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itsjustrosee · 7 months ago

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Hii!!! Im literally in love with your work 😍it’s so good!!!! I was wondering if you could do a Minho x fem reader where the reader is really feisty and sassy on the outside but soft and scared inside. So when she first comes up in the box as the only girl, her fight or flight instincts come in and she starts running (sorta like Thomas in the beginning of the movies) and she almost makes it into the maze (bc shes really fast) but bumps into Minho who’s on his way out. He grabs her and after that he was instructed to always keep you in his sights bc he’s the only one who can handle/calm you? And you become a runner with him and grow feelings. Something like that idk!

Very cute idea!! I loved writing this, thank you so much for the request!!! This definitely helped me get out of my writing slump so thank you <3

UNDER CONTROL Minho x Fem!reader

Context: look above for summary ^

Warnings: Spice and cursing

Wordcount: 3.4k

! proof read but there might still be some mistakes !

You woke up just to be greeted by almost pitch-black darkness. Questions raced through your mind as your eyes slowly adjusted to your surroundings.

You were in some sort of box. All four walls, including the floor and the ceiling, were made of metal, and you could say that it was almost like you were stuck in a crate of some kind.

There were boxes of food and clothes around you but you didn't have much time to focus on that, not when the cage you were in moved up what seemed like some sort of elevator shaft at an alarming speed.

You tried standing up but you couldn't keep your balance. You landed right back on the floor so you shuffled over into a corner of the box, screaming for help until your throat became raw and you didn't have enough energy to scream anymore.

Hot wet tears streamed down your cheeks and you eventually passed out from exhaustion. When you opened your eyes again, the shaft was still moving but then suddenly it came to an abrupt halt.

You stayed in the corner, curious about what was to come next. Thoughts raced in and out of your brain as you tried to come up with an explanation as to why you were stuck in this cage. But that only made you question even more things. Where had you been before this? Who had you been before this? Who are you?

Your thoughts were interrupted as the crate's ceiling opened, and sunlight from above poured into your box. You looked up as your eyes adjusted to yet another change in lighting and to your surprise, you saw a large group of boys huddled around the perimeter of the box. They all stared at you, some shocked and some surprised.

You heard a couple whoops and hollers being exchanged from those above you and you could hear someone exclaim, "It's a girl!"

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Suddenly a hand reached down to pull you out of the box, "Welcome to the Glade shank," A boy with odd-looking eyebrows explained, the tone of his voice not welcoming once so ever.

"Come on Gally be nice to the greenie, I mean she is a girl," Another boy said, talking to the one who pulled you out of the box who you now knew was Gally. The boy who was talking to Gally was blonde and different from the others, he had a British accent.

You grabbed the hand of the boy hesitantly and got pulled up to the surface. You felt relieved to be standing on grass, let alone solid ground, until you actually looked at everyone around you. The only people you could see were boys. Only boys.

So that's what they meant. You were the only girl there.

Oh fuck no.

That was the only thing on your mind as you sprinted away from everyone. You shoved past the crowd of boys and ran. You ran like your life depended on it. Your heart beat out of your chest as you flew past everyone, you didn't even know where you were going but you just didn't want to be near anyone else, especially not them. This was too overwhelming for you and you shut your eyes as your mind raced almost as fast as you.

Just as you thought you would be successful in your escape, you slowed down your pace just slightly, finally opening your eyes and looking in front of you.

Walls. Four ginormous stone walls loomed over you.

All you could do was stare at them as you continued running, in awe and in horror.

You were too busy peering up at the walls to even notice the boy that you ended up running right into. You slammed into his chest but he barely even got knocked back by you, even though you ran like hell straight into him.

You subconsciously gripped onto both of his biceps with your hands to steady yourself while his hands both flew to your waist to keep you from falling. As you picked your head up to get a look at the person you collided with, your heart practically beat out of your chest.

Jesus Christ this man is hot.

He was much taller than you, your head only reaching his collarbone. He had a muscular frame and from what you could tell from the veins and muscles on his forearms, he was strong.

But it wasn't just his figure that made him attractive, it was also his face. He had a sharp jawline and a pair of hooded dark brown eyes that drew you in, like there was something just so captivating about them but you didn't know what it was.

As he looked you up and down for a moment, he had a mix of shock and realization on his face. "You must be new here, huh?" He said with a soft grin. God even his voice sounded hot.

You could only stare back at him, a look of terror on your face as you did so. As you looked past him and back to the walls, your eyes prickled with tears, ones that threatened to start streaming down your face any second.

Whoever the boy who stood in front of you was, took one good look at your face and his expression softened. "Hey look at me," He said, removing one of his hands from your waist and putting it on your chin as he moved your head so you'd look at him. "This whole thing seems terrifying, trust me I know, but it isn't as bad as you would think." He finished while putting his hand back on your waist.

"Where am I?" You squeaked out, your voice still slightly hoarse from all the screaming you'd done when you'd been stuck in that box.

"The glade," The boy answered. You gave him a look of confusion because it's not exactly like his reply really answered your question. He opened his mouth to speak again, "Alright it's kind of hard to explain all of this, and I really can't tell you all of it now. I know it seems unfair but you have to trust me, you'll learn everything in time."

"Okay," You mumble out with a small nod of your head.

"My name's Minho by the way," He adds as he removes his hands from your waist and crosses his arms, you quickly follow suit and take your hands away from his biceps and put them to your side. "You might not remember your name now, but you'll get it back in a couple d-" You cut him off before he can finish.

"(Y/N)." You say, the name almost sounding foreign to you, "My name is (Y/N)." You muster out again, this time more slowly as if you're actively trying to tie yourself to that name again.

"(Y/N), huh? You know, most people don't get their names back until a day or two out of the box. It's impressive that you remembered yours so quick." He says with a smile that makes your heart melt.

"Guess I'm lucky then," You say while the tips of your lips drag up to form a small smile.

"Guess so," Minho says, returning your smile as he looks back at you.

You hear footsteps approach and you turn around quickly, taking a step back as you do so. Minho puts a hand on your shoulder and suddenly you feel safe, protected almost, by his presence. You take a deep breath in, and a deep breath out. You don't need to run.

Your eyes land on the thankfully smaller group of boys than before, walking up to you and Minho. "Jeez Minho how the hell'd you calm her down?" Someone says while another replies, "Guess he's just skilled with the ladies," Nudging his friend's arm as they both snicker.

"Slim it Fry. You can't blame the poor girl for being totally freaked. I would've done the same if I were her," The blonde one states.

"Alright settle down," One of the boy's who is walking with them states. He's different from the rest though, he looks older, not by much, but just enough to set him apart. He holds himself with confidence and his voice drips with authority and respect.

The two boys next to him quiet down as they walk over. Gally, the Brit, the guy whose name is Fry, a short chubby kid who radiates little brother energy, and the one who you're assuming is the leader, all stood in front of you.

"That was quite the run you made there." The leader states before continuing, "I'm Alby, I sorta run this place, and this," He points to the blondy, "Is Newt, my second in command." He says while Newt gives you a wave.

"I'm (Y/N)." You state.

"Wow, you already remembered your name? It took me a while to remember mine," The chubby boy replies, looking at you as if you're the coolest person he's ever met.

You give him a warm smile and as you're about to speak, someone else cuts in, "Oh slim it Chuck. No one cares," Gally says rudely, "Shouldn't you be cleaning up klunk in the toilets right now anyways?" Gally says with a chuckle.

For some reason, you feel compelled to defend this little kid. "Don't talk to him like that. You don't run the place, so who are you to go around telling everyone what to do?" You say taking a step forward towards Gally. You disliked him already, despite only knowing him for a couple of minutes.

"I can talk to him however the shuck I want, greenie." Gally sneers as he steps towards you. "You just got here and I don't think that you'd want to get on my bad side already." He spits out.

You scoff, "Honestly, I couldn't care less whether or not I'm on your 'bad side'." You grin while mocking him which only makes him angrier. You're now standing toe to toe with him and his face was only inches away from yours. "What are you going to do, huh? Fight me?" You say while finding your ability to get a rise out of him beyond entertaining.

"You little-" Newt pulled Gally away from you before he could do anything he might regret but you just stayed right where you were. This wasn't over, not in your eyes at least.

"Oh come on. Let him at me. I mean look at him, he's practically frothing at the mouth like some sort of wild animal." You say with a chuckle, meanwhile, he looks like he wants to maul you, but you could care less. "What? Are you afraid of getting your ass beat by a girl or something?"

That was all it took for Gally to pounce on you, but Minho pulled you to his side with two firm hands on your hips before he could reach you. Gally missed the both of you in his attempt to tackle you, resulting in him on the ground. While he tried to get up, both Newt and Fry had to hold him back.

"That's enough." Alby's voice booms while stepping between you and Minho and Newt, Fry and Gally. "Gally you've been here for far longer than she has and you are well aware of our rules here," Alby states while staring at Gally, who, after thrashing around, stands on his knees and finally calms down. Neither of the boy's grip on him gets any softer though.

While Alby lectures the both of you, Gally's too busy glaring at you. He was giving you a look that would seem threatening if anyone else was doing it, but his eyebrows shred the illusion of it being anything close to scary or intimidating.

"Alright Gally you get one night in the slammer, and you," He turns his attention to you, "Though you didn't put your hands on Gally, you should still be held responsible for some of this."

"That's fair," You say with a shrug.

"Minho you aren't allowed to leave her side for the next week," Alby states without missing a beat.

"Wait, what?" Both you and Minho say in unison.

"But I need to go in the maze, how is she supposed to be with me then?" Minho questions.

"That won't be a problem because you will be teaching her to become a runner," Alby explains before looking at you, "I've seen a lot of shanks come up through that box and claim they want to be a runner all for the glory of it, but you, you can actually run." You feel a sense of pride as Alby finishes speaking.

Gally finally gets up and starts walking away and Fry walks with him. As Newt stands up, he whispers something into Alby's ear.

"Minho you're going to have to keep her under control and tour her around the glade tonight after you go to the maze room, alright?" Alby confirms.

"Alright," Minho replies in agreement and both Newt and Alby begin to walk away. He takes his hands off your hips and stands in front of you before you can walk away.

"Well, that was quite the introduction you made for yourself, huh?"

"Dude, what do you expect me to do? Do you guys just let him talk to people like that?"

"Well, unfortunately, that's just kind of the way that he is."

"Now that's just a shitty excuse," You say, rolling your eyes.

"Look, I'm not the biggest fan of the way he acts either but you just need to get to know him." He says while shooting you a pleading look.

"Yeah, I think I'll pass." You say with a chuckle.

"Okay I get it, you don't need to be friends with him or anything, you just need to get along with him well enough," Minho says with a sigh.

"Alright fine. I will."

"Good," Minho says with a smile, "Meet me at the box after dinner, I'll show you around the glade afterward."

You give him a thumbs-up and he turns away, walking to, you're assuming, some place called 'the maze room'.

Just as you're about to walk away, to god knows where because you seriously don't even know where the hell you are, you stop in your tracks as you feel someone tug on the hem of your shirt from behind you.

You turn your head to see the kid from before that you defended, and immediately your expression softens.

"Hey, you need something?" You ask softly while turning towards him.

"Oh um, no, I just wanted to thank you for earlier," He says and you are literally fighting every urge you have to just hug this kid and squeeze the shit out of him. "Not many people are really willing to stick up for me around here, so, thank you."

"Of course. I mean, I couldn't just let that loser push you around like that,"

He gives you a genuine smile before speaking again, "My name's Chuck by the way."

"Chuck, huh? Well, it's nice to meet you Chuck," You say, returning his smile, "You wouldn't mind showing me where we have dinner would you? I don't know where the hell I am," You add with a chuckle.

Chuck agrees happily, and soon enough, you were sat down on a bench at a table eating dinner. You sat down with Chuck and a few others, and you made sure that you stayed as far away from Gally as possible.

After dinner, Minho showed you around and told you about the glade and how everyone was kept in here in some maze. Honestly, you couldn't focus on a word he was saying because you couldn't keep your eyes off the way the moonlight perfectly hit his face. It made him look like some kind of god, and to you, staring at him was far more interesting than realizing you all were stuck in here like some sort of lab rats.

Ok so maybe you developed a little crush on him. Who could blame you? He was hot, but he also had a really good personality. The type of personality that lights up a room, one that makes people want to be around you. That's what Minho had.

As you got to know him more while in the maze and out of it, your feelings couldn't help but grow deeper. Not to mention that he was the only person in the whole glade that could actually handle you. Well, Chuck could too, you had become very close with him, but when it came to fights, you told him to stay out of it. After all, you always knew that Minho would be there to pull you away and calm you down, so you didn't want Chuck to bother getting himself into trouble while trying to bail you out.

And tonight was no different. You'd gotten into an argument with Gally at the bonfire, but this one was worse than most. His words were harsher this time, and it pushed you over the edge.

Minho could tell that you actually felt hurt at what Gally said, so he dragged you out of the bonfire and into his hut where he hugged you as you cried into his shoulder.

You never cried in the glade, not once, yet as Minho hugged you, his arms wrapped around your back tightly as he rubbed circles into it, you couldn't help but let out soft sobs into his shirt.

"Shh," Minho whispered into your ear, "Let it out. You're safe here," His words made your heart melt, partially because he was being so nice to you and partially because he was right. It didn't matter where you were, as long as Minho was there, you felt safe.

"It's just so stupid, I shouldn't be crying over this. He's mean to me all the time I need to get over it," You sniffled, your words muffled by the material of his shirt as you spoke into it.

Suddenly, Minho moved his hands to your shoulders and pulled you away from him slightly so you could face him. "Don't say that, alright? It's not stupid." Minho explained, "He was being a total shuck face you have a right to feel frustrated," He said while taking a thumb and whipping a tear from your cheek.

He rested his hand on your cheek as he looked into your eyes and you felt your face flush.

Suddenly, there was a thick tension between both you and Minho. It was a mix of longing and desire, which only intensified after looking back at him.

You couldn't help but glance down at his lips for a split second, hoping he didn't see it but he definitely did. His hand wrapped around your back moved to your waist as his face leaned into yours, and your lips collided with his.

He kissed you softly and tenderly and you couldn't help but kiss him back with the same amount of passion. You moved your arms around his neck as you melted into his touch. You wish you could savor everything about the way he kissed you.

Minho slid one of his hands down your shirt and up your bare back, causing shockwaves to spread throughout your entire body because of the skin-to-skin contact.

The kiss deepened as he became more and more passionate and desperate with you. You slipped your lips open to allow his tongue to enter your mouth and he proceeded to explore every inch of it.

The ache between your legs only grew greater as you felt Minho's bulge press onto it. He hummed into your lips as he moved his hand from your cheek to under the front of your shirt.

Suddenly, he pulled away, biting down on your bottom lip as he did so. He moved his lips to your jaw, down your neck, and eventually down to the sensitive skin on the crook of your neck. He softly bit and then sucked on the skin, leaving a hickey that multiple people were guaranteed to point out tomorrow.

You moaned softly as he did so, and before you and Minho could continue, you heard the door knob of Minho's hut open.

Shit.

"Hey (Y/N) I wanted to apologize for earlier, I didn't mea-" Gally begins to say, but you can imagine the rest of the words get caught in his throat as he sees you and Minho before him.

"Gally get the shuck out-" You say loudly but before you can even continue, Gally's already out of the door as quickly as he came in.

Alright guys, I did it! Heres another request fulfilled!! I actually really liked how this one turned out and I hope you guys do too!!!

I also wanted to thank each and every one of you who's been supporting me even while I haven't been super active, it really means a lot to me <33

ALSO THANK YOU GUYS FOR 50 FOLLOWERS!!!!! that is literally so insane to me. I cannot thank you guys enough for how kind you've all been

#the maze runner #tmr fandom #minho the maze runner #minho tmr x reader #tmr #tmr fanfic #minho tmr #minho fic #x reader #minho x reader

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yanderecookierunkingdom · 11 months ago

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HIII ITS ME AGAIN, i’ve got another idea for you, that you make a little drabble about.

so the time line is like before the yan!beasts got corrupted, or like post-corruption or something, reader is a very overpowered cookie but timid and shy in a way, including considerate and kind, they wants to help people they genuinely loves and cares about (including the beasts), therefore this also makes them a people pleaser/push over, so they keep theyre power secretive

after a while, reader started to see a shift in theyre personality and how they started to resent cookies that didn’t have the same power as themselves, and how they are being kinda possessive/obsessive towards reader, and more really unhealthy behaviors, but of course, like the fool they are, reader decided to ignore those red flags, cause it’s better then having literal no one (said by reader)

anyways when days pass, more things start to change, they start becoming more malicious towards other common cookies, how they cause more chaos and other stuff, of course reader is a bit too delusional to care… till the witches/creators came, saying they need to trap them for good, of course you retaliated (verbally), saying how you care for them and other stuff, and you won’t go through with this, and they tell reader something that will really open theyre eyes to the world, pointing out the actions the beasts do and how shitty and bad they are (including some things they say, how they treat reader etc) how bad their intentions truly are, after this reader was really upset about them, they might be delusional but not THAT delusional, so i think you can vison what happened next now, they advise a plan to get them in a place where the witches can trap them, using reader as a bait, then once it’s done, reader left, no matter how many pleads or yells the beasts through at them, reader didn’t turn back, not even to glance at the prison that they brought themselves upon, as reader walked off, they made a vow to themself, a promise to never be fooled and manipulated like that again, to never pretend to be something they aren’t, after that, they became a whole entire different cookie (woahhh character development, anyway imagine them having a more bayonetta like personality/mindset and strength and speed?) maybe a little crossing of paths once the beasts get out of prison

(also i recently just learnt I HAVE MY OWN TAG? idk why it just made me feel special)

You have?? Such?? Good ideas?? Never stop sending in requests, I love all the ideas you always come up with!!

You were a cold Cookie, with no one really knowing why. You hardly trusted and tended to be very suspicious of Cookies of power. To say it took you ages to even think of trusting the Ancients wa an understatement.

You were heavily against the idea of going to Beast-Yeast, yet you eventually relented. Not for yourself, but to make sure that none of them got manipulated like you did.

You were completely ready to throw hands when the Beasts showed up. To stay you were pissed was an understatement. Somehow, they were convinced they were the victims! Because their fun was cut short!

Shadow Milk Cookie is the biggest instigator. He still thinks you're a pushover and portrays you as such, only to be completely confused when he sees you decimate that animatronic. That was.. a change in the script he didn't expect.

Burning Spice Cookie and Silent Salt Cookie are both taken aback by how ready you were to fight them. Guess that shy part of you was gone!

Eternal Sugar Cookie used to lovebomb you a lot whenever you were still shy. She's surprised to see it no longer works, but doesn't mean she still won't try!

Mystic Flour Cookie is the only one who realizes that you're no longer the same pushover. However, it doesn't mean she won't try and use you for her own benefit again.

#cosmos stars #star: elwiqs #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #burning spice cookie x reader #eternal sugar cookie x reader #silent salt cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader #mystic flour cookie x reader #cosmos constellations

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ofallthingsnasty · 1 year ago

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tags: noncon spanking, power imbalance (boss/employee), exhibitionism, f!reader, reader wears a skirt + is implied to be chubby, this is just about being disciplined by sir crocodile pffft sorry idk what got into me with this one mini disclaimer: I haven’t been up to date with one piece since 2015 + I just finished the alabasta arc during my current re-read. this is pre-canon but please forgive me if I’ve missed anything. pairing: sir crocodile/f!reader word count: 1.4k

“Are you stupid?”

The clipboard in your hand shakes at the harsh words. You owlishly blink at the source of them - your boss, whose upturned eyebrows tell you just how annoyed he is. Crocodile isn’t someone who you should try to talk back to, especially you - too soft compared to him and still fairly new to this job-

Yet you can’t help but bristle at his tone.

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“I've excused you quite enough, haven't I?”

He clicks his tongue and his cigar dips with it, ignoring your indignant face.

“You don't listen, woman. I let it go yesterday but here you go again, staring off into space.”

Oh. So he noticed.

It pains you to admit but you’re still starstruck over working for Sir Crocodile, one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea - and somewhat of a hero to your people. Helping him operate Rain Dinners might be weirdly mundane but being close to the man who has saved the people of Alabasta countless times is something you’re still not quite over. You know you’re too old to be that naive, that blue-eyed - but who can fault for wondering where he got that scar in his face from, or how he lost his hand? Working for someone like him would spice up anyone’s life in Rainbase.

“Ah”, he sighs - heavy and exhausted as though you’re some kind of mutt, refusing to be properly trained - and puts out his cigar. “It's no use.”

Okay, now you’re starting to sweat. Your eyes rush to the manager - who just blinks back at you, a cryptic expression on her stony face.

“Over my knee.”

“Sir-”, you stammer out, glad that the words are even coming out despite the cold shower that is running down your spine. “This is entirely inappropriate- In front of other employees, no less-”

A wave of his hook interrupts you.

“A learning opportunity, then.”

This has to be some sort of nightmare - if it weren’t for the curious little head tilt of the other woman in the room, you’d try to pinch yourself awake. Your mouth opens and closes while you try to process this situation, try to make sense of it. You should leave, quit on the spot, tell him to fuck off-

You surprise yourself when you set down the clipboard with shaky hands.

Maybe it’s because deep down, you don’t want to lose this job or because of the way his voice leaves no more room for discussion - but you lower yourself over his legs, feeling very much like a rotten child and not a fully grown woman. They dig into the fat of your stomach and press the waistband of your skirt uncomfortably against it but you don’t even dare to adjust yourself, you just grip the edge of the chair weakly and try to soothe the sting of humiliation by scrutinizing the texture of the floor beneath you.

You know what comes next - still you startle as your skirt is hiked up by his rough hand. He lifts up your midriff ever so slightly while he pulls the piece of clothing over your ass, the sturdy fabric holding almost all of your weight for a short second. Luckily, it stays intact - contrary to your tights. Thick fingers hook themselves underneath the band that helps them stay in place and you can only let out an indignant squeak as he digs into the thin fabric like it’s butter, ripping large holes into it. At least he leaves your panties where they belong.

“You’re going to count for me”, he says from somewhere above as though he’s telling you how he likes to take his whiskey and not about to spank his employee for a minor transgression.

You just nod with too much enthusiasm and a burning hot face.

You’re stock-still and tense over his knee - so acutely aware of the impending doom. He’s not going to be gentle with you, you have no pretense about that, you know that he’s going to make you feel his frustration, every bit of it.

He lifts his hand from your ass - you hear the fabric of his clothes shuffle, strain - and brace yourself.

It doesn’t hurt at first. You only register the smack of his palm meeting your flesh and feel the force that is behind it, that pushes you forward and shifts the content of your stomach uncomfortably over the bone of his thigh. A split second passes and then- it burns.

You can’t suppress the shocked whimper that leaves you as you press out the count. “One.”

“One, what?”

You grit your teeth in utter shame but promptly rectify your mistake.

"One, Sir. And thank you- Sir"

Your words are rewarded with his hand rubbing the skin beneath it - maybe it’s to alleviate the pain, maybe it’s to cop a feel - you cannot tell.

The next four hits come rather quickly. Your head is thrown down with each one and you can feel the snot building up in your nose, blood accumulating where branches of both the external and internal carotids meet, the skin hot and sticky. Still, you count each and every one of them, your voice getting wispier and wispier from the pain.

“Having trouble holding that thick head of yours up?”, he asks after the fifth one, thumb digging into now tender flesh. It’s an entirely rhetorical question.

“Let me help you. Don’t move.”

Not moving turns out to be rather difficult when his hook moves to your neck, that sharp, glinting tip too close to the soft organs of your throat. The cold metal settles right where your suprahyoid muscles connect to the bone, just above your larynx.

It’s not enough to choke you - but the discomfort keeps your neck straining, instinctively trying to shield that small brace of bone that forms the hyoid.

Your eyes meet blue ones, just above the edge of Crocodile’s desk. You must look absolutely pathetic to her, you’re sure - but there is no judgment in her face, just a slender knuckle under her chin as her full attention is on you. Every further thought is swept away by another hit to your rear. It jerks you into his hook, crushing the fine cartilage of your voice box, forcing mucus into your mouth. Something pops among the muscles, like the jump of a tendon over bone and you balk at the noise, sure that he’ll break you before he even gets to the end of this.

Yet you sputter out the number six, voice throaty with strain.

Seven, eight, nine and ten follow quickly - and aren’t less harsh. Every single cell of your body is focused on getting from one moment to the next, of just getting through this.

Whatever it is you do, it’s deemed to be adequate - eleven and twelve come and go - slower, but heavier - and he finally rests his hand on your prickling skin after you croak out fifteen, Sir, your throat tender and ass bruised so deeply that your left leg shakes with it. A few tense seconds pass - during which you’re not sure if he’s actually done or not, but a soft sigh confirms it.

“Up with you.”

You’ve never moved faster in your life, beaten ass be damned. Trying to preserve the last shreds of your dignity, you tuck down your rumpled skirt with shaky fingers, fighting the urge to rub your sore neck. You can barely look at him, too scared you might find nothing but disdain in his eyes.

“Look at you now. What a nuisance.” He doesn’t sound disappointed - just tired. Like you’re a mess that needs to be cleaned up and he just came home from a long day at work. You shrink into yourself at his tone, relieved that it’s over but still tense, still afraid that there will be other consequences. “Go on. Get yourself fixed.”

You’re dismissed with a simple wave of the very hand you can still feel on your skin - that will make it hard for you to sit in the next few days.

Robin's eyes follow you as you hurry out of the door, pantyhose ripping even further because you try to clumsily adjust it while walking, your face betraying every single emotion you feel. Hurt, humiliation, even genuine anguish - but you’re still in one piece, even if your ego (and ass) are a little beat up. She tilts her head as she watches the very last traces of you disappear.

“Hm. You've gotten soft.”

He huffs in annoyance and reaches for the untouched newspaper in front of him, not even bothering to light a new cigar. She eyes Crocodile for a second as he pulls the pages taut. Something clicks.

"You like her", she says, thoroughly amused now.

The only answer she gets is a sharp tug at the newspaper.

A/N: It's hard to decipher what non-Baroque Works employees of Rain Dinners call Robin -- but she is addressed as manager, so I stuck with that. I hope it didn't confuse you.

#/one piece #one piece x reader #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #/crocodile #tw.noncon

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daenerystargaryen06 · 9 days ago

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Hi again =), In the show, dany's anti-slavery campaign ended in a very lame and disappointing way, she went to vaes dothrak, and took the dothraki and went to meereene and fought the enemies there and then just left to Westeros, and left darrio as basically king of meereene after her lmao, in the books i have hope that it's gonna be handled better, I think for Dany's anti-slavery campaign to end in a satisfying way, she needs to end slavery in all of essos, not just meereene or slaver's bay (maybe i am exaggerating idk). but I'm a little bit confused about it, how many cities in essos practice slavery?, how is dany can successfully end slavery in all of them and leave them in a better way than she did with astapor?, because of the quote "to go forward I must go back" I believe dany will not go straight to meereene after vaes dothrak, I think she will go from vaes dothrak to Qarth them astapor then Yunkai and then to meereene and end slavery for good in all of them, just like what the quote says, but what about the other cities that practice slavery?, ending slavery is one of the BIGGEST arks in Daenerys's story and the story in general, so I think ending that ark (Dany's anti-slavery campaign) with her abolishing slavery in just one city or three and leaving the other cities to practice slavery like it's nothing is just gonna be a very disappointing conclusion and is gonna leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

Sorry that this ask is long, but I would love to hear your thoughts and theories about this.

So sorry for the delayed reply! I have been so busy as of late and inactive from Tumblr for a long while, and for some reason my inbox appeared as empty, apologies.

To answer your first question, many cities in Essos practice the slave practice. We all know about Slaver's Bay with Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen; these three cities are the main 'meat' of the slave trade- the cities most rooted with the practice and making their merit from it, with the most focus based upon them. But the Free Cities do practice slavery as well. Of the nine Free Cities in total, only Braavos is against the act. Pentos is listed as anti-slavery, but only on paper, as there was still acts of slavery occurring within the city, provided by these quotes here:

"Dany said nothing. Magister Illyrio was a dealer in spices, gemstones, dragonbone, and other, less savory things. He had friends in all of the Nine Free Cities, it was said, and even beyond, in Vaes Dothrak and the fabled lands beside the Jade Sea. It was also said that he'd never had a friend he wouldn't cheerfully sell for the right price. [...] "Illyrio will send the slaves to bathe you. Be sure you wash off the stink of the stables. Khal Drogo has a thousand horses, tonight he looks for a different sort of mount." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys I

"There came a soft knock on her door. "Come," Dany said, turning away from the window. Illyrio's servants entered, bowed, and set about their business. They were slaves, a gift from one of the magister's many Dothraki friends. There was no slavery in the free city of Pentos. Nonetheless, they were slaves." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys I

I do not know exactly how Daenerys could end slavery for each and every one of these cities, to be honest here. I do believe G.R.R.M likely oversighted just how big and long Daenerys' anti-slavery arc would take before she can reach Westeros. I believe he did plan to do a five year time skip originally, which would likely gloss over Daenerys working her way through Essos to conquer the cities and free the slaves from their chains, yet he discarded the idea and did not implement it into his plot (however, he might do the five year time skip in his future works such as TWOW; as it would give him a better leeway to continue the bulk of the story -Daenerys and her dragons arriving to Westeros, making allies, going to war, etc.- while also giving him the ability to gloss/lightly give some detail into her Essos campaign across the cities to free the slaves and rid of slavery for good). Still, as of now, his works thus far seem too short for his vision for Daenerys' arc in Essos. Her plotline, campaign, the meat of the slave cities and their extent are just too large to fill for only two books yet to be released of the series (if they ever get released/finished at all).

I also do believe in the theory that Daenerys will trail from Vaes Dothrak with more men to add to her armies and Drogon through Qarth and forward to finish her goal and rid the cities of slavery for good. As for the other cities- that is a hard contemplative matter. I believe if G.R.R.M wanted to write out her full arc and plot for Essos and ridding of slavery entirely, he would have her trail from Meereen to the other Free Cities in a march and go on from there, slowly rooting out slavery from them and overturning the cities and fixing them for the better. However, as my previous point states, this is too bulky of an arc/plotline to finish in just two books, unless those books are going to be massive- or he does the five year time skip he had originally intended since with it he doesn't technically need to expand into how exactly she ended the practice for good; he could just gloss over those details and write that she was successful in her goal yet not omit as to how she completed them exactly.

I also agree that the anti-slavery campaign is one of her biggest and most important plots, the most detailed as well, and it would leave confusion/bitterness in others if she just ended slavery in Slaver's Bay yet left the other Free Cities unattended. Considering we know Daenerys' character, who she is, what she has done to accomplish her goals of ending slavery, etc. is what leaves a bad taste- because it would be a VERY ooc action for her to just ignore the slavery going on in the other Free Cities of Essos and leave them as is just to sail to Westeros... considering she herself said this:

"But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?" He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. "My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I've freed all over again." She turned back to look at their faces. "I will not march." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI

But I do believe G.R.R.M may have written himself into a rut with how expansive he made her arc and how important/detailed it became; how it is so integral on its own it could make its own book in my opinion. That or he does plan on making the last two books somehow end her arc in a cohesive manner... maybe he does plan on fleshing it out and making the books massive in pages/writing, or maybe he plans on doing a time skip of some sort. If he even manages to finish and release his works, that is. It is hard to speculate on and think over how he would manage to finish her slavery arc considering how large and complicated he made it in terms of the books. It has become such a massive and important plot but it also would take up a good chunk of the books if he does expand on it and finish it properly, not to mention his other plans for other characters and their arcs/plotlines, Daenerys arriving to Westeros, the Others, etc.

G.R.R.M basically wrote himself into a corner on this one, and as for now all we can do is speculate upon the matter, but it is intriguing to think about how exactly he can write himself back out of it and possibly finish the arc/plotline if he does wind up finishing and releasing his books.

Thanks for the ask! :)

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entishramblings · 1 year ago

Text

The Scorpion of Sarn Ford [Aragorn/F!Reader]

A.N: the amount of weird shit I had to google for this….my FBI agent definitely thinks I’m planning some fucked up crap.

Inspired: this fic was inspired by @estelofrivendell ‘s fic A Change of Heart. I adored the Assassin/Ranger relationship and had to put my own spin on it!

Pairing: Aragorn X Fem!Reader

Summary: The Scorpion of Sarn Forn is a notorious assassin. Much to Strider’s dismay, they are both hired for a job.

Disclaimer: I tried my best with geography, once again, it isn’t my best subject. heh!

Word count: 8.2k (idk why I’m like this)

Warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, humor that will have you peeing, blood, torture, death, murder, brief insinuation to sexual abuse (side character), creepy men that get what's coming to them, a little bit of spice, brief shirtless aragorn. this sounds very dark but I promise you its good, besides: shirtless aragorn. duh.

MASTERLIST | AO3 | WATTPAD

Aragorn never thought he would be in this position. He never even anticipated such a scenario. It was, quite frankly, entirely unfathomable. Not once did it cross his mind that he might be in the same city as her, much less be forced to sit next to her at The Black Falcon Tavern and Inn with a potential contractor. You see, The Scorpion of Sarn Ford—or as Aragorn preferred to refer to her as: the heinous hellspawn that middle-earth would undoubtedly be far better off without—was a notorious assassin. She made her coin from slipping into the shadows and slaughtering her targets, leaving no trace besides a corpse—still warm from the blood that once ran through it. The men of the south-west were wise enough to be wary and the rich of such lands were stupid enough to empower her with their dark wishes. She’s rumored to have a body count in the hundreds, including kings and queens. Though, that is not how she acquired her title.

Percaric Rothswood, one of the richer dukes of Anfalas, sat with them at a table in the back of the tavern. The Ranger and the Scorpion occupied the bench alongside the wooden wall, granting them both a clear vantage point of the entire establishment, while Percaric sat in a chair across from them. Aragorn's arms were folded, a small blade discreetly nestled up his sleeve, and his ale remained untouched on the table. Yet, the assassin reclined casually at his side, her dark cloak draped loosely enough to unveil the myriad of weapons adorning her attire, with two empty pints before her and a third in her hand.

The peculiar grouping drew the attention of onlookers—it was indeed an unusual gathering, particularly with the presence of the infamous Scorpion of Sarn Ford, and her form specifically beside Strider. Nervous and inquisitive gazes, hushed conversations, subtle nods, and even more overt glances from passersby and bar-sitters were all directed towards the pair. If a meeting like this were to take place, something must be going down.

“So, what’s this job, Percaric, that requires a ranger and a shrew,” Aragorn gruffed, his scowl as deep as the sand pits of the eastern coast.

The woman beside him snorted. “A shrew. Just what a lady wants to be called.”

He shrugged. “An argumentative, ill-tempered rat. I see no difference between it and you.”

She raised a brow, twisting her head to look at him. “Technically a shrew is a mole.”

Aragorn sent her a glare in response.

She huffed at him. “A mole that will die if it doesn't eat every two to three hours.” She picked up her ale and took a swing. “That sounds nothing like me.”

“You reckon so? I bet if you didn't get new gold to chew on in that exact time frame you would also die of pompous deprivation.”

A deep chuckle escaped her throat as her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. She turned to quip back an insult; however, Percaric nervously interrupted the hostile hires.

“Well, uh, you see, it's quite a delicate matter. The-the job, that is. My client doesn't want his indiscretions aired out among the common folk because, well, uh, the matter is quite sensitive and—”

Aragorn rolled his eyes. “Just spit it out, Percaric.”

The man exhaled through his nose, nervously patting the table. “Right, right, very well then.” He cleared his throat. “Well, uh, my client, his daughter was taken by someone of high prestige and, well, he would like her back.”

Aragorn leaned back in the chair. “Why doesn't he just pay the ransom then? Instead of hiring someone to take her back. There is a ransom isn't there?”

“Of course, of course. But, well, you see, this daughter, ehem, she’s bastard-born. His wife doesnt know that she exists and he would like to keep it that way. Paying the ransom directly would cause too much attention. Like I said, he wants this discreet.”

Aragorn sighed, his morals pulling hard on his heart. “How old is the girl?”

Percaric winced. “Fourteen.”

The Ranger cursed under his breath. “She’s just a kid.”

“Yes, yes. Well, you see, that’s why my client asked for you, Strider. Not many would want to help a bastard daughter.”

The Scorpion leaned in. “Then why did he ask for me as well?”

Percaric’s face twitched. “Well, uh, Scorpion, there’s a matter a bit more delicate involved that requires your skill.”

She raised her brows.

“My–my client’s daughter is quite beautiful. Well, we can only assume what is being done to her by her captor during her stay. He, well, he wants the perpetrator killed.”

She snorted, leaning back into the wall behind her. “Why not make Strider here do it?”

The Ranger clenched his jaw. “He should be imprisoned, rotting in a cell for his crime.”

“Ah,” she started. “You would bring him in instead of kill him, and that would mean a trial.” She winked at Percaric. “Too public for this client of yours.”

An anxious and awkward giggle-like breath left the man’s lips. “Precisely.”

“So, where is she being kept?” The Scorpion asked.

The duke glanced around him before leaning in and letting his next sentence come out as a whisper. “The tower of Eastemnet.”

“Eastemnet?” Aragorn confirmed, wide-eyed and surprised. “But that would mean—”

“Lord Theovail,” the assassin interjected. “One of the richest, well-guarded men in Arda.”

Percaric bit his lip. “Yes, yes. Now, well, now you see why my client asked for you, Scorpion of Sarn Ford.”

Aragorn huffed, hot air coming from his nose, as he shook his head—now finally reaching for his ale. “We will take the job,” he stated reluctantly.

“Oi! Not so fast,” the assassin interjected. “What’s the pay?”

The Ranger shot her a glare. “A girl, a child, is being held prisoner, and you worry of pay?”

She glared right back at him before turning back to Percaric. “The pay?”

He cleared his throat. “Three hundred pieces of gold up front and another three hundred upon your return of the girl, alive, and proof of Theovail’s death. Though you will have to split it, I’m afraid.”

She raised her hands with a tilt of the head. “Fine by me.” She turned, flashing a devilish grin to the man next to her. “Let us go hunt a girl-snatching arsewipe, Strider.”

He offered no-response other than a scowling side eye.

“Fantastic,” Percaric replied, taking two coin pouches out and plopping them on the table.

The assassin was quick to snatch up one of the bundles, standing, ready to take her leave.

Aragorn, however, let his finger drift over the coin. He glanced up at Percaric. “What’s her name?”

The man’s expression softened. “Calista, daughter of Lord Kassim.”

Aragorn nodded, grasping onto the pouch. “We will bring Calista home.”

……

The pair had been traveling for approximately two weeks at this point, and their interactions during this time were characterized by sparse conversations intertwined with numerous glares and disdainful expressions. In those few moments when words were exchanged, they were often heated disagreements concerning which path to follow, strategies for infiltrating the tower, or debates over the responsibilities of meals. It was, quite frankly, the most miserable trek across Arda that Aragorn had ever taken upon. But it wasn't until they were passing through the gap of Rohan, between the Misty Mountains and Ered Nimrais, that they met any trouble.

An arrow, coming from the mountain’s rocky side, whizzing past Aragorn’s ear was the first sign of danger.

He whipped his head around. “Scorpion!” he called out in warning, his eyes meeting the assassin’s for a brief moment.

She drew her dual silver blades only seconds before a small pack of goblins began descending. She was quick to behead the first goblin whose feet hit the grassy pass they walked through.

“Goblin’s from the Mountains,” she hissed.

Aragorn too drew his sword. “They shouldn't be this far south! They stay up near Ehu Daur and Moira!” He drove his blade through one of the beasts, swinging around to slice another.

“Well, clearly, they dont give a fuck as to where they should or should be!” The Scorpion quipped back as she brought one of her blades through the neck of one of the creatures. “On your left!”

Aragorn twisted his body just in time to block a blow from a rusted scythe.

The assassin dodged the next beast that came at her and sprinted towards the biggest one. She was quick to push herself into the air, flip over the goblin, and slice its throat before her feet even landed on the ground.

She looked up to see the two final goblins, one in match with her companion and the other approaching his back.

The woman moved quickly. Her feet carried her towards the beast who held its blade above Strider’s head. Just before it was to be brought downward, she yelled out a war cry and grasped onto the few hairs the creature had. She yanked hard. The goblin fell backwards onto the ground and she pounced on top of him, sending her blade through his heart—his pungent blood spraying across her face, neck, tunic, and leather armor.

With heavy panting breath, she stood and turned to face the Ranger who had slayed the final beast. Kicking the corpse of the one she had just killed, she spoke. “Only nine. A scouting team. More will be coming upon their lack of return. We gotta get a move on.”

Aragorn’s lips were parted in surprise, realizing that he nearly lost his life. Surprising the assassin, he spoke words that she never would have thought to leave his lips for her. “Thank you, Scorpion.”

She raised her brows. “I have a name, you know, Strider.”

The Ranger turned away from her, continuing along their path. “I don't care to know it,” he gruffed out, his brief sincerity from moments before disappearing.

She snorted, calling out to him regardless. “It’s (Y/N).”

“Don’t fall behind, Scorpion,” he replied.

She huffed, her irritation obvious, before jogging to catch up with his wide strides. “I don’t like you very much either, but if we're gonna be on this job for a while, you could at least not be a dick.”

“Coming from the rudest and most corrupt person I have ever met, that's rich.”

She chuckled loudly. “Wow. Rude, okay, I deserve that. But corrupt? That’s a bit far-fetched.”

He stopped walking, twisting to glower down at her with disgust. “You truly think so? Let’s talk of why they attach the massacre of Sarn Ford to your name. You killed dozens. Women. Children. Innocents. All for what? Gold! Corrupt is too kind a word for you. Wicked, diabolical, vicious is more like it.”

(Y/N)’s brows shot upward as a pained and frustrated laugh thundered in her chest. “Really? Do you even know what was happening in Sarn Ford?!”

“They were farmers! Common folk! Living off the land in peace and you…you slaughtered them!” he yelled.

She got in his face, her hot, angry breath burning against his skin. “THEY WERE ALREADY GOOD AS DEAD, STRIDER!”

“How could you even say that?” he replied, horrified.

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath, before focusing back on the man before her. “A disease was making its way through their village. Incurable. Painful. An alchemist, who had been working for weeks to try and find anything to help them, hired me. There was nothing to be done for them except extend a hand of mercy. To give them a good, painless death.”

Aragorn stared at her, his brows pulled together with shock in his gaze.

The assassin clenched her jaw. “I had mothers plead with me to end their child's life while cradled in their arms, only to follow them into death. At least, that way, they could die together.” She looked up at him, her tone privy with rage. “So, yes, Strider, feel free to bestow upon me any epithet you see fit."

He was silent, his shock radiating into the wind around him. Quietly, he spoke again, “How did you not get sick?”

She exhaled slowly. “The alchemist instructed me to wear cloth over my face and cover all skin but my eyes. Once the deed was done, I burned everything I wore and paid for new clothes with gold born of their suffering.”

Aragorn nodded slowly, compassion in his gray eyes. “I am sorry. Doing such a thing mustn't have been easy. It was an execution of mercy.” He turned, continuing once more. “Though the tales of your other kills aren't so kind. Come along, Scorpion. There’s a town a couple days ahead.”

(Y/N) snorted, anger seething in her bones, but followed him nonetheless.”

…..

The pair strode towards the Inn, located not far from Gondor’s borders. They forcefully pulled the door open, unveiling a noisy uproar of laughter and boisterous shouting, mingling with the lovely odors of urine, sweat, and stagnant ale. Creating such an environment, one the Scorpion and Ranger were used to, were the disheveled bodies of inebriated men.

With a mischievous grin, (Y/N) expertly navigated through the crowd, leading Strider to a secluded table nestled in a dim corner. It wasn't long before the arrival of steaming platters of meat and bread arrived, along with two pints of foamy ale, both of which they heartily devoured. The Scorpion raised her hand, beckoning the barmaid over and placing an order for two more pints—both of which she downed, much to Aragorn's evident disapproval.

After releasing a loud belch, she casually swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, then rose to her feet. “Gonna go get some air,” she grumbled, her balance momentarily unsteady as she gained her footing. Aragorn, in response, merely offered an exasperated roll of his eyes.

The assassin maneuvered through the bustling throng of men, slipping through the sea of people before pushing through the doors. The sudden rush of frigid tranquility enveloped her skin as she stepped into the embrace of the night. With a deliberate intake of breath, she allowed the crisp air to fill her lungs. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she tilted her head upwards, letting the misting drizzle of rain kiss her skin. The sound of the tavern was muffled, and the echoes of the celebration they passed down the road drifted into the air. Though it was subtle, for it didn't drown out the sounds of the singing crickets or the croaking frogs. It was peaceful. Well, that is until a form slammed into her and pressed her against the wall.

The smell of ale-laden breath and sticky sweat filled her nostrils as her eyes shot open. Her gaze, fueled by adrenaline, locked onto the burly figure before her—a man with a rugged orange beard—who had forced himself upon her.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone in a dangerous place like this?” he asked, a knife held to her throat.

She snarled up at him. “Oh, you're about to find out—”

Before she could make a move, however, the man was suddenly struck from the side, his body sent sprawling onto the weathered, muddy path.

As (Y/N) peeled herself from the wall, her hand instinctively reached for the slight gash on her neck. Meanwhile, the bearded man found himself seized by the throat, forcefully hoisted upward, and pressed hard against the unyielding stone.

“Do you even know who that is?” Strider uttered sharply.

A chuckle escaped the lips of the man, his bloodied lip spraying a fine mist of red onto Aragorn's face. “You’re whore?” he sneered.

With an unrelenting grip on the man's throat, Aragorn pulled him several inches away from the wall, only to slam him back against it once more. The impact elicited a grunt from the man. "The Scorpion of Sarn Ford," Aragorn hissed through clenched teeth, his voice seething with restrained fury.

The assailant’s laughter was dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah and I'm the fuckin’ King of Gondor.”

The Ranger clenched his jaw, ignoring the secret dig the man's comment produced. “You know why they call her that? Hmm. The Scorpion? Scorpions incapacitate their prey with venom, paralyzing them before they deal the final blow. That woman over there? She severs her targets’ spinal nerve, rendering them unable to move before subjecting them to her torture and kill. And the worst part? She doesn't even need them paralyzed. She gets off from witnessing the terror in their eyes as they're rendered helpless.”

Another laugh escaped the man, but as his gaze shifted towards (Y/N), his amusement faded. The assassin now held a dagger, twirling it in her fingers, a sinister grin stretching across her features.

He turned to look back at Aragorn, the color now drained from his face. “Ye’ c-cant be serious,” he stammered.

The Ranger merely lifted his brows and tilted his head.

Driven by desperation to escape the woman beside them, the man started to shove against Aragorn. However, a single forceful punch to his jaw rendered him unconscious, his body collapsing onto the mud once more.

“I had it handled,” the assassin stated.

Aragorn shot her a stern glare before responding bluntly, "Sure, you did."

The woman emitted a snort, yet settled into a squat beside the man, her dagger poised.

The Ranger, however, was quick to grab her by the wrist, successfully stopping her actions. "Are you out of your mind? We can't kill him. That's the last thing we need – drawing attention to ourselves."

With a huff of mild exasperation, she sheathed her blade. "Fine." She then nodded to the black horse tethered nearby, gesturing with a nod. "That's his horse. Saw him dismount as we entered. Bring it here."

Aragorn frowned, confused, but did as she asked.

“Alright,” she stated, gathering the man’s arms in her hands. “Help me with his legs.”

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“Strider, just grab his damn legs.”

Exhaling audibly, the Ranger complied, reluctantly gripping the man's ankles. With a coordinated heave, they hoisted the man up from the muck. After a few groans and sighs, he was draped over his horse's back.

The Scorpion then took the leather strapping of the saddle and began binding the man’s hands and feet to it. She nodded to the young maple tree behind the Ranger. “Get me a large twig from that. Bout a foot tall. Keep the leaves on it.”

“What?” he hissed, his hands spreading wide in a gesture of bewilderment.

“Strider, would you just get the branch,” she urged impatiently.

Another loud, reluctant exhale left his lips, yet he trudged toward the tree and pulled off what she requested. He approached her, holding out the twig.

“Ah, thank you,” she acknowledged with a grin, accepting it from him.

With that she moved to the side of the horse, close to the man's legs. She seized the waistband of his trousers and gave it a yank, reaving his bare ass.

“Scorpion,” Aragorn chided.

Undeterred, she grinned, sticking the small branch between his ass cheeks so it stood upright, its leaves rustling faintly in the breeze.

“Seriously?” he gruffed out, his arms crossed.

(Y/N) looked at him with a wicked smirk. “You hear that party still going on down the road? I think they would appreciate some impromptu entertainment.” With that, she smacked the horse's rear and, with a brisk snort, it took off down the path.

Not even a minute passed, when they heard the shouts of anger and amusement funneling from the gathering.

Strider turned to glare at her, his jaw clenched and his eyes burning with irritation. He grasped onto her bicep and pulled her towards the doors. "Get inside the damned tavern, quickly."

A loud, hearty laugh flew from her throat, yet she allowed him to pull her along.

Engulfed once again in the clamorous atmosphere of the inn, Aragorn wasted no time in steering her towards the bar. “You can't just put a branch up the arsehole of a person that pisses you off,” he hissed under his breath.

She grinned unapologetically. “Sure, I can.”

He blew hot air out his nose, opting to withhold a retort. With a determined demeanor, he maneuvered them through the crowd of men, navigating as close to the counter as he could get. "Barkeep," he called out, projecting his voice. "Two room keys."

The man approached them with a shrug. “Only got one room left.”

Aragorn huffed. “Fine. Well take it.”

With that, the Ranger deposited three gold coins into the man's palm, secured the key, and then swiftly tugged the Scorpion alongside him as they grabbed their bags and ascended the creaky wooden staircase.

They approached their door, marked the same as the key, and it swung open under Aragorn’s touch. Within, the room exuded a chill darkness, accompanied by a faint draft slipping in through the slightly cracked window. The space appeared quite sparse, furnished with nothing but a small dresser, a modest table accompanied by two chairs...and a solitary bed.

A muttered curse escaped the Ranger's lips as he unceremoniously dropped his bag onto the table. "I'll take the floor."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Really, Strider? It’s the one night we get the option of having a bed. As long as you stay on your side, I don't mind sharing.”

“Fine,” was his gruff response.

With that, the pair began getting comfortable for the night. Aragorn lit the worn down candle, its feeble golden glow illuminating the area, proving slightly better light as he dug through his bag. Meanwhile, (Y/N) shed her cloak and vast assortment of weapons, earning a skeptical glance from the Ranger. Yet, when she began to unfasten the tightly-worn leather armor that clung to her figure, his reaction was far more dramatic. "What on earth is that stench?!" he blurted out, recoiling.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Remember those goblins? Yeah, I got an unexpected bath in their blood.”

“That was days ago. You reek,” he retorted. He strode over to the dresser, opening drawers until he came across a gray towel. Returning to the table, he picked up the pitcher beside the candle and gradually poured water into a small basin, also provided. After submerging the towel and wringing it out, he flung the damp cloth towards her, which she easily caught. “Clean yourself up.”

She shrugged once more. Turning away, she shed her shirt and let it drop to the floor. Her swift movements were focused as she wiped her face, neck, and chest, cleansing her skin of the grime that clung to it.

Though Aragorn didn't intend to look, his gaze inadvertently flicked towards her silhouette against the wall. It was then that his eyes fixed upon her bare back, adorned with a network of vivid, angry scars. He’d seen scars like that. He knew what they were from: torture.

“(Y/N),” he whispered sincerely, his steps leading him closer to her form. “What happened?”

Hearing her name for the first time from his lips, she was caught off guard—her heart skipping a beat. The simple utterance carried an unexpected weight, a rare vulnerability that seemed to momentarily freeze her in place. Uncertainty gripped her as she stood still, her mind racing to process the unfamiliar tone from him.

His touch was tender as he raised his hand to trace the lines on her skin. “Who did this to you?” he growled.

Brought back to the present, she instinctively recoiled from his touch. "I'm an assassin. I've earned my fair share of enemies," she replied, her voice tinged with defiance. Shifting her gaze over her shoulder, she met his eyes. "Have an extra shirt? Mine's beyond saving."

"I, uh, yes. Yes, of course," Aragorn responded, seeming to realize the sudden intimacy of the moment. He retreated to his bag, rifling through its contents until he procured a cream-colored tunic. He tossed it to her. "This should suffice."

“Thanks,” she grumbled, pulling it over her head.

(Y/N) approached the table, the Ranger's shirt engulfing her smaller frame. The fabric's loose drape hung off her shoulder. If she wasn't such a menace, Aragorn would have thought that she looked cute in his clothes.

Ungracefully, she deposited the damp towel on the tabletop before proceeding to yank off her boots and socks, placing them with a deliberate thud upon the chair nearby. “We are not that far from the tower of Eastemnet. Perhaps a two day journey or so. However, our predicament remains unchanged: we don't have a solid strategy. We don't have any floor plans. We don't know how many guards will be stationed. And we don't know where the girl is being kept. We are gonna be going in blind—”

“You’re bleeding,” he interjected, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of concern.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Just a scratch,” she dismissed casually.

Aragorn grasped onto her jaw, lifting her chin up to take a better look. "A seemingly insignificant wound could easily become infected, Scorpion," he asserted, his tone insistent.”

She pulled her head from his grasp with a snort. “I’m fine, Strider.”

He crossed his arms, an unyielding resolve in his expression. “If we are breaking into Lord Theovail’s tower and stealing from him, I'd prefer my partner not succumb to infection-induced delirium, potentially endangering both our lives." Swiftly, he nudged the empty chair towards her. “Now, sit down, Scorpion.”

(Y/N)’s brows lifted, followed by a teasing expression that animated her features. “Oh? So I'm your partner now?” she quipped, her tone laced with playful amusement. "What happened to the 'vicious shrew killer that you would rather leave tied to a tree,' as I seem to recall you once calling me?"

He glared at her. “Sit, or I will leave you tied to a tree.”

Surprisingly, she did as he asked, allowing herself to sink into the chair with her legs casually sprawled and her arms folded tightly across her chest. Aragorn dug through his bag, pulling out a couple small tins and a tiny glass bottle. Grasping the towel, he located a clean section and dipped it into the basin. Squatting down between her legs, he lifted the towel to her neck. "Chin up," he instructed, and she obeyed without protest. Gently, he began cleansing the wound, meticulously removing dirt and debris from the area. Next, he uncapped the small glass bottle. "This might sting," he warned.

She clenched her jaw, but said nothing as the alcohol was poured upon her neck. Aragorn gently dabbed the liquid away. He then opened one of the small tins, extracting a dollop of green goo.

“What is that shit?” (Y/N) asked.

“Athelas leaf paste.”

“Athelas leaf?” she echoed, seeking further clarification.

“Kingsfoil. Athelas is the elvish word for it,” he replied simply, his attention focused on gently applying the paste to the wound.

She raised her eyebrows. “Elvish, huh. You're full of surprises, Strider. Where’d ya learn that?”

“Shush. Be still.”

The Scorpion rolled her eyes, but complied as he completed the task.

Standing up, Aragorn rinsed his hands and addressed her once more. "We can devise a plan for the tower tomorrow. Right now, we need rest."

(Y/N) sighed, nodding in agreement, as she too stood. She made her way towards the bed and pulled back the thin sheet, eager to climb into the softness of a mattress—regardless of how old and worn it was.

The gentle sound of air extinguishing the candle was succeeded by the enveloping darkness that reclaimed the room. Soon, Aragorn’s footsteps followed. She discerned the rustle of fabric as, presumably, he removed his shirt. The bed then creaked gently as he settled beside her, lying on his back.

She, resting on her side away from him, let her eyes close. There she laid, for a moment, before shifting. Then she shifted again. And again.

“Stop moving, Scorpion,” Aragorn grumbled, his patience waning.

“I can’t get comfortable!” she retorted.

“That’s because you keep moving.”

“It’s cold and you're stealing all the blankets.” With a determined tug, she seized more of the fabric, leaving Aragorn with a minimal share.

He merely exhaled audibly, opting for a wordless response. At the very least, she had ceased her constant fidgeting.

Aragorn remained awake during the initial hours, unable to find slumber. (Y/N)'s breathing had swiftly settled into a rhythmic pattern after she commandeered the majority of the sheets, though her small unconscious movements kept interrupting the perceived tranquility. Occasional, soft whimpers escaped her lips, her brows furrowing with evident distress. In truth, Aragorn found himself uncertain of how to respond. He held onto the hope that the disturbances would cease on their own, perhaps that whatever troubled her dreams would eventually pass. And eventually, it did stop, but not without an unexpected turn of events.

The Ranger's senses jolted as the Scorpion’s frigid form rolled towards his side of the bed, seeking refuge in his warmth. Although she had mentioned feeling cold earlier, the intensity of her chill surprised him. The wave of uncertainty that washed over him did not leave as her cheek pressed against his bare chest. Initially, the thought of infection taking hold crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it; her skin would have been hot to the touch if that were the case. It only took seconds for him to realize that the draft from the cracked window was striking her side directly. With a sigh of reluctance, he tentatively encircled his arm around her, drawing her in further.

In her state of deep slumber, she instinctively nestled into him, drawing a slight skip from Aragorn's heart. He cast a cautious gaze downward, taking in her appearance.

She seemed so different—distinctly separate from the notorious assassin he knew her to be. There was an innocence, an unexpected purity, about her in this moment that rendered her almost unrecognizable. Gone was the perpetual scowl that often marked her features. Instead, her face had relaxed into a gentle expression of repose, free from the tension. Her lips, adorned with the faintest hint of a pout, moved slightly as she drew each breath, almost as if he warded off the nightmares that had plagued her.

In this vulnerable state, the Scorpion seemed untainted by her reputation, stripped of her fearsome persona. The layers of her identity, usually shrouded in crude comments and sharp weapons, had fallen away. It revealed that the facade that she showed the world was just that, a facade. A good one at that though. Even Aragorn—a man well-acquainted with the intricacies of human nature—hadn't thought it would be a mask; but her story of Sarn Ford was the first thing that revealed its possibility to him. It was as if the walls she kept built had crumbled away, allowing him a glimpse of the person beneath the lies. And, until sleep claimed him, he allowed himself to savor this glimpse—to see her beyond the assassin.

When the first light of dawn began to filter in, (Y/N) stirred, wrapped in the warmth and safety that had cocooned her during the night. She hesitated to peel open her eyelids, savoring the sensation. However, as her senses roused to full awareness, a gentle yet distinct rhythm reached her ears—the steady thud of a heart beating beneath her. In an instant, her eyes shot open, and a surge of apprehension raced through her.

Beneath her, Strider's form lay, his chest rising and falling in slumber. Anxiety tightened her chest and clawed at her throat. Reacting instinctively, she sat up abruptly and, fueled by adrenaline, threw a punch at him.

A resounding groan of pain escaped his lips as he scrambled to sit up, his expression twisting in both surprise and discomfort. "What the hell, Scorpion?!" he managed to sputter, his hand instinctively reaching to dab at his lip.

“I thought I told you to stay on your side of the bed!” she retorted sharply.

He glared at her, his irritation obvious. “I did. If you would take a moment to observe your surroundings, you would see you are in fact on my side of the bed.”

Wide-eyed and perplexed, she twisted her upper body around, casting a glance over her shoulder. As the reality of the situation dawned on her, she faced him once more. Her eyes filtered over his form briefly, taking in his muscled biceps and defined abs. Her expression then turned into a deeper scowl. “Fuck off!” she snapped.

He only stared at her, bewildered.

….

Under the shroud of darkness, the Ranger and the Assassin stood at the base of the tower of Eastemnet on the south side. Concealed within the protective embrace of the tree line, they had spent approximately three hours observing the guards' patterns and identifying vulnerabilities in the tower's defenses. There they had hidden two steeds that (Y/N) had procured for them at the inn—most likely through theft, though Aragorn didn't want to think of that—allowing for a quick escape with Calista. Strategically, they discreetly knocked out all the guards on the outposts, binding and gagging them, for they knew the element of surprise would be their only bet. So, now they stood, with a pretty loose plan, ready to steal back what Lord Theovail had taken.

The Scorpion grasped onto the vine that entwined itself along the stone surface of the tower. A swift, assessing tug confirmed its stability. Her gaze shifted briefly to the man positioned behind her. “About two hundred feet to the top. Best guess, that’s where Calista is being held.”

He nodded. “After you.”

The Scorpion adjusted her grip upon the vine and she initiated her ascent. Aragorn doing the same only minutes after.

They moved in a synchronized rhythm, the sound of their breaths and the faint rustling of vines mingling with the night's stillness. Each handhold and foothold was chosen with precision, the texture of the stone under their fingertips guiding their progress.

(Y/N)’s movements were fluid and practiced, evidence to her agility and experience. Her lithe form seemed to dance with the contours of the tower, making it look easy. Aragorn, not as accustomed to such endeavors, displayed a determination that rivaled his unease. His powerful muscles flexed and strained as he pulled himself upward, his eyes never straying far from the path she took.

After what felt like hours, the assassin spoke. “Nearly there, just a couple more feet.”

Aragorn only grunted in response.

The woman firmly gripped the vine adjacent to the windowsill, positioning her feet against the wall in a manner resembling a vertical walk. This facilitated her upward movement as she pulled herself closer to the window. Yet, as her head reached the level of the glass, she swiftly withdrew, instinctively lowering herself. In an unfortunate circumstance, the unconventional stance she maintained resulted in her ass colliding with Aragorn's face.

He groaned. “Really, Scorpion?! Really?!”

“My bad,” she huffed out. “Hold on a second. I think someone is in there.”

“Yeah, hopefully Calista.”

She resumed her ascent, then promptly lowered herself again. This time, Aragorn effectively maneuvered his head to the side, evading her buttocks.

Regardless of this, he shot her a glare—not that she would be able to see it.

“It was a maid.” she whispered. “I think we are in the clear now.”

With that, she heaved herself up for a final time and reached for the dagger strapped to her thigh. “Duck your head,” she commanded. With as much force as she could muster, she brought the blade against the glass, tucking her face into her elbow. It shattered, falling around them both like deadly snow.

The Scorpion pulled herself upward and through the window, careful not to be pierced by any stray piece of glass, and Aragorn did the same.

The room was small, but decorated to the extreme. The prominent feature was the bed, elevated upon a platform, its tall wooden posts adorned with a luxurious velvet canopy that cascaded in graceful drapes. The mattress was covered in ornate blankets and quilts, complemented by an array of plush pillows. However, any semblance of beauty was starkly contradicted by the grim sight of chains extending from the wall and ensnaring the wrists of a young girl, shattering the room's facade of luxury.

Immediately, Aragorn ran towards her side. “Calista,” he murmured gently. “Wake up. It’s time to go.”

Calista's golden hair framed a face that appeared worn and defeated. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing a gaze void of life. Her voice emerged as a feeble whisper. "Who are you?" she inquired softly.

Standing steadfast in the center of the room, (Y/N) maintained her posture with crossed arms. Her unwavering gaze fixed on the imposing wooden door that likely remained locked from the other side. “Your father sent us.”

Aragorn carefully manipulated the cuffs that bound Calista's wrists, gingerly freeing her from their constricting hold. "I'm Strider," he introduced himself, his fingers working skillfully. "We're here to help. Come.”

As if entranced, Calista began to sit up, struggling to rise from the bed. Aragorn extended his support, assisting her onto the floor. However, her weak frame proved too fragile to sustain itself. She leaned unsteadily against him, her body unable to bear its own weight.

The Ranger looked to his partner. “She’s too weak. There's no way I can scale down the wall with her on my back. She won't have the strength to hold on."

The Scorpion uttered a quiet curse. “You will just have to come with me to find Theovail.”

He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. We can't bring her near him.”

“Well, we don't have any other choice,” she snapped. “But as soon as I kill him, we will have to haul ass. His guard will be coming for us then—if they don't already know we are here.”

Aragorn clenched his jaw, inhaling deeply. “Fine. Get that door open.”

With that, the Scorpion set to work picking the lock and Aragorn scooped Calista up in his arms, her golden head nestled into his chest. It wasn't long before the group was creeping down the tower, level by level. The Scorpion led the way, ducking behind walls and maneuvering around pillars, making sure the way was clear. When they came across a guard that was blocking their escape, she was quick to slice his throat and pull his body out of sight.

“Scorpion, why you can't just knock them out?” Aragorn whispered with exasperation.

She, dropping his legs as she stuffed him into a closet, glared at him. “And risk having him wake up and alert others? I think not."

He huffed, knowing she was right.

However, their path forward soon encountered a challenge they couldn't evade as easily. Just as they were on the verge of turning a corner, a young maid's panicked voice pierced the air. “The-the girl. She’s gone!”

(Y/N) slammed her back against the stone wall, Aragorn doing the same.

“What do you mean ‘she’s gone’??!” A deep male voice thundered.

A shared realization passed between (Y/N) and Aragorn—Lord Theovail had now entered the fray.

“FIND HER!” he snapped. “Or it will be your head!”

The servant scurried down the hall, running right past the Ranger and Assassin who slunk into the shadows with their charge.

(Y/N) cautiously peered around the corner. The room before them was every bit as lavish as the one that had imprisoned Calista, if not more so. A roaring fire crackled in the grand fireplace, casting flickering shadows that danced across the two plush velvet couches by it. Luxurious fur blankets adorned each sofa, hinting at Theovail’s rich indulgence. A sprawling fur carpet lay before the fireplace, while an ornate wine cart laden with deep reds was conveniently placed nearby. And there, infuriated, stood Lord Theovail himself, a glass of crimson liquid in hand, his temper fuming. To make matters worse, his guards were positioned near the room's exit—the very door that Aragorn would need to pass through in order to escape with Calista.

The Scorpion drew her knife, sending Aragorn a look. It was time. In a hushed tone, she whispered to him. “When you hear it’s over, take her and run to the doors. I'll be right behind you.”

He nodded in agreement.

She then disappeared into the shadows. Not even a minute passed before Aragorn heard the thumping of two bodies, one right after the other, followed by the telltale crash of a shattering wine glass meeting the floor.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Lord Theovail’s voice thundered, a mix of surprise and outrage lacing his words.

Aragorn cautiously peered around the corner, his heart pounding. Lord Theovail was now a whirlwind of fury and frustration, his gaze darting in every direction and a knife clutched in his hand. “I am not one to indulge in games!” he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber as he brandished the blade. “Reveal yourself, you coward!”

Within seconds, the Scorpion’s blade was poised menacingly at Lord Theovail's throat, her grip firm and unwavering as she held him in check from behind. Her voice dripped with a sinister malice as she spoke, her words slithering through the air like a venomous serpent. “Lord Kassim sends his regards.”

A broad chuckle bubbled from Theovail's lips, mingling with a mix of disbelief and arrogance. “A woman?! Kassim sends a woman to kill me?!”

Aragorn watched as the assassin drew another blade from her lethal arsenal, the steel glinting in the dim light. He winced inwardly, knowing what was about to unfold. In one swift, calculated motion, the Scorpion's blade found its mark, slicing deeply into Theovail's spine. The lord's body crumpled to the floor, staining the pristine white fur carpet with a gruesome red pool. His once-commanding presence now reduced to stillness. Though his eyes, wide and drifting in panic, showed his fear.

She then sat on top of him, bringing the blade to his neck once more. The Scorpion's lips curled into a chilling grin, her eyes alight with a dark satisfaction. “Not just any woman. You ever hear of The Scorpion of Sarn Ford?”

Instantly, a tidal wave of horror engulfed Theovail's blue gaze, his previously defiant demeanor shattered like the fragile glass of Calista’s window.

He knew the legend. He knew there was no escape for him.

However, at that moment, a large, burly guard burst in. Seeing what was unfolding, he was at his Lord’s assistance in a flash. His hand grasped onto the assassin’s hair, yanking her form from Theovail.

Aragorn clenched his jaw, giving her a moment before he intervened.

The collision sent shards of glass and splintered wood flying as the guard and the Scorpion crashed into the wine cart, locked in a fierce struggle. The guard, towering in his size, managed to regain his footing first and hauled the Scorpion up with him. His meaty fists struck out, landing brutal blows that drew crimson from her nose and brow.

The Ranger cursed. Quickly, he sat Calista upon the ground and rushed to his partner's aid. Unsheathing his blade, he lunged into the fray. His sword found its mark in the guard's back, the steel emerging through the man's stomach. Time seemed to freeze as the guard's bloodied gaze locked with the Scorpion's, a moment charged with shock and shared disbelief. The guard crumpled to the ground, revealing Aragorn.

With a swift motion, Aragorn twisted his blade downward and reached out to grasp the Scorpion's face, his hands marked by a blend of relief and fear. The touch, both tender and urgent, brought her gaze to his. Blood marked one cheek, while the other felt the cool press of his blade's hilt against her skin. His deep voice, a mixture of anxiety and care, called out her name. "(Y/N)," he stated, the word a lifeline that pierced through her dazed state.

"(Y/N)," he spoke once more, the urgency remaining. “Are you alright?”

She blinked, forcing a response. “Yes, yes. I'm fine.”

Aragorn released a sigh of relief, yet his hand remained for another heartbeat, a reassurance in the form of touch. "Take care of Theovail. I will get Calista," he instructed, his hands finally and reluctantly withdrawing as he moved to tend to their young charge.

The rest was a blur: (Y/N) slicing Theovail’s throat and grabbing his ruby ring, Aragorn hauling Calista into his arms, and the trio racing down the tower's corridors—fending off any obstacle that dared to stand in their path. Adrenaline drove them to the treeline, panting breath heavy and loud, as they climbed upon their horses and took off into the night—leaving behind the bloody assassination of the Lord of the Eastemnet Tower.

…..

Weeks later, at three in the morning, the trio stumbled into The Black Falcon Tavern, where they first met with Percaric. The establishment was eerily quiet, save for the slumbering figure of the barkeep, who had succumbed to the late hour with his head on the counter. At the far end of the room, Percaric and Calista's mother stood, their figures illuminated by a flickering candle on the table. An air of anxious anticipation clung to the atmosphere.

As soon as their feet crossed the threshold, that stillness was disturbed. Calista's voice pierced the quiet as she called out to her mother, her strength visibly renewed since the ordeal. Without hesitation, mother and daughter closed the distance between themselves, embracing as if they had been torn apart for eternity. Tears flowed freely, mingling sorrow with joy. The warmth of their reunion dispelled the darkness that had clouded their lives.

Percaric approached the Scorpion and the Ranger.

The assassin tossed the man Lord Theovail’s ring. “Proof of death,” she stated bluntly. “I was gonna bring you his head, but figured it would smell pretty rotten after the long journey.”

He nodded awkwardly, the thought making him feel ill. He took a quick moment to examine the ring. Seemingly satisfied, he spoke. “You did well. Lord Kassim sends his thanks.” He then tossed them both pouches of gold before turning back to the mother and daughter. As Percaric prepared to take Calista and her mother back home, he turned back to the two rescuers. His voice carried a sentiment with his words. "Thank you."

Aragorn's silent nod and the Scorpion's subtle acknowledgment conveyed their understanding and their shared commitment to a world that often demanded their sacrifice.

With that, Percaric, Calista, and her mother left the inn, leaving the assassin and the ranger alone.

“Well,” (Y/N) began, as she walked towards the snoring barkeep and leaned over the counter, fishing for the room keys. “I don't know about you, but I could do with a good night’s rest.” She pulled the ring from his waist and turned back to Aragorn. Holding it up, one key dangling, her grin faded. “You're kidding, right?” She shook her head with a huff but turned and made her way to the rickety stairs. “As long as you stay on your side of the bed this time, Strider—”

“Scorpion,” he interrupted as he followed her.

The wood creaked under her feet. “I am serious. Keep yourself in check—”

“Scorpion.”

“I will not hesitate to paralyze you—”

“(Y/N)!”

She froze upon the stairs, slowly turning to look at him on the step directly below her. Now they stood at the same height, face to face, only inches away from each other.

“You almost died out there,” he whispered, his hot breath brushing against her skin.

“Yeah, so did you. It happens,” she shrugged. “It’s what we do.”

“(Y/N),” he persisted.

“What?!”

With that, he grasped onto her face, his finger warm and calloused from the lifetime of travel and battle. Time seemed to freeze as the moment lingered, the air changing between them.

And then, his lips were on hers.

At first, a sense of uncertainty held her still, her mind grappling to comprehend the sudden intimacy. But as his touch deepened and the kiss became a dance, she surrendered to the moment. Her fingers found their way into his hair, tangling themselves among the dark waves, as her lips moved with just as much force—if not more—as his. He tasted of pine and fresh soil, she wast sure if she quite literally was consuming the dirt upon his face, but she didn't care. She couldn't stop herself from becoming enthralled by his lips.

“Scorpion,” he mumbled against her mouth.

She hummed a reply as her lips continued to move with his.

“Room. Now,” he practically growled.

She grinned, her teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “Make me.”

Aragorn pulled away from her, raising his brow with a smirk. With that, he grabbed her by the hips and hoisted her up. Her mouth found his again as he stumbled up the stairs, ignorant to the barkeep who woke and was now squinting at the pair.

“The Scorpion and Strider,” the old man huffed. “The boys aren't gonna believe this one.”

Everything Tag: @scxundress @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @swimming-in-stardust @elvish-sky @red-riding @brun-lieve @idiotic-canadian @hey-its-nonny @angelxnaa @bisexualdragongirl @mirclealignr @edensgarnden @elizabeth-anya-knight @sydney-1209 @laneynoir @straysugzhpe @runningfeather @awarwithinitself @finallyforgotten @kaiawrites @commanderawkward @xxbluestrifexx @slytherinambitious @redbirdbluebird333-blog @angelgracesworldofchaos @desert-fern @hellsitegivemeafreeusername @galadaelin @glorfindelofgondolin @skairipakomtrikru @genderfluid-anime-goth @tpwkcalli @hemera1227 @sotwk @007gogabi @sirenofavalon @hobbitsesoftheshire @asianbutnoteastasian-deactivate @mgchaser @heavenshumour

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#lotr #lord of the rings #the hobbit #Aragorn #Aragorn x reader #Aragorn/reader #Aragorn fic #Aragorn oneshot #Aragorn one shot #aragorn son of arathorn #vayawrites #LOTR fic #lord of the rings fic

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burningcheese-merchant · 1 month ago

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TEHY'RE SO CUTEEEEE!!! I JUST FINISHED DRAWING THEM IN MY STYLE!!! SHOULD I POST IT??!

You drew fanart of my blorbos? 😭😭😭 You shouldn't have 😭😭😭 Yes please, I'd love to see how they look in your style, I bet they look great!!! Better than mine, probably lol!

If you haven't colored them in yet, may I offer some help with that? I gave them specific color schemes (and used a color generator to help visualize them lol. That's kind of stupid, I know, but it helped me a lot personally)

Here's Pepper Jack's:

There are supposed to be little bits of red and orange in his hair as a reference to how pepper jack cheese actually looks. He's brown like Golden Cheese is, but lighter. He's got red eyes like Burning Spice does, too (no slit pupils though, just normal eyes)

I labeled these all as "wings" because I have, like... a sort of gradient in mind, you know? They're mostly blue with a bit of grey/silver mixed in, that gradually lightens to white. (Again, this is for an honest reason. I know it's weird, but I didn't make them blue just because, I swear.) Also, that blue on the far right - you know how Golden has those little triangles on the tips of her wings? I thought of Jack having those, too. Little bright blue triangles that stand out against the white. Idk if that would actually look good, but that's an idea I had... He might look better without them tbh lol. (Also, the skirt is blue, too. Blue with white trim and a black belt. And the bracelet, anklet and sandals are gold)

Here's Matar Paneer's:

I wanted her to be orange because matar paneer (the actual dish) is orange. The eyes are a nod to her mom and to the "cheese" part of the food she takes after ("paneer" is the name of the cheese used in it, it's a type of goat cheese that's a lighter yellow). She pretty much stole Burning Spice's hair, color and texture and everything lol. I'm still debating how to color the dress tbh... idk whether to do a red blouse and a yellow skirt or vice versa. (Also, spoiler, Paneer gets tattoos when she's older lol. Some of them are just like Spice's, some are entirely original (won't spoil those just yet))

Didn't want too much green anywhere, just the trim honestly. Like the hem of her skirt or... certain stitches or something. "Matar" refers to green peas, so I figured she ought to have at least some amount of green in her look. (Plus she has little green earrings that look like green peas!) Again, still not sure about the dress. Her primary color is red (both because of Spice and for another reason), so I want red to be the most prominent thing. Been leaning towards yellow blouse w/ red sleeves + red skirt, but idk. You're welcome to experiment lol. Nvm that one color there, idk what to do with it anymore. Maybe it would be better for the tattoos? Maybe it would contrast against her skin better? The fuck kind of name is "chocolate cosmos" lmao

Also, I wanted there to be some sort of design or pattern on her skirt. Pattu pavadai often has that (look it up, they're all very cute. Indian women's fashion is so cool honestly). I was thinking, like... little cheesebirds or lotus flowers or something. Or hieroglyphs. One of those. (Also, she has gold bracelets on both wrists. I didn't draw them because I didn't think they'd be seen properly with the way she's holding the katar)

Sorry for rambling, I did warn you all that I would talk about these little guys forever lol. I'm extremely flattered that you wanted to draw them, I can't wait to see what you did with them ❤️

#I swear to God I'll explain why Jack is blue lol #It has to do with the Egyptian god he takes after #I want to make separate posts explaining the mythological references bc there actually are a lot #I COOKED you guys I swear #cookie run kingdom #burningcheese #goldenspice #cookie run fankid #cookie run oc #pepper jack cookie #matar paneer cookie

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machiroads · 2 months ago

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Fic Writer Interview

Thank u @plusultraetc for the tag wheeeeee

How many works do you have on AO3?

8️⃣

What's your total AO3 word count?

251,850, 150k of which is one fic lmao

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Nine Lives, by an order of magnitude over 2nd place

Naruhata Noir

A Tumultuous Sea, You and Me (the mer-pirates fic)

Being No One, Going Nowhere (the 2 broken arms fic)

waiting on the seasons to change, waiting for the curtain to fall (the fortuneteller fic)

I am surprised to see the 2 broken arms fic in the top 5 tbh!

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I like to get responses to my own comments, so I try to reply to everyone's comments :]

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Uhhhhh PROBABLY 9L since it ends with everyone going off to war haha oopsie

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Uhhhhhh probably merpirates? It's really gross and sappy. Dive into the ocean and kiss a mermaid in front of your entire crew. The 2 broken arms fic also got a pretty happy ending (Aizawa goes to bed and also maybe jerks it a little)

Do you write crossovers?

Not crossovers per se but I do enjoy a deep in the weeds AU

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don't think so? The worst I get is people saying "wow almost no typos" which is very tame lmao

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not yet! Kintsugi (the epilogue to 9L) will have some mild spice but I'm at a point in my life where I just couldn't be jazzed to write folks doing it sloppy style

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so except for that website that's scraped like a ton of fics a few months back

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had one person request to translate 9L into Ukranian, though I never saw if they ended up doing it. Recently I've also had a couple people leave comments in Spanish so I assume they translated the story into Spanish somehow!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

The unpublished FFXII AU is partially co-written by Robbirdthe8th, but it's been parked for like a year and a half. Also I would be remiss to omit @kyurilin who might as well get bonus credits for the Nutstang

What's your all-time favorite ship?

I have been in fandom spaces for over a decade YOU CAN'T JUST MAKE ME CHOOSE A SINGLE ALL-TIME FAVORITE IT'S IMPOSSIBLE. Perhaps a low-commitment list of OTPs from across the years:

Erasermic (obviously)

Edwin (FMA)

Netteflix (FE3H)

Asanoya (HQ!!)

Kanej (6 of Crows)

Yuchi (FB)

Asucaga (MSGS)

Soukana (FMP)

Maiko (ATLA)

Hanvi (DB)

Nejiten (Naruto)

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Probably any of the Fire Emblem or Fruits Basket fics I started drafting in 2020/2021 before I figured out how to write fic lol

What are your writing strengths?

People tell me I am good at characterization! I think I'm also good at describing a setting, a skill that I exercise often in my technical writing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Exposition, my nemesis. A necessary evil, but it's like pulling teeth, every time.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Short answer: I just. Don't.

Longer answer: I think there's a time and place for it, and I've seen both well-executed and clunky ways of doing it. I've never seen a need for it yet in anything I've written.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

BNHA was the first fandom I published anything for, though honourable mention goes to Fruits Basket and FE3H for convincing me that I can tell my own stories (and then get stuck trying to figure out how to write fiction woops).

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

Idk man I'm just vibing in my lane of erasermic et al right now

What's your favorite fic you've written?

Listen it's gotta be 9L. This fic is the reason I have made so many friends in this community. People have drawn fanart for it (one of which now lives permanently on my desk in the form of a mousepad, thank u Dragon). It is the story that got me into writing fic because it was a story that nobody else was telling, so I wrote the story that I wanted to read.

People still get to the endnotes on 9L and are like THIS IS YOUR FIRST FIC???? and yeah. I started writing fanfiction at the tender age of 28 and the first thing I decided was worth sharing is still my magnum opus. Anyone can write fic! Find a writer whose style you like, emulate it, and write the story you want to read. It's that simple.

#Machiwrites #i am gonna be lazy with tagging folks #do you write and want to talk about your shiz? do this #i am also going to assault your dash by not putting this under a cut #ITS NOT THAT MUCH SCROLLING

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tastesoftamriel · 9 months ago

Note

Hey! Piggybacking off the previous ask: I would be desperately curious to hear some of your thoughts on Ash’abah cuisine! I also seem to recall you posting once about how the foods of Craglorn and interior Hammerfell might differentiate from foods along the coast, but I can’t seem to find it. Could potentially be related topics? Most bustling cities in Hammerfell seem to be along the coast, and I don’t imagine they’d want Ash’abah pariah tribes just hanging around, so idk. It’s a thought!

You are correct that the nomadic Ash’abah are primarily at home deeper in the northern Hammerfell deserts. This is partially because of the posher coastal folk making their disdain known to the group, and partially because, in the words of a member of an Ash'abah group I stayed with for a few weeks, they are at home in the desert.

In a similar vein to Ashlanders in Morrowind, Ash'abah cuisine is shaped by the hostile environments they inhabit, and are therefore unique from urban Redguard fare. While trade with wandering merchants is certainly arranged in order to obtain essential ingredients like spices, grains, and oils, it isn't relied on as the backbone of Ash'abah food.

The traditional Ash'abah diet is somewhat restricted due to the scarcity of the Alik'r, yet through generations of shared knowledge, they have learned to harvest the bounty of the sands. Dunerippers; lizards; giant scorpions, snakes, and spiders; wild goats and camels; rodents, and birds like fellrunners all have edible components, if you know how to cook them! Aloe and cactus are also popular, refreshing inclusions in food to make up for the lack of vegetation.

At the end of my time with the Ash'abah, we sought and gained shelter at a johad and shared a feast the night before my departure. Every other person in the group contributed a dish, meaning we had quite a spread! Jerboa grilled in giant wasp honey; cous cous salad with cactus chunks; sand-baked duneripper shank; barbecued lizard skewers; giant snake steaks cooked in black garlic and camel fat; whole fellrunner roasted on a spit with chili goat's butter, and a rich and spicy scorpion tail soup with wheat flatbread were the main dishes on offer. To end the meal, we had a chilled aloe pudding, made with goat's cream, cardamom, giant snake egg, and a good heap of sweetened aloe pulp. ~Talviel

#Asks #Ash'abah #Redguard #Redguards #Hammerfell #Tes #The Elder Scrolls #Cooking #Food

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tbhimnoteasyonmyself · 11 months ago

Text

TAN IS NEW

Hello, fellow associates, I, local deranged man, bring you (by request of @ayansbff who said I should "go make a post and patent it fr." thank you, Naga <3) once again a theory as insane as whatever has been going on in the ASOIAF fandom in the last 10 years (but no, I'm not here to tell you Tan is a horse or New is a faceless man).

For this week's episode: Tan is New (but with some spice).

Pls beware, this will require a certain level of "bear with me", ok? Ok.

Also: long ass post, guys. Be prepared.

So, 1st things 1st: New is obviously studying abroad.

This would mean that, in all the episodes we've seen of the flashback, we wouldn't have seen New. Because he's literally in a different country (cue theory: New is Mhok working as a cook in Hawaii ksksksk /j).

Nevertheless, in the latest events of the past storyline, Non has just gone M.I.A. Which is definitely something you'd tell the kid's brother about. I'd be pretty pissed if I was New and no one fucking told me about my brother vanishing.

(I think it could definitely be argued that their parents might try to hide the whole getting involved with money laundry and even the pedophilic child revenge porn sex tape on Twitter thing, especially their mother. bc, considering their treatment of Non this episode, it would definitely cross my mind that they'd think something along the lines of "New shouldn't be worried about what his fuck up of a brother is involved with, he should just focus on his study". And idk if Thailand's national news would arrive to New in the US just like that (maybe, maybe not, I won't try to speculate too much, I think it's too much of a wild card). YET, I still think, regardless, they'd have their limits even if the rest was true and they'd tell him about his brother being literally MISSING. So yeah...)

So back on track: sure, the police "think" Non has run away with Keng

Or, was convinced by Tee's uncle to accept that storyline

but Non's parents don't believe that shit

("They're TRYING to make our son LOOK LIKE" not "They think our son HAS")

And I think the same feeling could've been passed to New by his parents or just by New himself. But even if not, I think it's pretty reasonable to assume he'd come back to Thailand after that news. Like, if my brother was missing, I'd feel pretty bad, my parents would feel pretty bad and I'd want to go back home and be with them a bit, follow things up close, at the very least.

So, assuming that's true, it's not weird to presume New could be back in Thailand by the time The Hidden Character (the film Non wrote, not the BOC reality show thing) airs. Which would lead us to:

Now, I've seen people say it's Tan, I've seen people say it's White, I've seen people say it's Bible (?)... To me, that's Tan. The voice that calls "Phee" seems to me that's Mio's voice and the person we see in the door, albeit he does resemble Bible, reads to me as him as well.

Besides, we see him being introduced to the class in the ep.9 preview so, yeah, it could be to throw us off, but I genuinely think it's just bc it's Tan.

Regardless, even if not, Tan will appear next episode. So... There's that. Question is: why?

We see both Tan and Phee moving to the gang's class next episode, which the gang points out as "weird". Now, idk why it would be weird to see people change schools in 12th grade but fine, I'm not gonna argue, maybe they know something I don't. Ig you could argue it's bc it's the last year but I'd say people have issues all the time (being the last year of school doesn't change that) and people also move houses all the time. So I wouldn't question it but ok. Moving on.

We know Phee has a connection to Non (as his ex-boyfriend) but we don't know why Tan would be there too. Sure, we can argue Phee has to have friends. But, ngl, if my friend asked me to move schools bc he wants to find out what happened to his bf who mysteriously disappeared, I'd politely decline. I'd support him in his endeavours, of course, but I wouldn't change my entire life for it. I could even go as much as to help him befriend them and hang out with the fuckers but I wouldn't move schools, I think.

So Tan must have a bigger motive, right? And what bigger motive than being the brother of Non, am I right?

Furthermore, we have to consider legal matters. They're all minors. Phee's father, of course, knows about Phee being, at least, friends with Non. And, even if he told him to stay out of trouble and that he himself would not go around poking in the business for Phee's own safety, I think he'd be okay with Phee moving schools for grief reasons (a.k.a being close to Non because that was his school) or even bc he knew Phee was trying to talk to his friends (I don't think he suspects the kids too much and honestly that's a terrible lack of sight on his behalf but, I mean, they're kids, I think it's fair to assume they're innocent).

But what about Tan? Assuming Tan is not Non's brother, would his parents let him move schools to the school where all those nasty kids who keep appearing on the news study??? I don't think so. Sounds dangerous. Things change, of course, if Tan is not actually Tan but New.

Non's parents, despite their obvious lack of parenting skills, care about him. He's their son. They'd want to know what happened. And, sure, New getting involved would be terrible for them (bc he's their son and clearly the favourite child and god forbid he wastes his potential studying there bc of Non's failures AGAIN), but if New specifically requested that, would they go against it? Would they go against their talented son and his show of altruism and love for his brother?? Especially when the police are not doing anything and it's just trying to close the damn case??? I don't think so.

Thus: Tan is New.

"But what about his legal name???", I hear you say. "If they're siblings they'll have the same last name!!" And yeah. That's true. Especially in Thailand where most surnames are exclusive to a singular family. But I thin- "What about the age gap??? New is older than Non!! His mom even refers to him as Non's phi!!!" Yes. I know. That's where the spice comes in:

NEW IS ADOPTED.

There, I dropped the bomb. This would mean that, maybe, his legal name wasn't changed from what it originally was. Sure, it could've, since he's now part of a different family but they also could've kept the original surname. Which is likely if New wasn't adopted in a normal fashion.

We have to consider how poor Non's family seems to be. Whether that's a new situation or it has always been like this we don't know. But that's something. Now, I'm not Thai nor do I live in Thailand but from what I read, income does factor a lot into whether or not a family can adopt a child (at least in theory). So I'd assume a poor family would struggle with it. Nevertheless, it seems Thai law puts a lot of value into family ties with the child so, maybe New was someone else's child originally like of a brother or a sister of one of Non's parents. Or maybe something else entirely, I don't know. I don't think it matters that much.

"That still doesn't explain the age gap though. Tan is only 2 months older than Non!!"

Well, that's still older. Would that qualify him as "phi", idk? Both Pimpa (Non and New's mother) and Non refer to him that way. But maybe that's just another way for the series to tell us there's a ver clear hierarchy between these brothers and Non comes second. Idk. (if you're Thai or know Thai culture well and would like to add input here, pls do)

"WHAT ABOUT THE PICTURES, DANTE???"

Ok, yeah, I know. They make a compelling case.

(I took the liberty to brighten them bc OMG WHY IS THIS SHOW SO DARK????)

And yes, in the picture further to the left it does seem like they have a huge age gap but also, in the picture right next to it, it doesn't seem so (in fact the kid in blue seems about the same age in both pics, only the other one doesn't). So maybe the kid in pic one is not Non, it's some other kid (could be, especially considering he's wearing blue and, as the fandom's most dear colour theorist @shannankle has pointed out on a lot of posts but most especially this one: Non's colour is red). Or maybe it is one of them and they just grew up at different paces, idk. It happens, man.

TBH I'm not greatly concerned about the pics. What I am concerned about is the narrative implications of this. That his parents's (and, as previously established, especially his mother's [who is the most present parent in his life, as stated by the parents themselves in ep.8])

favourite kid is the one who isn't even theirs by blood. That their favourite son is the one that is not actually their son (I obviously do believe adopted kids are as much people's kids as biological ones, family is made not inherited, but I mean this as strictly talking about the blood relations of these people)! That no one ever loves Non enough to actually save him from doom (bc, like a fairytale princess, the thing that could prevent Non's demise was love).

If his peers had loved him enough he wouldn't have felt the need to cling to that awful gang. If Jin had loved him enough he would've helped him get away from Tee in this episode, at the very least. If his parents had loved him enough, they would've prevented him from falling prey to so many people or, at least, would've been trustworthy for him to talk to and helped him get out of the situations he was getting himself into.

This would also play well with the character's names:

Non. That which/whom isn't.

Who isn't seen, who isn't heard, who isn't loved, who isn't perfect, who isn't who people expected him to be, who isn't the gang's friend, who isn't his parent's perfect son (not blaming him but that's how they see it), who isn't the boyfriend Phee hoped he would be (not blaming him for the sexual assault he suffered, just seeing it through Phee's eyes, pls don't misinterpret).

New. That which/whom is fresh, original. That which just arrived.

Who is a prodigy, a talent, one of a kind. Who is so different from Non and his "crooked ways". Who arrived at the family later. Who just arrived in Thailand, who just arrived in Non's school. Who is a new person, who has a new identity, who has a new life goal.

So, yeah, it is a bit crazy and depends on a lot of circumstantial and potential facts that have not been hinted towards AT ALL by the show. And I recognize that. But I think this is what is fun about theories and speculation and, even if this is not true (likely), I still had fun crafting this and showing it to you guys. At the very least it's entertaining and keeps us thinking.

Pls feel free to add stuff or question stuff in this post, I'd love for us to work together as a community for our little murder gays show. Hehe.

Also, I'll leave you a question myself: if this is true, does it mean Phee and Tan are working together as the killers, only one of them is killing or neither is committing murder? 🤔

#dff #dff the series #dead friend forever #dead friend forever the series #dff theory #dff the series theory #dead friend forever theory #dead friend forever the series theory #dff ep 8 #dff the series ep 8 #dead friend forever the series ep 8 #dead friend forever ep 8

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