, but he didn’t call you out on it.

You leaned yourself into him, resting your head on his chest, careful to keep pressure off of his stomach.

“I’m not made of glass.” Jim pulled you in closer, letting you rest your full weight on him. He tried to hide the grimace he wore when your elbow brushed his bandages.

“Could’ve fooled me.” You brought a hand to his jaw, stroking his cheek in an attempt to soothe yourself. You sat there like that, ruminating in the quiet. “'m so glad you’re alive.” Was the only thing you could manage to whisper out after a few moments. Jim took your hand off his face.

“Makes two of us.” He kissed your palm. “For the record, I’m glad you’re alive.”

“Makes two of us.” You repeated back to him, and suddenly you were crying. You felt your back heaving against Jim’s chest as you choked on sobs. It was the first time in recent memory you had managed to cry. You’d seen Jim do it, seen Hannah do it, and this whole time you had felt it was your job to be their rock; you needed to be a support system, and to you that meant burying any of your own fear to guide them through theirs. But now what? Now you were safe in a cottage by the hillside. Now Hannah was asleep in the next room under a quilt. Now Jim was patched up and holding you while you wept. What was your job now?

“S’alright,” you heard Jim whispering, “won’t let anything happen.” And for a moment you felt close to disgusted with yourself for needing comfort, feeling as though the roles should be reversed: the man cooing in your ear should be the one in need, not you. Further, you felt the absurdity of having a man who had quite literally been brought back from the dead tell you everything would be fine. But then you felt his lips brush your shoulder, and he moved your hair off of your tear-stained neck to place kisses there, too. And you didn’t really care what your purpose was or that you’d just endured Armageddon. Jim was right, you were alive. And you meant it when you’d expressed the mutual satisfaction with it.

“Breathe.” He spoke into your skin, and maybe someday you’d tell him you didn’t even have the chance to cry when he got shot, that all you could do was scream that same word over, and over, and over again. But not now. Now you took shaky breaths in his arms, eyes closed and all at once grateful, and finding humor in everything; all it took to find the man of your dreams and experience the country getaway you’d always wanted was the end of the world. Not something you’d seen coming, but not something you could regret entirely, either.

You found a rhythm to your breathing, eyes stinging from the tears you’d shed. You inhaled the scents around you—mostly Jim. He smelled like grass and name-brand soap and canned peaches and medical supplies.

“What’ll we do now?” You wiped the remaining moisture off your face, still somewhat miffed that you were still kicking.

“What won’t we do?” A playfully devious look drawn on his face. He hadn’t thought much about any sort of future before meeting you, and now that he knew he had one, he took any opportunity to daydream about it.

He pulled you further into his lap, letting you straddle him. You moved to kiss him. He held the back of your head to steady the both of you, licking into you, your breath now shaky for a much more pleasurable reason.

“We’ll go everywhere. We’ll do all of it.” He promised, forehead against yours. You could feel his pulse—he had been right: his heartbeat was much faster than you had been with a machete.

“Together?”

“Yeah. Obviously.” He made a face to emphasize how ridiculous he thought your question was, as if there was any way that the two of you wouldn’t be joined at the hip once you relocated. You kissed him across the face, now much less rattled and somewhat sleepy. You settled your head on him once more, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

“You think you’ll be able to get back to sleep?”

“I think so.” You had no doubt in your mind that you’d be asleep in minutes like this. You tried not to speak anymore, waiting for sleep to come to you, and not wanting to disturb Jim any more than you felt you already had tonight. Still, the words came out on their own. “I love you.” It felt right to say, although you thought, momentarily, that there was a chance it was too soon—but was there really any such thing as “too soon” anymore? Now was as good a time as any. You felt a hand drape over your bicep and squeeze, and Jim kissed your head.

“I love you.” He repeated the words to you. “I love you, and I love being alive with you." You soaked up his response, feeling at peace for the first time in a long, long time. He pointed upwards to the window, "And I love those ugly little drapes." Now he was just trying to make you smile, ridding the room of any leftover tension there may have been. It worked.

“Don’t get used to them,” your lips grazed his chin, “I’m adding them to the sewing pile tomorrow.”

“Of course, you are.” Jim feigned shock. “Better get to sleep then.”

[alterchaos]

A HEART OF GOLD

A birthday party, an unlikely duo, and the search for the perfect gift! Can the two fastest beings in the universe make up their minds and make it on time? Perhaps the greatest gift of all is the memories we hold close in our hearts…

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: REGRET

NEXT CHAPTER: THE PERFECT DAY

Blades of grass danced gently in the hillside’s warm, late-spring breeze. The brilliant afternoon sun beamed down from above, inviting the scenery’s vibrant hue to awaken and share their artistry with the rest of the world. Flickies filled the air with their sweet, happy melody as peace continued to reign over Mobius, the incident with the Black Arms all but a distant and fading memory.

Shoom!

Shoom!

The grass stirred from the sudden gale, yet quietly returned to their gentle dance.

The flickies glanced at the streak of cyan now lining the hillside, yet they continued their peaceful tune without any worries or qualms.

Shoom!

He was known by many names: The Galactic Hero, The Hero of Mobius, The Fastest Being in the Universe, The Blue Blur…

But his closest friends called him by only one.

“Watch where you’re going, Faker!”

CRASH!!

The ‘Faker’ in question popped back onto his feet, rubbing the now sore spot on his head where he’d collided with the young, incredibly moody and admittedly just as fast, hedgehog, “Why don’t YOU watch where YOU’RE going!” He shook his head, “Grr! Look! I don’t have time for this Shadow! I’m gonna be late and I still haven’t found the perfect g-AH!”

His younger, arguably equally as powerful, counterpart had taken a swing at him. Sonic dogged, quickly shoving his arm to the other’s forehead, stopping the smaller hedgehog in his tracks while crossing his legs and comically looking down at his free hand as if to admire some nonexistent nail polish, “You done yet, kid? I don’t have all day.”

“Grrrr! Don’t call me ‘kid’!!! I’m 50 years older than you, you know!!”

“Taking a few long naps doesn’t count, kid. I still have five years of life experience over you.”

Shadow huffed in defeat and jumped back, relenting his futile position, “Where are you off to in such a hurry anyway?”

“I could ask you the same thing? You crashed into me too, you know?”

Shadow immediately jumped on the defensive, “I don’t have to answer that!”

Sonic held up his arms in surrender, “Okay. Okay. Sheesh!” He paused for a moment before continuing.

Sonic rubbed the back of his head nervously, “Well…today is Eve’s 16th birthday and…admittedly, I…haven’t found her the right gift yet…heh heh…” There was a moment of pause as his lack of a proper gift weighed on him, “She’s one of my best friends so…”

The younger hedgehog scoffed and flashed his older counterpart a cocky grin, “That’s pretty bad, Faker.”

A serious and stern expression crossed the Blue Blur’s face, “Not as bad as forgetting her birthday altogether. Am I right, Shadow?”

Shadow looked genuinely shocked, then jumped into a defensive stance once more, “I didn’t forget!! I…just…” He averted his gaze.

Sonic cocked his head in confusion for a moment before the realization of the kid’s situation hit him full force. A teasing and mischievous grin spread across his muzzle, threatening to consume his whole face if only he could let it.

“You can’t find her a gift either, can you?”

“…No.”

The hedgehog’s ebony hue turned almost as red as the stripes on his quills.

Sonic zipped in front of Shadow’s view, “Well then, why don’t we team up? We can find a couple of presents and head to the party together!”

Sonic gently nudged Shadow with a comical and teasing gesture, “C’mooooon! I’ll be fuuuunnn….”

Shadow turned away.

Shadow continued to look away before eventually offering a solution, “…Rouge has a lot of…’spare jewelry’…that we can look through…”

Sonic shot a suspicious glance at the mention of the supposedly ‘spare jewelry’. Knowing Rouge, they were most definitely priceless artifacts she’d snagged over the years. Also knowing Rouge, most of them had to have come from her hot-headed boyfriend up in the sky. Although Sonic couldn’t argue: the two of them did make for a surprisingly functional and cute couple.

With that, the two supersonic heroes raced through the hills, taking caution to not disrupt the flow of nature with any accidental speed boosts as they hurried to their—hopefully present-filled—destination. Though neither wanted to admit it to the other, neither would settle for some random, trivial gift. It had to be special. It had to have meaning. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a gift worth giving in the first place.

“Follow me.”

Within minutes, the two had arrived at a small, white, domed-shaped house close to the town Sonic and his closest friends frequented when searching for ingredients for Amy’s latest dish, selling parts and services to maintain his little brother’s workshop, or hosting a party like the one today for his dear friend who, at one point not all that long ago, had struggled to find her place as the only human among a world of Mobians…besides Eggman that is. Now, just over a year later, she was known and loved by many, always excited to visit town and see how everyone is doing; listening to their stories from over the years; entertaining the children with her music, games, and creativity; exploring and helping folks with the most menial tasks…

“Faker! Quit daydreaming! We’re here.”

She’d made a home for herself here and Sonic was happy for her.

Shadow reached inside his one sock, producing a small key. He inserted it into the door’s lock and turned the knob with a sharp ‘click’. He gently pushed open the door, which creaked slightly on its hinges. Sonic noticed the Ultimate Life Form’s tense demeanor practically melt away as he slid off his shoes on the heart-shaped mat at his feet. The blue hero followed suit, not wanting to disrespect the kid’s home, which Sonic took in with awe. Gentle beams of sunlight illuminated each room through pink-tinted curtains. A large, black sofa sat center in the living room, which led off seamlessly into a neighboring kitchen. Sonic was surprised to see a small flight of stairs near the front door leading to an upper story, given the small outward appearance of the house. Everything from the art, to the wall color, to the carpet, to the flowers and the vases: they were all either white, pink, or black.

And honestly, the aesthetic worked surprisingly well, giving the entire house a quiet, cozy atmosphere.

Sonic whistled, “I knew Rouge took you in after the whole ‘Metal Overlord’ incident, but I never expected…this. I’ve gotta hand it to you: this is a pretty nice place you’ve got here, Shadz!”

Shadow stiffened, whipping his head around, “DON’T call me that!!” Then he added under his breath, “Faker…”

“What was that?” Sonic asked smugly, having heard that last comment clear as day.

“Nothing! Look, just…pick something you like and get out! I have to figure out my present and get going.” He stormed upstairs.

Sonic rolled his eyes. He spotted a nearby jewelry dish and began making his way over, hoping to find something of note, “Sheesh! Wouldn’t kill you to show some hospitality you grumpy little-“

He paused, something near the sofa catching a ray of sunlight and reflecting a glittering gold light into his eye. He flinched at the sudden reflection but slowly made his way over to the object, picking it up to get a better look.

In his hand was a small, golden locket in the shape of a heart.

Curiosity got the better of him and Sonic popped the locket open, only to find that it was empty. There were no pictures. Just a shining, golden backdrop ready to be filled with the precious memories of its next wearer.

Sonic beamed, “Oh! Wow! Hey, this’ll be perfect!” He called out, turning back towards the front door, “Alright, Shadow! I’m ready to g-!”

“Give me that locket.”

His eyes met flaming-red irises, staring intensely at the locket he held in his hand.

“Huh!? No way! You said ‘pick something you like and get out’, so I did and I am!” Sonic began to walk towards his shoes before being interrupted by a sudden swipe at his hand. He dodged it, pulling his hand back defensively, taking care not to bump into any furniture.

“I want to give it to her!”

Shadow swiped again. Sonic dodged.

“Pick.”

Again, he swiped. Again, Sonic dodged.

“Something.”

“ELSE!”

Another swipe. Another dodge.

Sonic jumped up, gracefully landing on the backboard of the sofa where he now perched, clearly having the advantage, “Dude, what’s your deal!?”

Shadow rammed into the sofa with full force, “YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND!!!”

Sonic jumped down and grabbed the sofa with his free hand, restoring it to its original position, “Then HELP me understand! WHY is this so important to you!?”

“BECAUSE IT WAS MARIA’S!!!”

Both of them froze stiff, staring at the other hedgehog in shock. The two of them stayed like that for a moment, the tension in the air now gone, replaced with a quiet sadness. Sonic’s face grew concerned and sympathetic. He tried to find the words, but they caught in his throat, “I-I…” He didn’t know what to say.

Shadow sighed. He knew better from his recent adventures than to keep pushing everyone away with his anger. There was no way that blue idiot could have known unless he told him. He looked down and closed his eyes thoughtfully.

“Maria…she loved to read books and gain all the knowledge of the planet below. Pa-Professor Gerald built her a library on the Ark filled to the brim with them. There was knowledge, love, and care practically spilling out of that room. It was Maria’s favorite place to be and then, after I was born and found my way into her life…as a genuine member of the Robotnik family…it became my favorite place too. We would spend hours in there, day after day, week after week, year after year, her reading me all of her favorite books and teaching me everything she knew from the flora and fauna to the humans’ customs and tall tales.” Shadow smiled, letting out a small chuckle, “She even taught me how to read, you know. Every time I pick up a book, it’s like she’s still here with me…hugging me tight and telling me that it’s all going to be okay…” He snapped out of his trance for a moment, noticing the blue blur and looking away quickly in embarrassment, “A-Anyway, one year we were looking through a book on earthly fashion and costumes and she spotted a picture of that very locket. When I saw her eyes light up, well…I asked the professor if he could procure it, given his ties to the planet below and…G.U.N…” Shadow had to pause for a moment, “He taught me what a ‘gift’ truly meant and I’ll never forget how happy Maria was when I handed it to her. She told me it was ‘the best gift she had ever received’. We never did get our picture taken. It wasn’t all that long…before…” He didn’t dare finish that statement and he didn’t have to.

Sonic knew what he meant.

“I found it…her locket…still on the Ark all these years later…I was going to hold onto it, to keep it for myself, but…Eve she’s…she’s…just like her…and I…I wanted to…” He turned away quickly. The last thing he wanted was for his #1 rival to see him cry. He hadn’t meant to pour out his heart like that, but once the memories started flowing, he just couldn’t stop himself. He liked remembering Maria. He wanted to remember Maria…especially the good times they shared together all those years ago.

“Shadow…” Without any hesitation, he held out his hand to the dark hedgehog, “Here. You give it to her. It belongs to you.”

Shadow turned around, a stunned expression lining his tearful eyes, “I…” He took the locket and smiled, “Thank you, Sonic.”

Sonic smiled back, placing his hands behind his head as if resting on them, “Heh heh! Don’t mention it!”

Sonic shrugged, heading towards the front door, “Eh…I’m pretty fast when it comes to thinking on my feet.” He slipped on his shoes and tapped a foot behind him before throwing a wink at Shadow, “See you at the party, Shadz!”

Another moment passed, then Shadow looked at Sonic with concern,

“Wait…what about you?”

Shoom!

“HAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!”

“Wha-! I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT, FAKER!!!!!!”

Meanwhile, in the heart of the nearby town, the party was well underway. The birthday girl was playing tea party with Cream, Cheese, Rouge, and a nervous Knucklehead who was toeing the line between pretending to sip tea and wondering if the others were simply pulling a prank on him to keep the tea for themselves. The Chaotix were providing a fun and jazzy ambience to the scene with Vector on the piano, Espio on the saxophone, and Charmy hitting a small triangle above their heads. Vanilla was running the cake and snacks, often catching little winks from the large crocodile on stage and responding in like.

“Hmm…No sign of him yet…”

Tails and Amy, on the other hand, were not having as much fun.

Amy was tapping her foot impatiently. How dare their—supposedly—quick friend ruin the party she’d planned to perfection. He was the fastest being in the known universe. How was he THIS late?

“Oh Sonic’s going to get an EARFUL from me for taking so long…” Her wrist cuffs began to glow, “AND a taste of my Piko Piko hamme-!!”

“That won’t be necessary. He is on his way now.”

“SHADOW!?”

Amy and Tails turned to acknowledge the sudden voice behind them.

Eve hopped up excitedly and ran over to greet her new guest, “Ahh! You actually came!” Despite any past misgivings, he was her friend now and she was excited to see him starting to let himself be included in events like this.

Shadow’s face turned red like the stripes on his quills as he mustered his courage, swiftly holding out his gift to her without so much as a returned greeting, “Here! I-I hope you like it!”

Eve giggled to herself at the hedgehog’s awkwardness but soon stared in awe at the golden locket dangling from his hands, “Oh, Shadow!” She gently took hold of it and placed it around her neck, “I love it so much! I’ll never take it off for as long as I live!” She beamed, holding the golden heart tightly in her hands.

Shadow stared for a moment, remembering Maria’s words to him those many, many years ago. He smiled brightly, “I’m happy!”

Rouge looked on from the distance with a knowing smile. That was all she ever wanted to hear from the young hedgehog.

“And here’s MY present!” The Blue Blur gave an exaggerated bow as he made his swift and dramatic entrance.

Shoom!

“Wha-! How long were you waiting to do that!?” Shadow stammered all flustered. How long had that blue idiot been watching him?

“Long enough. Heh heh!” Sonic whipped out a small camera he snagged from Tails’ workshop, “C’mon, everybody! No time to lose!” He motioned to everyone to join.

Shadow smiled.

“Everybody say, ‘CHAO’!!”

Click.

“CHAAAOOOOO!!!”

CHAPTER END.

(chapters are not posted in the order they were created)

(creator’s note: this art piece is brand new and was specially made to go with this tumblr post despite the chapter being written months ago, I just never got around to making it until now, thanks for the motivation and I hope you enjoyed!)

[foolofatook001]

Faerie Fort Week Day Four -- Wings

The Start of All Things

"I'm sorry if this is a little, er— forward," Ren begins, almost entirely out of the blue. "But I had a question." Lizzie shifts so she can side-eye him, wary of the next thing that's going to come out of his mouth. She's terribly fond of her knight, but he does have a way with words— and it's not a good way, either. 

"Go on," she says slowly. 

"Well, it's just. Erm. Your wings," he says, ducking his head a little and gesturing to where her golden wings are spread behind her, soaking in the setting sun from the top of the Shadow Tower. "D'you ever— y'know. Use them? Because I've just noticed, I mean, that you don't do a whole lot of flying anywhere or anything. And so, I wondered. I mean, is something wrong? Are you all right, my lady? It's not an injury or anything, right—"

"Ren," Lizzie interrupts, before he can dig his hole any deeper. "I'm fine. I'm not injured. This arena just limits flight, is all. Grian's got wings, too, and he can't use them to do more than hop around, same as me."

"Oh. Oh, I see. I suppose that makes sense, fairness and all." He smiles wryly, then takes another long look at her wings. "It's just a shame, I suppose. I think you'd look terrifying if you could use them. Imagine if you went red. You'd be the Avenging Shadow Angel. You'd be tellin' everyone Fear Not all the time, if you know what I'm sayin'."

Lizzie laughs. "And then my wings would be everyone's first target," she points out. "I'm perfectly all right not being able to fly here. I'd rather everyone underestimate me."

Ren hums in agreement, and lets the subject go. 

-o0o--o0o--o0o--o0o--o0o--o0o--o0o--o0o--o0o--o0o--o0o-

"Just give up, Ren! Die already!" Scott shouts from the hillside above, but Ren ignores him, charging forward. His vision is spotty, both from pain and from the multicolored potion bubbles that swirl around him— Scott is relying heavily on magic and it's taking all of Ren's concentration just to try and power through it. His blows are only half as effective, he realizes (that axe strike should have shattered Scott's shield, but it only glanced off), and he is much slower than he should be. A broken arrow dangles from his leg, its head still buried in his thigh; another hits him now as he surges up the hill, landing in the gap between his chestplate and spaulder, just below his collarbone. The impact knocks him back, but he grits his teeth and keeps going. What is another arrow, if he can win this game? What is a little pain, if he can be the last one standing? 

A third arrow hits him, this time in the opposite shoulder. Ren snarls, tasting blood, as he is knocked back down the hill yet again. 

Slowly, laboriously, he gets to his feet, leaning on his sword. He lifts it—

And another arrow, alight with enchanted flame, flies directly into his chestplate and shatters it, driving through his chest. 

He hears Scott cheering as he collapses; finally, an injury he cannot push through. As his vision fades, he begins to see the hovering ghosts of all the other players, crowding around the site of the last battle. And there, directly above him, is Lizzie, her wings spread in their full glory, reaching out to him.

"Ah, my lady," he says, the words barely a rasp. "Just like an angel, didn't I say?" And his own spirit lifts out of his cooling corpse, and takes her hand. 

(also on ao3) (prompt post)

[lobstermobster-95]

Wanderer’s Rest

Read the full fic now on Ao3

It had been an uncharacteristically peaceful first day’s travel toward Xadia. The weather had been fair, they’d kept up a steady stream of pleasant conversation and – Callum had to hand it to Barius – they’d started things off with a satisfying breakfast.

It had all put Callum into an inexorably good mood.

After all, there was an undeniably strong air of sentimentality surrounding this trip. He and Rayla were retracing those first life-altering, world-saving steps they’d taken together two years ago.

To say they had been through a lot in those years was a comically gross understatement, especially since she’d come back. There had been more days than not that Callum had thought their relationship beyond saving. He’d been too broken, too fundamentally shattered by her abandonment to ever consider letting her back into his heart.

Then, there’d been Umber Tor, and the thought of Rayla dying before he ever got the chance to laugh with her again, or make her smile and roll her eyes at him again, to tell her he loved her again; it had set the flame in his chest alight once more.

So ever since then, they’d been working on it. Slowly, over several days, they began to talk – really talk – about the whole thing. It had been liberating for Callum to finally unload the crushing weight her departure had left him with, and Rayla listened. Then, when it was her turn, she’d given him two things: the first being an apology that had left them both crying openly while they laid side-by-side on the stone floor of Callum’s room; and the other had been a solemn vow to never cause him that much pain again.

They weren’t back to where they’d left off that night at the moon nexus, but they felt like…friends again, and Callum was ecstatic.

“We covered a lot of distance today,” Rayla said to him in a familiar tone that again reminded him of their first journey. That was her “Nighttime Rayla” voice. He’d heard it many times directed toward him and Ezran to let them know it was time to bunk down for the night.

“Time to rest, so we can do it all over again tomorrow,” she continued, making Callum smile.

Some things didn’t change.

But one thing that had certainly changed since the last time they’d made this trip was the status of the border. The scar Viren had left behind at the Breech had had unexpected diplomatic side effects. For the first time in a thousand years, there was a bridge open between Xadia and the human kingdoms. While it was still tentative and mostly discrete, this had opened the door to travel between the two lands.

That increase in travel had subsequently led to a greater demand for lodging along major travel routes, like the one they just so happened to be using, and Callum hoped what was ahead would be a welcomed surprise.

“Right,” he answered. “But why sleep in the grass, when we could sleep in class?” He raised his arms in coy emphasis.

Rayla responded with a curious quirk of her brow and Callum’s smile grew. “There’s a nice cozy inn just ahead,” he gestured up the road and Rayla’s eyes followed.

Together they spotted the Wanderer’s Rest Inn – a cottage that looked like it must have been lifted from the dictionary beneath the very word “cozy.” Its façade was crisscrossed by widely spaced wood framing with little vines of ivy creeping up like ladders. The thatch roof was steep but sturdy and surrounded a large stone chimney. The cottage itself was nestled on a picturesque hillside that caught the warm orange light of the sunset perfectly.

[alias-milamber]

Today I completed a Blades in the Dark campaign

Lessons learned:

Blades in the Dark isn't great for a short story-focused campaign

BitD works well for a single-session or a long campaign with the territory/growth rules it defines, less well for short campaigns

Even when I think I'm making a short campaign, it might last a year.

Full improvisation is fun, but if you don't take notes you'll goozle yourself.

"Your Theorycrafting about the nature of the plot is entirely correct" is a vicious Devil's Bargain

As is "I'm not going to tell you, but it gets you two dice"

Write a vague prophetic dream, and use the details later to make them pay attention when you need to.

You can build an entire year long arc on the stupid pun "the bad guy is called Carson. He wants to turn everyone into crabs"

"He wants the whole world in his claws, the shellfish bastard"

A shop full of monkeys-paw magical artifacts that you improvise on the fly is like catnip to players.

Keep a list of random threads you haven't looped back to. Don't bother to check them off, things can mean two things.

If in doubt, add more cultists.

If in doubt, venetian masks.

If in doubt, add an NPC's mirror-verse twin.

"Everyone gets nightmares about being shelled and covered in Mary-rose sauce."

Three handouts:

A Dream Of Seafood

(after a player has eaten of the sacred flesh, disguised as a prawn vol-au-vent)

The world is cold and wet, and you like it that way. The sandy floor below you, the stars above, as it has always been and will always be. In the distance you hear the song of the leviathans, cutting through the ocean water like bagpipes over a mountain hillside. The words mean nothing to you, their song as alien as yours would be to them.

You do not sing your song, sound isn't what you're made for. You are, you see, you feed, you eat.

You obey.

The sandy floor rises up below you in ribbons - you never even process the net that has caught you. Your life flashes before your eyes, hits this moment, and goes beyond into the future.

You see the world above the ocean briefly, before darkness. The smell of wood and others for a long time, and a long descent into clean water. The water scalds and burns, and the life life leaves you, without your presence going with it.

You haunt the flesh of yourself as your shell is peeled back from you. A bath of pink sauce and a bed of puff pastry. Music, and strange people.

A mouth, and darkness.

And despair.

A Dream Of Shellfishness

(The first character to atune to a sacred artifact)

Within your dream you awake. You are underwater, and this seems oppressive and terrifying until you realise that you're breathing the water without difficulty, and then it just seems oppressive and differently terrifying. You breathe in brine, it fills your lungs and then you breathe out again, and beyond your initial panic, a deeper worry sets in.

You are surrounded by stars, refracted by a perfectly clear sea. Above and below you, constellations unrecognised, twinkling gently in the pitch black night. A moving black patch above you can only be a leviathan, its gigantic form gliding through the pitch black sea like a bird of prey. Behind it, the keel of a hunting ship disrupts the surface with its infernal motorised screw engine spinning to try to keep up, but the monstrous creature swims away with no apparent concern. Around you is a barnacle encrusted cage, glowing runes engraved on a wooden frame that you somehow know cannot be broken, even by you.

That's no mean feat, you discover, as a sense of scale kicks in and your perspective shifts. You realise that you could hold that leviathan in the palm of your hand, should you be able to break the cage that surrounds you. You beat against the bars soundlessly, unheard and imperceptable.

A voice, a sound like the antithesis of music, and you see one of the glowing runes go dark on your prison.

Vengeance will be won.

The Crab God's Shanty

(To the tune of the work song from Les Mis)

We sit, we row. Fourty fathoms low. We sail, wind blow, Forty Fathoms Low.

We load cargo, Forty fathoms low, We lift, we stow, Forty fathoms low

The stars, they glow, Forty fathoms low, The tide will flow, Forty fathoms low.

The deep, plateau, Forty fathoms low We see, he know Forty fathoms low.

The undertow, Forty fathoms low, Will make us go, Forty fathoms low

He speaks, bestow, Forty fathoms low, We feed, he grows, Forty fathoms low.

Our life, forgo, Forty fathoms low, The world will know, Thirty fathoms low.

Give up, let go, Twenty fathoms low, He rise shadow, Now ten fathoms low.

He rises slow, Just five fathoms low, Yo ho, heave ho. Claws at your ship bow.

[darkaviarymc]

The Evergreens Enfold the Shrine, A recursive fic of The Incandescence of a Dying Light by @quaranmine

Chapter 2

June 13th, 1995

-

The Owl Head Trail was a five mile side trail off of Pinnacles and connected to it at both ends. The intended start was by the parking lots at the start of the main trail and the end was just past the campgrounds.  There was no rule against going the opposite way, though, which is what Gem, Etho, and Beef did on that early Tuesday morning.  It was considered a intermediate level trail because of some falling hazards along the edge of the path, steep hillsides and even some sheer drops alond the edges of the path.  The trio no longer considered themselves novices, though, not after spending the past week exploring the first stretch of Pinnacles as well as a few novice level side trails.     

“Can’t believe our vacation will be pretty much over once we reach the end of this trail,” Gem said with a forlorn sigh.  “I miss it already.

“Well, my name’s on the rental car,” Beef said, “But feel free to stay the whole season if you can figure out your own ride to the airport.  I’ve got summer classes for my bachelors program starting in a week.”

Etho shook his head.  “Nah, Pause would kill me if I didn’t come home.  He was worried about me traveling all the way across the continent as it is.  You know how roommates are.”

“It’s too bad he couldn’t come,” Beef said.  “It sucks missing part of the team.”

“Yeah,” Etho agreed.  “It was just bad timing that the only week I could get away from work was the same week as the Iceberg Festival, and that’s like, a big cultural thing.  It wouldn’t have felt right to ask him to miss it.”

“That settles it then!” Gem declared and spun around, walking backward to face Beef and Etho while she talked.  “Next summer, I say we plan better.  Maybe pick a different campground and come earlier, that way Beef won’t have to worry about his summer classes and Pause can have two vacations.”

“Sounds great!” Beef agreed. 

“Turn around and walk straight, Gem,” Etho warned.  “You’ll fall down the hill and crack your head.  Don’t you remember the story you told last night?”

Gem rolled her eyes but did as she was told.

“You know,” Etho continued, “Pause says that someday the internet’s gonna take over the world.  You’ll be able to go to school, work, movie theaters, and all kinds of stuff all on the computer no matter where you are in the world.   Then you won’t have to worry about getting home for class, Beef.” 

Beef scoffed.  “In his dreams!  The internet’s full of nothin’ but dweebs and sex pests.”

“Excuse me!  I use the internet all the time!” Gem protested.

Beef laughed.  “Like I said.  Dweebs.” 

Gem playfully slapped Beef’s arm, and then noticed that Etho had stopped and was standing on the edge of a path looking at something off trail.

“What are you doing?” she stopped and asked.

“Did you see the ghost of mustaches past?” Beef asked as if he was asking a serious question.

“Not funny, Beef,” Etho replied.  “I did see a sialia currucoides, though.  Or at least I thought I did.”

Gem cocked her head.  "A what?"

Etho didn't answer.  He instead simply reached into his vest pocket and pulled out his binoculars.  He adjusted the focus as he looked through them, trying to find the best setting with which to search for he bird he thought he'd seen.

"I thought you wanted to hurry so you could get to the library and make good on your bet with Gem?" Beef said.

"Yeah, but the whole point of taking this detour to the car was to see the sights one more time, right?" Etho answered, not lowering his binoculars.  "I've always wanted to see one of these in the wild.  Their populations have been steadily declining over the past twenty years, you know."  He stepped up onto a large rock to get a better view, not looking where his feet were landing, but instead at what he'd finally found.  Through the binoculars he saw not one, but three mountain bluebirds, all males judging by their bright blue plumage that contrasted beautifully against the dark brown bark of the fir tree they were perched in.  But his enjoyment at the vibrant sight was short lived.  His foot slipped on the rock that was still damp from the morning dew.  He spread his arms out to steady himself, dropping his binoculars in the process, but is was too late.

"Oh Sna-AH!"  He yelled as he completely lost balance and fell.  He tumbled down the steep hillside, his body striking rocks and tree limbs along the way.  Somewhere in his mind, Etho was aware there was pain and would be even more later, but the disorientation caused by the startling fall made it impossible to tell exactly where he was being hurt.  He was vaguely aware of someone shouting, but...

"ETHO!" Gem screamed and darted towards the rock Etho had fallen from.  She was stopped so abruptly by Beef's tight grip on her arm that she almost tripped backwards. 

"If you run after him like that, you'll fall, too!" Beef scolded.  He only released her once he was certain she wouldn't run off recklessly.

Gem's eyes darted between Beef and the rock.  When she approached the rock again, she did so much more cautiously.  "ETHO!" she screamed again.  When she was met with only muffled, pained groaned in response, she looked again to Beef, eyes filled with desperation.

"Shit," Beef cursed through clenched teeth.  "Etho?"

"I'm alive...I think...ow."

Beef breathed a sigh of relief while Gem inched dangerously close to the edge, craning her neck as much as she could to try to find where Etho had landed. 

Beef looked around the tree line and eventually found a long, sturdy stick.  Using it as a walking stick for balance, he took a few slow, careful steps down the hillside.  With one hand on the stick, he held the other hand out to Gem.  "Step very gently," he warned.  "Hold on, buddy," Beef called to Etho, "We're coming to ya!"

Again, Etho only groaned in a response that Gem and Beef could barely hear.

Gem nodded and took Beef's hand, and together, they carefully and methodically made their way down the hill.  Occasionally Gem would feel her foothold becoming unsteady and tighten her hold on Beef's hand, prompting him to stop and allow them both to regain their balance before continuing down. 

They reached the bottom safely; the few minutes it had taken them had felt like hours.  What they found there made their stomach turn.  Etho was laying on his back, and blood flowed from a deep gash in his forehead and many smaller cuts on his face, making him squint to avoid getting it in his eyes.  His long sleeved black t-shirt was torn in several places, revealing even more bleeding wounds, though none as serious as the on his head.  Also concerning was the way his right ancle, the one he's initially slipped with, was bent.  It was twisted much farther to the left than an ancle should be, and it didn't take a doctor to tell at first glance that is was most definitely broken.  

They wanted to be relieved that Etho was alive and conscious, but they instantly knew looking at him that in this state, there was no way they could possibly get him back onto the trail.  

Gem dropped to her knees a little less carefully than she should have.  She winced as her legs struck the hard ground, but she paid her own pain no mind as she opened her pack and unpacked her sizable first aid kit.  Beef had called her paranoid for bringing something so large and comprehensive, insisting that it was unnecessary weight and space to take up that could be used to carry more beer.  She'd insisted on it, though, having been the only one in the group to do her proper research (Etho had researched too, though his pre-trip readings had been mostly on the topic of birds native to the area).

"Go get help," Gem told Beef while opening a pack of gauze wrap and alcohol pads. "I'll stay with Etho."

"'M fine, Gem," Etho said.  His slurred speech was added evidence that he'd most likely suffered a concussion. 

"No," Gem insisted.  "You are not fine.  You have a very serious head injury and probably a broken ancle.  I don't even want to move you right now until we know if your back is hurt, too."

"'Im'ma a bology major, I know wha'I'm talkin bout."

Gem stopped and glared at Etho.  "You're an ornithology major, and unless that dorky tactical vest you always wear is hiding a set of wings, I highly doubt your studies apply to you."

"Yeah well, you're jus' a pharm-cicity tech, yeah?"

Gem rolled her eyes and began gently dabbing the alcohol pads around, but not directly on, Etho's most serious head wound.  "Pharmacy tech?  Yeah.  I still took first aid classes."

"I'm ag-sci.  I'm useless here," Beef said.

Gem nodded.  "Which is why I'm sending you to get help."

Etho winced when the alcohol stung his wound.  His vision was blurry and he couldn't quite make out exactly what Gem and Beef were saying.

But then, just for a few seconds, he felt a moment of clarity.  He could hear some sort of ringing, but not quite like the persistent ringing in his ears.  This was a lighter, almost melodic tone, like a wind chime or...

A bike bell.

His eyes opened fully and he stared directly over Gem's shoulder.  What he saw there wasn't some vaguely human shaped shadow or a transparent apparition. 

He was there. 

He was there as clearly and fully as Gem was: a man with black hair and an immaculately groomed mustache, dressed in a pink Hawaiian shirt.

Weakly, Etho raised his arm and tried to point.  "Behin' you, Gem!"

Gem wiped her head around, but saw only trees and rocks there.  She sighed and abandoned her efforts to clean Etho's still-bleeding head, opting instead to press a thick cloth against it in attempt to controll the bleeding.  "No bird watching right now, Etho."

Etho tried to shake his head, but didn't get far due to the pressure from Gem's hand.  "wan'n a bird," he slurred, his breath growing heavier as he spoke.  "I's him.  The guy from th'story."

"You think you saw the ghost of Pinnacles Trail?" Beef asked, raising an eyebrow.  "Dude, you really did hit your head bad."

"Badly," gem corrected.  "And what are you still doing here?  Go!"

"Right!  Right, going now.  You sure you'll be okay?"  

"We have plenty of water and there's bear spray on my necklace," Gem assured him, emphasizing her point by raising up her lanyard to show him the small canister of bear spray hanging there.

A few moments of silence passed after Beef walked away, interrupted only by the ambiance of the forest and Etho's labored breathing and occasional whine of pain.

"Y-you think he died right when'e fell?" Etho asked softly, a tear streaking down his bloody face.  "Or did'e lay there like this?  Knowin' he's never gettin' up?  Jus' waitin' t'die?"

Gem shook her head.  She closed her eyes tightly to suppress her own tears.  "Don't talk like that," She said, her voice cracking despite her best efforts to hold her composure.  "Beef's going to get you help, and you're going to be okay.  Pause would kill us if we came home without you."

Etho's eyes slipped closed and he let out a ragged breath.  "Y'now how... roommates are..."

"Etho?" Gem asked just short of panic when she felt her friend go limp.  "Etho!" She yelled when he didn't respond. "No no nonono no," she muttered and  touched Etho's pulse point.  She nodded to herself when she felt the thump against her fingers.  She layed a hand on his chest and could feel his breathing that was much too shallow to be safe.  

Gem looked up at the hillside.  She couldn't see her other friend through the trees, and could only hope he would find help in time.

"Please hurry, Beef."

Halfway up the hill, Beef was moving as fast as he safely could.  He'd abandoned the walking stick, opting instead to use the rocks and branches around him to pull himself up.  He wished he could sprint up the hill like some kind of wild animal, but he knew that if he rushed himself, he would end up just like Etho.  He heard something crack and crunch beneath his feet.  He looked down and saw Etho's binoculars.  Under his foot was a lense that had popped off in the fall.  They probably weren't totally beyond repair and he wanted to stop to pick them up, but he couldn't afford to risk loosing his balance.

Not to mention any more precious time.  

He could see the top of the hill and the trail now, as well as the top of someone's head.

"HEY!" He shouted to the person.  "Hey, excuse me!"

The person in question stepped out from behind the tree to find him, and Beef had never felt such relief.  Standing there at the top not far from where Etho had fallen was a tan-skinned man with black hair and a stubbled beard dressed in what Beef hoped was a forest ranger's uniform with a hand radio clipped to his belt  

The ranger crossed his arms.  "Excuse me sir!  What are you doing of trail!"  His facial expression and posture were stern, his voice was more curious than accusatory.  

Beef took a second to catch his breath.  "Can you help?  My friend feel, he's really hurt."

The ranger didn't take a spare second to pull a collapsible hiking stick from the deep pockets of his pants.  "Show me."

Beef nodded and let the ranger follow him down the hill.  "He was birdwatching," Beef explained as they made their decent.  It was faster than it had been with Gem.  He somewhat knew the trick to keeping balance on the loose rocks now, and the ranger knew what he was doing as well, likely from years of experience on these trails.  "He was paying more attention to the view than where he was walking and slipped.  His head's bleeding and I think his ancle's probably broken. 

"Is he alone?" the ranger asked.

Beef shook his head.  "No.  Our other friend is still down there with him.  She knows more first aid than I do.

The ranger nodded.  "Good, good."

When they reached the bottom, they found Gem in tears.

"I can't wake him up," she sobbed.

Beef knelt down next to Gem.  "Is he breathing?"

Gem nodded.  

The ranger let out a low whistle.  "Oh, this is bad."  When sobbed again, he responded with, "Sorry.  I don't sugar coat things, I tell it like it is."  He unclipped his radio from his belt and adjusted the frequency.  It squeaked and crackled a little before going silent again.  "Bdubs to HQ, you copy?"

A voice came over the radio in response.  "HQ to Bdubs, I copy."

"We've got an injured hiker on Owl Head.  We're gonna need a med-evac."

"Copy that.  Coordinates?"

Beef and Gem watched Bdubs pull out some sort of device covered in dials and listened as he rattled off a bunch of numbers that were likely the coordinates HQ had asked for.

"Copy that, Bdubs.  Wait there until the chopper arrives."

"Copy that, HQ.  Bdubs out."

Beef stood back up to be face to face with Bdubs.  "Thank you."

"Of course.  As a forest ranger, it's my duty to make sure all you fine visitors are safe.  But just a second now..." Bdubs looked around the area, down at Gem and Etho, then back at Beef.  "There wasn't a fourth person with you was there?"

Beef and Gem looked at each other, then back to Bdubs and shook their heads slowly.

"It's just been the three of us all week," Gem said softly, her voice still rough from crying.

"Hm,  Must not have gotten enough sleep last night.  A full night's rest is important you know.  Keeps you strong and healthy." Bdubs ponded his fist against his chest to emphasize his point, then winced and rubbed the place he'd struck himself.  "Ow.  See?  I'm so strong I even hurt myself." 

Beef chuckled awkwardly at the ranger's odd antics.  He wanted to further address that "fourth person" comment, but there were more important matters to attend to. 

Bdubs knelt down next to Etho on the side opposite Gem.   He looked him over, paying special attention to the other side of Etho's heas.  "Has he been moved since he fell?"

"No," Gem answered.  "I didn't want to risk hurting him more in case something happened to his back.  

"Good thinking."  Bdubs reached over to Etho's broken ankle and gave his foot a light tap.

"What are you-" Gem tried to protest the action, but was interrupted when Etho roused slightly and grimaced in response.  

Bdubs offered Gem a reassuring smile.  "If he can still feel his feet, that's a good thing.  No major spinal damage.  And he's responsive, so he's not comatose."

"I...I guess that makes sense."

Bdubs visually checked Etho over some more while he asked questions of Gem.  

"Was he unconscious when you found him?"

"No, he lost consciousness about... five minutes ago maybe?  He could talk before that, but he was slurring like he was drunk."

"Had he been drinking?  The paramedics will need to know if he's got any substances in his system."

"He had a few beers last night, but nothing this morning."

Bdubs nodded slowly.  "That slurring means a concussion then, for sure.  Looks like there's another wound on the back of his head, too."

Gem sniffed.  "He warned me to be careful when I was acting dumb and now he's the one who fell.  It was my idea to take this stupid trail in the first place."

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Bdubs asked, giving Gem a serious look.

"My name's Gem."

"Gem.  Beautiful name.  Accidents happen, Gem.  You can't blame yourself.  And this gentleman here is..."

"Etho," Gem completed the sentence.

"Etho," Bdubs repeated.

Hearing his name in strange voice caught Etho's attention.  He groaned and his brow furrowed.

"Hey there, buddy,"  Bdubs said softly.  "You waking up?"

Etho's eyes flicked open just for a second before closing again.  "Who'r you?"

"The name’s Bdubs.  I'm the ranger who just called a med-evac for ya.  We're gonna get you out of here, just hold tight."

"Gem?" Etho asked, sounding groggy.

"I'm here, Etho."

"Me too, buddy," Beef said from behind Gem.

"Hurts," Etho grunted through clenched teeth.

"I know," Gem said.  "I'm sorry."

"Pain means you're alive."  Beef gently squeeze Gem's shoulder, and she returned the gesture with a small, tired smile.  "Stay that way for us, okay?"

"'K.  Can't die here."  Etho's lip twitched up in was was meant to be a smile.  "Pause'll kill me 'f I die."

Gem and Beef both laughed, taking Etho's clearly intact sense of humor as a good sign.

Gem echoed Etho's previous words.  "You know how roommates are."

"Is his roommates him emergency contact?"  Bdubs asked.

Gem nodded.  "We're all each other's contact, but he's also on the list."

"I'll need to radio back to HQ so they can contact him."

"Here..." Gem offered before rummaging in the inner pocket of Etho's jacket.  She pulled out a small, clear, waterproof bag containing Etho's passport, trail permit, and list of emergency contact names and numbers.  She handed it to Bdubs.  "Here's all his information, just in case they need it at the HQ."

Bdubs took a moment to admire the bag before standing up.  "This is a genius idea."

"It was all Gem's idea," Beef said, patting Gem's shoulder.  "We all have one on us."

"Well, Gem's great!" Bdubs said with a wide-eyed grin and stepped away to radio back to HQ.

"You really are great," Beef said to Gem.  "I honestly don't think I could have handled this without you.  I wouldn't have had a clue what to do."

Not knowing how to respond, she slumped backwards against Beef's chest and let him hold her steady.  Etho had slipped out of consciousness again, but the bleeding had slowed enough that she felt she could safely remove her hand from the head wound. She left the cloth there just in case.

She looked down at her blood covered hands, and again she began to cry.  She buried her face in Beef's shoulder, and if she felt a few tears that weren't hers roll down her forehead before trickling down her cheek and mingling with her own, she would never say so.