#yes iv watched some of the snakes paw
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clockworkreapers · 21 days ago
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100% believe you should work with the author of tftg to put out a graphic novel
Bdjskdhjsjd I wish.
A good handful of people on paingravy have said the same thing. Id love to do something like "officially sanctioned by Jack" if gotten the chance to cuz like I do enjoy his work quite a bit and this weird spooky universe specifically (wow who could have guessed). Alas I am also extremely like in my own lane and bad at putting myself put there and actually quite socially awkward.
But I'd still love to do that if the opportunity arose.
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queenaeducan-writes · 3 years ago
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Stories of Thedas IV
Featuring: Thora Cadash
I’m abandoning this project and deleting it off AO3 because thanks to the bot glitch it now has the most kudos I’ve received legitimately on any work. My frustration about that has honestly killed my desire to keep working on it, but I like enough of some of the prompts to save them here!
I’ll try again in Volume V!
I. Baking
Thora licks her thumb before she turns the page, like a scholar in an apron, her hands peppered white with flour instead of dust. Every time, she licks her hand, even when her thumbprint still bears the faint shine from the last time. It’s a little thing, but it makes her real. Like she’d seen someone do it once and thought that must be how the important people did it. Sera doesn’t stop her, just leans over and pins her finger against the page. “What about this one?” she asks, underlining the recipe’s title for emphasis. “No fuss, no nuts.”
II. Nug
“What happened to him?”
The wrangler shrugs, and he’s right to. It’s a stupid question and Thora knows it, but curiosity begged she ask it, anyway. “It’s a hungry world, Inquisitor. This one’s lucky- most lose more than an arm.” She rests her chin in her hand as she watches the nug mill about the pen, stopping to investigate a wayward stalk of breakfast that had escaped its siblings’ notice. It took it by its teeth before it sat up, single paw grasping the end to feed it past its teeth. “It’s a shame, really. That breed always goes for more, guess I’ll have to sell him at a discount.”
She bristles, keeping her face turned to hide her sudden sour expression. Her focus remains on the nug instead, now joined by a sandy-coloured sister eager to groom the food from his face despite his squeals of protest. “How much were you thinking?”
III. Packing
For the fifth time that hour, Thora Cadash reaches for her bag.
She has so little to bring with her, it seems foolish to inventory it again, but it pushes back against the heart in her throat and right now she’ll do anything to keep herself calm. The first leg of their journey is mere hours away, and she won’t have them delayed on her account. They’d waited long enough for her while she wasted in a cell, or on a bed. The leather flap of her bag lands lighter on the table than she’s used to, the hidden pockets no longer laden with a smuggler’s toolkit. Bright red potions, shinier than the sort the apostates she ran with back in the Free Marches (but just as foul-tasting, she assumes), are secured to the sides with leather straps. If she had the stomach to eat, bread and cheese were wrapped in the softest corner of the bag, alongside the tart Flissa had given her the night before. She has the clothes to brave the snowy march down the mountain and face the fast-approaching fall, though standing in Haven it’s still August in the rest of Thedas. Yes, it seems she has everything, as it had the last five times she checked. There’s just one more thing…
Thora takes a book from the table, handling the well-worn spine carefully. Each time she packs it ends in a different place, uncertain if it belongs, but the weight in her hand steadies her heart behind its cage. It falls open in her hand to the passage she needs most, over the years the shape of the book had grown sympathetic to the passages she reread the most, and it greets her like an old friend:
Never surrender Dwarvish blood may be lukewarm But vital as ore
She breathes out through the time it takes her to read it, tempo matching the beat her ancestors penned years ago. The book finds its home in her bag again, this time slotting in the pockets meant only for her eyes, and this time it stays.
The first fingers of dawn breach the sky over Haven, and Thora is awake to greet it. Pink scatters through the broken heavens, dancing with the tendrils that snaked from the Breach, like oil and water in the air.
IV. Memories
The brand steps uncertainly through the aisles, footsteps light, as though her presence here might render the memories that surrounded her to dust. A few years ago, Czibor might have agreed, but King Bhelen had proved Orzammar strong enough to weather Casteless in their midst, and then some. At least this one acts with the appropriate deference.
“Is there something specific you’re looking for, Inquisitor?” he asked as she turns a circle.
She spins back to look at him, heels pressed together like a soldier stood at attention. “No,” she answers, hurriedly, “no, at least not yet. I’m just- looking. I never thought I’d be standing here, of all places.”
In that they are agreed. ‘Cadash’ was a ghost of a name until the day she stumbled from the human sky, but the woman before him is no ghost. When she steps, even quietly as she does, the echo of her ancestors reverberates through the Stone.
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goatpaste · 4 years ago
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WC design/headcannon/ect masterlist- Part A
just a list of ALL my designs for headcanons, maybe some design updates, any other comments or AU ideas i have. on main characters and characters with no plot!
These are all the cats who name starts with ‘A’, posting these in alphabetical order to not overload just one list lol
all under the cut >:3
Acorn Fur
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my Acorn Fur design changed slightly as she used to be more red saturated and i wanted her to not so much like my Red Claw Design
My biggest Headcanon for her is she absolutely didn’t listen to Moth Flight and ended up giving birth to two kit’s with Red claw as the father. they names are Rain Stone and Oak Stump 
Acornpaw
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Acornpaw, ancient skyclan warrior
i like the idea of Acornpaw is a decedent of Acorn Fur and one of the last generations of her family that would remember her name
A warrior name i think would be nice for him is Acorndrop
Acorntail
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Acorntail, ancient windclan deputy.
i can imagine he was named the way he was being smallest in his litter, losing his tail to a rabbit trap when he’s older
acorntail stick with being deputy for awhile but i can see either he even after training an apprentice can’t keep up with the duties and once again insist that Morningcloud is made deputy. oR acorntail becoming leader as Acornstar and morningcloud or her apprentice Quickpaw being made his deputy 
Adderkit
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Adderkit, starclan kit who used to live in windclan and died by adder bite, named for it and was avanged by tallstar 
I imagine Adderkit was originally named Burrowkit born to Ashfoot and Deadfoot in their first litter with Eaglekit. Adderkit died on Windclans Journey to find a home after shadowclan chased them out.
Adderkit was very young when they died i picture their memory of their living life being EXTREMELY blurry, they know their windclan and they died by an adder. its why they renamed themself, and they barely remember who their mom and dad were.
Adderpaw
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Adderpaw, ancient windclan apprentice who was around to the apprentice age limit code
Adderpaw was name for what a good few other ‘adder’ and snake named kits are named for, their tail wiggling around with its patterns look like that of a skinny snake.
Adderpaw Warrior name ideas, Addergrace or Addersnag
Algernon
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not much to say beyond i think my design for him looks very funny lol
but my design for him is that he is leucistic
Applefrost
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Applefrost, kid of appledusk and reedshine
Named after her piece of shit dad, and raised on one sided stories of him she loved her dad and wanted to be like him as she got older.
She was the first victim of Mapleshade’s hauntings, picking her because she was named after the man who hurt her family and she looks a bit like him. 
(applefrost isn’t normally greying on the bottom naturally, this is a side effect on spending so many years training one on one with mapleshade in the dark forest. My crookedstar design also has this) Applefrost knows the name mapleshade and was skeptic to talk to her at first, but opened up and tries to just take what advice she can get from the spirit. Even coming to sympathies with her through learning the truth of her father. 
Then one day Mapleshade stopped visiting her, thought Applefrost would never know what happened, there is a reason.
Applefrost was full grown, and so kind even in the face of the warrior who killed her father. And she looked so much like him, yes he ruined her life but maybe this was the price she payed for what she did, to forever feel pain over the lose of someone who didn’t love her. 
It was part that, and part..something about the way she looked at mapleshade, and something she said sent her memories flying back to her little petalkit who looked so much like her. 
Mapleshade would stop visiting applefrost and move on to another generation of their family. 
Applefrost would never tell her siblngs of mapleshade, but would come to disown her own father in starclan. even being friends with petalkit.
Applepaw
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daughter of breezepelt and heathertail
mostly in here because i needed to up date her design
she hasn’t received her warrior name yet but should be close in the books
but a name like Applebite or Appleleaf
Ashfoot
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Ashfoot,  windclan warrior, deputy and mother of crowfeather
i absOLUTLY love ashfoot
i picture her to be a very like ‘badass warrior mom’ she give tough love and you can’t help but totally admire her. She loves her son crowfeather, though if she is honest he tends to disappoint her with how he kinda doesn’t know how to behave
she gets followed around by herds of kits who want to be like her, and her past apprentice’s (which she has many of) call her sheriff (or mom, which is embarrassing but common and crow HATES it) 
Her and Deadfoot are VERY lovey dovey, she loves her sweet husband dearly and was distraught when he died. They were best friends growing up as apprentices together and were both name ‘foot’ in sign they always walked paw and paw, being well synced in battle and in life, they were just perfect for each other. so its easy to imagine when Deadfoot died it was like she lost half of herself
Ashfoot has a very long tail, just oh so slightly shorter than talltail, her family is known for their long tail (a trait passed down through being descended of windstar) Long tails are often called a symbol of power or royality in windclan. its very diserable and only tallstar’s tail was longer than hers. Her son crowfeather, and grandson jayfeather both take after thing ten fold with tails you could trip 10 cats with. breezepelt has a longer tail than average but no were near as long as theirs and it dOES kinda make him mad.
Ashfoot also loVES nightcloud, at first when crowfeather told his mom that nightcloud was having his kit’s she was super skeptical, not of nightcloud but of their relationship. she just saw right through it for what it really was. so she mostly didn’t talk to nightcloud for the two month’s she was pregnant, as to avoid getting involved.
but when Nightcloud gives birth and all of her kits but breezepelt die and she is DISTRAUGHT. Crowfeather isn’t helping and doesn’t seem to find any words that comfort her or not make her more upset, so like a big ol man child he turns to his mom and begs her to calm down nightcloud.
and its this moment that Ashfoot find’s herself completely bonded to Nightclouds side, looking at the dark she-cat crying over her lost kittens with her single son mewling for her. Ashfoot herself has had two litters both that only had one survivor, Eaglekit’s litter (eaglekit only made it to paw before he died) and now all she has is crowfeather. Ashfoot stay’s by the queens side and comforts her new daughter in law. 
Ashfoot and Nightcloud are close, even when her and crowfeather ultimately don’t work out. 
Ashfur
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dont have much for him i guess
i hate him lol
i like him more than most other boy cats that i hate lol
he’s just a lil piss baby
iv updated his design a good bit, i thought his old design was really bleh but i havent been able to touch it up till now
i defiantly think him and brambleclaw shoulda been gay
i dont like him with squirrel, BUT if they’de been closer in age i think he and squirrel before ashfur became a fuckin crazy person they would have been better togeather than her and bramble that i don’t understand why she went back to bramble even if she didn’t get with ashfur
alsO i think the only ‘au’ i can like get into is like
Dustpelt mysteriously disappeared, presumed dead by thunderclan and never to be known what happened. Except between him and Ferncloud. id loVe a narrative of Ashfur kills dustpelt after watching the full grown warrior and mentor reefer to Ferncloud as beautiful, finding the behavior absolutely repulsive. Maybe ashfur ends up killing a few other cats who are like this and Ferncloud knows he killed dustpelt but maybe not the others. and it all ends up coming spilling out in the fire, this moment of the three and squirrel learn what he did but now he knows what they did, so their at a stale mate. but ashfur is becoming loser and more erratic in his behavior and hollyleaf kills him before he does something dangerous. 
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biillyhargroves · 5 years ago
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Fluff prompt! Billy survives Starcourt and Steve visits him in the hospital, bringing some silly stuffed animal or whatnot that Billy begrudgingly adores (almost) as much as his boyfriend.
i and love and you(fic requests open)
It was an impulse buy.
Steve had been in the waiting room, pacing back and forth and back and forth as double doors opened to doctors beelining toward waiting families. Joyce had sent Jonathan and Will home with Nancy and Mike, herself and El lingering to see the chief. Lucas and Erica had been picked up by their frantic parents rather quickly. Dustin stayed with Steve as long as he could, but soon enough his mother swooped in with a million questions and tearstained cheeks. Robin, for her part, had called her parents and told them that she was fine and that she was staying to support a friend. They had wanted her home, but she managed to buy a few hours time with the promise that she’d call with updates. In between check-ins, she made vending machine runs while Steve stared at the operating suite doors and Max attempting, for the fifteenth time, to reach her mother. 
When Susan and Neil Hargrove finally showed up, Neil fuming and ready to lay into the police still milling about the waiting room compiling statements and Susan fretting and fussing over Max, Steve secluded himself in the corner. 
“You okay?” Robin asked him, plopping down and tossing a bag of peanut M&Ms in his lap.
“I don’t know,” Steve mumbled. 
“Is that his gold star family?” Robin asked, jutting her chin toward the Hargroves. Neil was shouting at a young police officer while Susan tried to get him to back off and Max sat cross-legged in an uncomfortable plastic chair, watching the doors the way Steve had been and perking up at every doctor and nurse that walked by. 
“Yup,” Steve sighed. “They’re aces.”
“They look it,” Robin said. They both got quiet, and Steve fiddled with the bag of candy in his lap. Robin watched him for a few silent moments before she said, “You want to take a walk?”
One look back at Neil Hargrove filled Steve with the immediate need to run, and so he said yes, and they found themselves wandering toward the gift shop with all of its Indiana keychains and get well balloons.  Steve had absently plucked the little teddy bear off a shelf as he walked, not fully realizing he was holding it until Robin pointed it out.
“You gonna give that your boyfriend, Casanova?”
“What?”
“The bear, dingus.”
“Oh.” Steve had shoved it back on the nearest shelf, feeling somehow embarrassed to be caught with it, but Robin scooped it right back out with a smile that looked some shade of sincere. It was a little brown bear with Get Well Soon embroidered in white thread on its right foot. It wore the somber expression of all stuffed animals and its little paws touched over its chest. Robin pushed it into Steve’s hands.
“You should buy it,” she said. “He’ll like it.”
“You don’t know Billy.”
“Maybe not,” she shrugged, “but it’ll make him think of you.”
And so, on a whim and Robin’s encouragement, Steve paid for the little bear. 
The Hargroves were gone when Steve and Robin returned to the waiting room. The cops were, too, and so were all the government officials mixed among them. Steve and Robin parked themselves in the same two chairs and shared bags of vending machine candy until the Hargroves bustled past them, Max dropping a note written on a stolen Post-It note as they did. 
ICU. Rm 185. Sedated. Stable. 
“You don’t have to stay,” Steve told Robin, but she shook her head.
“You’re my ride,” she told him. “Take as long as you need.”
And so Steve snuck past the recovery rooms and the nurse’s station outside the Intensive Care Unit with the little bear in hand. Room one eighty-five was in the back corner of the unit, and Steve slipped inside as the nurses checked in on other patients. 
The first thing Steve noticed, after his eyes adjusted to the dark, was how small Billy looked. There were tubes and wires attached to him- there was a mask over his mouth and nose and wires stuck to his chest, IV lines snaked around his arm. The bed itself seemed to swallow him whole, blankets piled on top of him, cover up any inch that wasn’t already wrapped in bandages and gauze. The sight of him made Steve’s heart sink. 
“Shit,” he whispered. He stared at Billy for a long while, right up until he heard a nurse walking by the room and had to duck into the corner so that she wouldn’t see him. When he was sure he was safe, he crept to Billy’s bedside and sat down. He gingerly touched Billy’s hand, terrified that any contact might hurt him, and he blinked away the tears that he knew Billy would mock him for if he were awake. “I, uh...I got you something,” Steve said softly. He looked down at the bear still clutched in his free hand. “It’s stupid. I know you’ll make fun of it. But, I don’t know...A friend told me...It’s not important. I just wanted you to have something from me.”
Steve left the bear with Billy that night, and the next morning Max covered him by swearing that she had given the bear to Billy. It sat on the windowsill of Billy’s room in the ICU, and then later in the medical-surgical unit. It had caught Billy’s eye once he was moved, and Max told him that Steve had gotten it for him. He’d scoffed and called Steve a dork, and Max pretended not to see the soft blush that crept into her brother’s cheeks. When Billy was finally discharged, he made Max grab the bear for him. 
He’d never mentioned anything about it to Steve, and Steve had been too embarrassed to ask him about it. Max had told him that she explained everything to him, that Steve had visited him every night and that he wanted Billy to have the bear so that he’d think of him, but Billy never brought it up with Steve, so Steve left it alone, too. He left it alone and pretended not to see it tucked onto a shelf in Billy’s bedroom. It sat there among cassette tapes and empty cigarette boxes, never moved. 
Years later, as they are moving boxes into the apartment they could finally afford, Steve found the bear in a box with a framed photograph of Billy with his mother and a Metallica record that Max had once given him for his birthday. He’d nearly forgotten about the bear. He hadn’t seen it in years, not since Billy had healed enough to start venturing outside his house and they resumed their nighttime sneaking at the Harringtons’. He was sure that Billy had gotten rid of it, that it would be thrown away with the junk he purged while moving. 
Steve carried the little bear from the bedroom to the living room, where Billy was swearing at the coffee table he was trying- and failing -to build.
“You kept this?” Steve asked him, holding up the bear.
“Kept what?” Billy snipped, sounding annoyed. He looked up with furrowed brows, but his features softened when he saw the stuffed animal in Steve’s hands. He made a sound that was something like a sigh and something like a laugh and he shook his head. “No shit, I kept it,” he said.
“I thought you��d think it was...I don’t know, corny or something.”
“It is corny,” Billy said. He turned his attention back to the coffee table, the leg of which Steve was sure he’d snap if the screw didn’t go in right this time. “You’re corny,” Billy mumbled. “That’s why I kept it.” 
“Yeah?” Steve asked. “Really?”
“You gonna make me say it?” Billy asked, still not looking at him. 
“Say what?” Steve said, genuinely dumbfounded. Billy glanced up at him from his spot on the floor.
“That I love you and your stupid bear, idiot.”
And maybe his words were a little harsh. Maybe Billy was a little rough around the edges. But he loved Steve, and he carried that stupid little Get Well Soon teddy bear around for years because he loved Steve, and that is all that mattered.
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littlemissvincentvega · 5 years ago
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what about a smut with orange where you’re one of the dogs and all of y’all are at a hotel for a heist and you guys sneak into each other’s rooms 👀
YAAAAY thank u honeeeeey i love this ideasklasjdlkcasj. ive done ti as if the hotel is the target also reader is mrs blue bc he’s irrelevant x jokes but also yeah
hope u n joy!! 💖💖
It’s a stupidly cold evening in California, and you & the boys have just checked into your hotel. The morning ahead is one of importance– Joe had sent you all on a mission to clear the place of any petty cash you can get your paws on. But that was for tomorrow. Of course you’d been given fake IDs to use, provided by the Cabots, and you tuck yours into your inner pocket. “I can’t wait to freshen up,” you sigh, walking alongside Mr. Pink, talking more to yourself than him. He answers you regardless.
“I don’t blame ya, you look like a rat’s asshole.”
“Thanks, Pink.”
Brown snickers and runs to keep up with you, beginning to walk backwards in front of you, facing you as he speaks. “I think you look pretty as ever, Blue,” he remarks.
“Well, thank you, sweetie, at least somebody’s got some manners around here,” you smirk, elbowing Pink gently. He rolls his eyes.
Orange hadn’t said a word, but he hadn’t heard the exchange. He’s trailing behind alongside White & Blonde, taking in the beauty of the hotel– he thought it was a shame there might be blood spattered about the following morning. Anything could happen where Blonde was involved, all of you knew that. But Eddie always insists he’s trustworthy, just a little haywire at times, so you guys have to go along with it.
All of you pile into the elevator, Pink stepping in last (everyone had shoved past him, including Brown). He watches as White presses the buttons for the second floor and frowns a little. “Is it absolutely necessary for us to take the fuckin’ elevator? To the second floor?”
Orange narrows his eyes at him slightly. “Nobody said you had to join us. Take the stairs if you’re that bothered.”
“No.”
You & Orange share a look and suppress a laugh as the elevator doors close. It’s a really tight squeeze, but you won’t complain– being tightly squeezed with a bunch of handsome thieves? Not something to complain about, not in your books.
A quick twenty seconds or so later and you’re on the second floor. Orange had nudged you on the way up to watch him. A playful twinkle is in his eye and you’re excited to see what shit he’s going to pull. Sure enough, as the elevator doors ping open once again, he kicks Pink out by the ass and hits the ‘close doors’ button, causing an eruption of laughter in the shaft. “Asshole!!” Pink splutters– if there had been an opportunity to kick the shit out of Orange, he would have taken it in a heartbeat.
“Orange!!” you giggle, slapping his arm. Blonde seems to have found it the most funny– he’s bent over double, clutching his knees. The sad sight of Pink scrambling about on the floor had really gotten him. 
Orange has a grin wiped across his stupid face, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. “What? He deserved it.”
“I mean, true–”
“He did deserve it, Blue,” Brown points out, still giggling.
You sigh in defeat, smiling. “Fine! Chill, you guys.”
-
Dinner rolled around and the six of you had met up in the restaurant area for a nice meal (on Joe, of course). Nice meal meant a nice meal, so all of you had gotten a little dressed up for the occasion. You’re in a black velvet dress that hugs you in all the right places, accompanied by some little pearl earrings and black low heels. The boys are in their usual suits & ties, all looking incredibly handsome (what’s new?).
Being the dad of the group, Mr. White had spoken to the front-of-house man and requested a table. You all trail after him and, before White could get there, Orange helps you into your seat like a true gentleman. “Thanks,” you smile, watching as he sits beside you.
To sum dinner up, it really had just consisted of Pink squinting at his grazed elbow and bitching about it, Brown forgetting what the fuck he was droning on about, Blonde smoking like a chimney, White scolding Pink and Orange? Well, he had been stealing glances at you when he wasn’t joking with you about dumb shit. The two of you had been sharing giggles every single time Pink brought up his elbow and sharing looks of disbelief every time Brown forgot what he’d been saying. It’s safe to say it was a fun dinner. Amusing.
-
Orange stands in front of the bathroom mirror, hands clutching the sink as he frowns into his own eyes. “Just… just go there, tell’er you’re bored, ask to watch TV with’er,” he hisses at himself. “Don’t pussy out, just do it, don’t think, do.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing his floppy fringe off of his forehead, mulling it over. 
-
You’re just standing watching TV with your toothbrush in your mouth when there’s a knock at the door. Who the fuck could that be?
With a sigh, you saunter over and, toothbrush poking out the corner of your mouth, tentatively open the door. “Blue– oh, shit, are you busy?” It’s Orange.
“What does it look like? No,” you laugh, almost relieved that he’s in his pyjamas too. He seems the most sane out of the guys, and you enjoy his company– not to mention the eye candy. “One sec– come in,” you tell him, skipping to the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste foam into the sink.
After rinsing your mouth out, you return to the room and sit on the bed, patting in front of you. He obliges, eyes glued to the TV. “What’cha watchin’?” he asks.
“Some western, I don’t know.”
He fiddles with the duvet and your eyes narrow just a little bit at him. Not in suspicion… rather curiosity. “Why’d you come here?” you ask, hugging a pillow in your lap.
Orange shrugs. “Bored. Wanted nice company.”
“You’re worried about the heist tomorrow?”
He presses his lips together. “A little.”
“It’s normal, you don’t need to be,” you assure him with a smile, shifting to lay on your back then pressing a poke to his arm. “You only live once, right? Go crazy. We’ll be fine!”
His eyes drift down to your chest as you poke him. You’re in your pyjamas, true, but they’re baby pink satin booty shorts & matching strappy top. It’s a nice view for him, that’s for sure. A slight smirk grows on your lips as he snaps his gaze back up to your eyes, cheeks turning pink. He hopes you didn’t see, but he knows you did. “Enjoying the view, Mr. Orange?” you tease, sniggering quietly.
Orange hesitates for a moment– he could die tomorrow. So right now he could be a pussy and apologise or he could see where this takes him. The second option seemed better. “Uh-huh.” A childish grin appears on his lips upon realising you approve of him looking.
“Wanna see more?”
His brows arch and he runs his tongue along his upper lip at the thought. “I mean– yeah?”
You giggle at his nervousness and promptly lift your top up, gauging his reaction– it’s priceless. His eyes widen and inhibitions take over as he moves his hands to grope your breasts, palms grazing your already-hard nipples. “They’re just as I imagined ‘em,” he chuckles, a few strands of his fringe flopping over his eyes. 
That oh-so lovely feeling of your pussy beginning to arouse becomes apparent as his cold palms tease your nipples, getting them harder, sending shivers through your body. “Mm,” you breathe approvingly, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a desperate kiss. Orange quickly melts into it, nose buried into your face beside your own.
“Is this… allowed?” he grins against your lips, going in for another kiss before you get a chance to respond– he’s joking, anyway, you can tell. Joe doesn’t need to know about this, and Eddie sure as hell doesn’t, along with the rest of the guys.
A few more kisses and you gently push him away, motioning for him to lay on his back. He does so, and you straddle him, beginning to slowly grind against his semi-hard cock. “You wanna know something, Orange?” you grin, enjoying the way he’s ogling at your tits.
“Mm?”
“I’ve wanted us to fuck since Joe hired you.”
You feel him harden at that fact beneath you, and he grins. “Feeling’s mutual, babygirl.”
“Good,” you breathe, snaking your hands up & down your torso, pinching your nipples and letting your tits drop, gauging his reactions. “You like?”
“I love.” You know he does– his cock’s giving it all away. God, how had it taken this long for you two to actually do something as simple as kissing? 
Eventually, the teasing had become too much for the both of you, evident by the wet patch you have going on down there. “Get on your back,” he pipes up, unusually dominant in his tone. It’s exciting to hear him like this– he’s generally quiet in exchanges with everyone else.
You stare at him in silence for a split second before answering, “Yes, Daddy,” and laying on your back where he points. Smirking, Orange gets up off of the bed, stroking himself through his pyjama bottoms at the sight of you. You watch as he removes his shirt, letting it drop to the floor, and does the same with his bottoms– of course he’s not wearing any underwear, and you practically drool at the sight of him. He’s hung. 
“You like?” he teases, mimicking you from before, and you giggle, nodding.
“Uh-huh, I love.”
That’s all he needs to hear– he steps in front of you, and you spread your legs in the air for him, bending your knees. Your pussy’s aching for him. He lets his fingertips trail over your inner thighs, gliding once over your wet patch. An involuntary whimper escapes your lips as you gaze up at him desperately, begging for his cock with your eyes. “I know what you want,” he smiles softly, taking your pyjama shorts in his hands. You straighten out your legs so he can slide them off, and he lets them drop to the floor, marvelling at the grool stuck to your thighs. His cock twitches at the sight and he promptly lines himself up, your knees bent once again. “I’ll pull out.”
You nod, feeling your clit throb for him, and he slowly pushes himself into you, letting out a groan of relief. His left hand is firmly holding your waist, right hand gripping above your left knee as he begins to steadily fuck you, working up a nice pace for you both. “You like it, baby? You like when I fuck you?” he taunts, eyes half-lidded.
“Mm–”
“Good,” he interrupts, voice low and sexed-up. Groaning, Orange leans forward and presses a rough kiss to your lips, still fucking you. He’s into it and you can tell he’s imagined it a hundred different times. 
You whine against his lips as he deepens the kiss– it becomes less patient and more sloppy, breath mingling in a frenzy of lust. “Daddy,” you squeak in between kisses, running your fingers through his mop. “Oh, Orange..”
“S’Freddy,” he growls into your ear, not giving a fuck anymore. He wants to hear you moan his name– fuck Joe’s rules. “Name’s Freddy.”
Your clit tingles at the fact that he’s just given you that information– it doesn’t seem like much but if Joe ever finds out he’d go ballistic. “Freddy,” you breathe, chuckling out a smile, “you’re– you’re a good fuck.” You can’t help but stumble on your words they’re so truthful, and he snickers along with you, standing upright again.
“So’re you, babygirl,” he smirks, pausing briefly to speak his words before starting to fuck you again, admiring the way your tits jiggle with every thrust. He’s going harder now, fringe flopping over his face as he looks down at you. His eyes are practically devouring you– they’re completely different to normal. Determined, dominant and lustful. “Thaaat’s a good girl,” he praises, voice still low, and you whine at him in contentment.
You’re completely under his spell, on your back on the edge of that bed, legs in the air, taking his cock, him holding you in place. And he’s under yours. You can tell by the look in his eye and the smirk on his lips, though even moreso by the grunts he’s producing. “Baby,” he groans, running his thumb along your lip, letting you suck on it. “I’m close.”
“Mm, me too, Daddy,” you whimper, continuing to suck on his thumb. He likes that, and shifts his hand so you can suck on his fingers while he watches. 
His thrusts get a little slower but deeper, more determined, and he takes his fingers from your mouth and brings them down, rubbing your clit. “Tell Daddy it feels good, baby.”
“It--” you shiver, itching to cum, “--it feels amazing, Daddy..”
“Mm, good.” Freddy watches your face closely, and the corners of his mouth turn up as you begin twitching, orgasm fast-approaching. You let it wash over you and grip the duvet, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it, quickly pulling out to dump his load on your stomach, marvelling at the way you squirm. He grunts through his own, lazily jerking himself, squinting down at you. 
Laughing a little nervously, he lets himself gently collapse beside you, propping himself up with his elbow. “Well, uh-- that was nice,” he comments, letting his fingertips trail down your side.
You roll over to face him, shifting to lay more comfortably on your side. “It really was, Mr. Orange,” you tease. His lips spread into a rather embarrassed grin-- he can’t believe he fucking told you his name. 
“Don’t tell--”
“Joe? Freddy, if I tell Joe, he’ll demand to know just how the fuck I found out... then we’ll both be in trouble,” you laugh. It’s a laugh of sincerity, and it reaches your eyes. He can tell-- a relieved exhale escapes his lips, accompanied by a smile of the same feeling.
“Thanks.”
You lean over to press another kiss to his lips, pushing him onto his back, hoisting your leg over one of his. A smile, and you pull away just a bit. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m (Y/N).”
He blinks and smiles. “(Y/N),” he repeats, nodding ever-so slightly. “S’a pretty name, baby.”
“Thanks,” you beam, pressing a warm kiss to his cheek.
-
An hour or so later (you’d spent a little while in bed cuddling, droning on, just talking about life) and he’s standing in your doorway in his pyjamas once again. “So, uh, Blue...”
“Mm? Orange?” A smirk.
He laughs, ducking his head, hair flopping in his face, then looks at the ceiling. “I forgot what I was gonna say now.”
“Good, ‘cause I have a question, Mr. Orange.”
“Yeah? Go ahead.”
You smile, looking off to the side. “I was thinking-- we could make this a regular thing. Spend a night like that together before the jobs Joe puts us on,” you trail, rocking on your heels a little.
A lightbulb appears above his head and he nods, laughing again. “That’s what I was gonna fuckin’ say-- I just forgot, you distracted me. Callin’ me ‘Mr. Orange’.” Another chuckle, and he nods again. “Yeah, I’d love to.”
You pull him in for one last kiss, him gently rubbing your waist. “G’night, Freddy,” you whisper.
“Night, (Y/N).”
With that, he disappears down the hall back to his own hotel room, collapsing onto his own bed to think about the night’s events. Jesus-- maybe the criminal life was for him after all. Maybe he’d have to fuck over the LAPD. Who knows...?
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pinkpoundcake · 6 years ago
Text
DESERT DEVIL
CH. 5  FROM THE MEADOW
All Might/ Reader as Female OC
NSFW AU
7K+ Words
Here we go! Finally. I had to pause and do quite a bit of research for this one. I’m pretty happy with the chapter, but I’ll go back and catch some mistakes later! I’ve been coloring in PS and typing  on GoogleDocs all day so my eyes are tired and won’t catch much. We’ll be taking off from here. I’ll warn that there’s no smut in this chapter, but you can anticipate some for the next. It was just out of place, sorry, lmao. 
I’m not sure of the next time I’ll be updating, but you can anticipate sometime next week. Thank you if you stop by! All Chapters are in my desert devil tag. 
I.
“You may not like this, but you all have to understand! It's for the best.”
The crowd erupted into irritated chatter and groans. This was one of those stressful downsides to using your quirk in this way. It would be easier for you to be the conduit for translation, if so many different kinds of minds weren't giving you so much feedback. Speaker, you, all the joined hands in the crowd. All the joined hands in the crowd, you, the speaker. So many different minds you had to help understand.
Your eyebrows tensed hard enough for muscles to spasm beneath your horns. You were bearing a lot of stress, and your main client, the mayor, hadn't picked up on that yet. His little, white paw was still clutched around your first two fingers while you kneeled down on the soap box next to him. Aizawa had taken your other hand, and then his other hand was linked to the next person. Like one big, unhappy pow-wow. Now, the Mayor, he was so eager to console his constituents, you didn't have the heart to tell him his time was almost up.
“How is that any fair?!” Your eyes were clamped closed. You recognized that voice, but you didn't have the head-space to pin a face. High and kind of whiny. That was probably one of the Inn keeper's daughters.
“The raised fee for violating curfew is incentive, my friends! For all of you to reconsider breaking this protective law. Two hours after sundown, we expect everyone to be locked up, or at least within the bounds of town!” Mayor Nezu responded in his usual chipper tone. His beady black eyes drifted over the crowd of grubby, exasperated faces.  
“A majority of these deaths were discovered far out of the edge of town, you see! And by the fees we've collected these long days and nights, some of you have not taken the previous encouragement seriously!” The Mayor spoke more sternly, though he was still smiling. “If you follow the law, you won't have to pay a hundred pieces, and you won't be ripped apart! How lovely is that!”
“So what are y'all gonna do with all of them extra coins, huh?!” You knew who that was without having to open your eyes. It was this young, plucky fella who always loitered outside the general store eyeing women patrons in their nicest dresses on Sundays. The purple gumdrop always liked to inform you that he didn't mind being around too tall fillies like you, and that always made you wonder where in the goddamn his mother and manners were.
“As always,” Mayor Nezu paused “these fees will be added to our tax well for railroad imports and provisions from Tucson. Public works projects, as well, that will improve our water storage for the future. The budget is always available for a gander at City Hall! I might look like a rat, but I'm no thief, ahahahaha!” You would laugh, too, if you could. He was easy to trust, but the Mayor was strange…
“Please, please, any other q-,” the Mayor blinked with surprise as you yanked your hand away and broke the chain. That was all you could handle. You needed a rest if you still had to hold Sheriff Todoroki's hand for the last portion of the itinerary.
Ah...well, alright. They were going to have a brief recess.
II.
The pounding in your head had subsided a portion. You were glad most folks were distracted with chattering amongst themselves in groups while they allowed you to rest up at the stone edge of the empty, town fountain. You were supposed to let Deputy Aizawa know when you were ready to translate again, which should probably be soon. You didn’t know what time it was, but you could feel the sun rising up higher over your head. It was nice for a little while, but now the bright beams were making your horns uncomfortably hot.
Off to your left, you sensed someone’s shadow sweep over. You thought they were someone in a passing group of gossip, but they stepped a little closer and draped something soft over your head. Your eyes ached, but you cracked one open to see who’d come to pester you. You already had an idea of who it was. “I didn’t think the sun was helping.” Yagi stabbed his cane in the dirt, and then sank down next to you. You heard distinct popping from the joints of his knees. He grunted his same, endearing grunt. This was his usual spot, wasn’t it?
“Thank you. It wasn’t.” You muttered. He understood you couldn’t sound as delighted to see him as you wanted. You sighed and brought his yellow shawl up higher to cover up your forehead and a portion of your eyes. It wasn’t medicine, but it felt and smelled nice.
“I don’t have too much time to talk.” “I understand.” Yagi crossed both of his big, rough palms over the handle of his cane, and then rested his chin over his knuckles. He leaned far and set his eyes on wads of familiar and unfamiliar people still discussing the first half of this morning’s meeting.
“Dove,” Yagi didn’t turn his head, but you could feel his eyes roll back in your direction “are you going to be alright?”
“After a few days of rest, I’ll be fine. I promise.” Yagi’s hands were beneath his chin, so you touched and rubbed his side instead to assure him. Maybe this was a little taboo, but no one was paying attention. He was resisting the urge to move closer. You’d never touched him before, not that he could remember. There was a wonderful heat and softness from your fingers that penetrated the thinned fabric of his shirt, and swept each scarred rib. He felt soothed ( oh yes, he was nervous) , but his intention was for him to comfort you, not the other way around.
“Togo.”
You, almost a little too hastily, tugged yourself from Yagi’s side. As if nothing strange had happened, you stood to your feet, and then gave the older fellow his shawl back. You didn’t know when Deputy Aizawa had approached, or how long the sneaky son of a gun had been standing there. By the look on his face, you could tell he had a certain amount of judgement and disbelief for the both of you. He didn’t have any comment, thankfully. Yagi wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m ready now.” You cleared your throat. Time to hold Mr. Boss-So-Roki’s hand.
III.
Ah, so you and I aren’t going to see eye to eye, boy?
It was a sick joke from a man who had no real eyes. Yagi had ripped them out from the sockets years prior when his heart was broken, and thirsty for revenge. He didn’t regret it. Men who didn’t respect this precious land didn’t deserve to ever take in its beauty.
“You smell like shit, you old fuck.” Yagi loathed to spit acid like a snake, but he deserved every shred of hate contained in his young body on that day.
The Gambler smelled like what he was made of: dirty money and brimstone and mosquito water.
What a nasty bark, you dog!
You look out of sorts, pup. Could it be that arrow you still have there? Here...let me help you pull that out.  
He had liked where Yagi was. Leg mangled. Curled up on the side of the trail like road kill. The vultures were waiting; circling the sun like the grim reaper spun his scythe. That’s what the boy was after all! An animal pretending to be a righteous man.
“DON’T YOU PUT YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON ME.”
And then Yagi was screaming in agony. The Gambler pulled the arrow out nice’n slow, making sure to twist and turn the carved bone of the head into the most sensitive, spewn places. He didn’t like all the mess on his new, priceless equipment, so he found it proper to smear the blood off on Yagi’s already red, enraged face.
Shut up.
Listen very well, dog. Maybe your body can’t die here, but I hope this lesson breaks your spirit like you broke all of my bones.  In stature, it was certain that The Gambler had never healed right. His body was twisted and gnarled like the lichon.  
Yagi did what he had to do after the whole gruesome ordeal was over. He never, ever wanted to kill another man of his own will after that day.   Uh huh…
So, did his spirit ever heal right?
It hurt his heart to try and answer.
IV.
He hated to dream. They weren’t fair. You were supposed to be able to alter your dreams; be whatever you want and do whatever you want. These were all memories he couldn’t do a thing to change. Perhaps he should have been grateful he woke up still clean, and in his own bed this morning. But at what cost…
He needed to stop thinking about it. Yagi had roped up Bell wrong for the second time since he started packing. He rubbed his mule’s neck and she affectionately bumped him on the shoulder with her nose. He didn’t like bringing her so far out from home, because she was his friend, but he had things he had to do as usual. He was going to meet you after he had his student come to watch his property for the two or three weeks you’d be gone. You needed to arrange your own trustworthy house sitter before you both began your long journey.
Yagi had been worried about you the days after the meeting, more than he should have been worried for himself. There was a lot now to consider. He was well aware that you were both lying to each other by omission. You wanted him to track the Devil. If you hadn’t taken the belt buckle back, he probably would have forgotten not to put it on. He hadn’t told you where you were both going for his part of the deal, either, or why he needed you to read. He had advised you on what to pack, and how long you’d be gone, and you just followed the instruction without question.
Did you really trust him that much? You were both traveling alone. In secret. You were lucky law enforcement only patrolled for law breakers, and didn’t go door to door every night. They couldn’t pay enough for all of that.
When he was finally able to meet you, the crown of the sun was starting to peek over the hard, flat line of the horizon. The sky was split in soft streaks of pink and orange. Pretty. There was no wind for haze. The air was still and cool. If only it could stay like this.
“Are you sure you have everything?” Yagi asked you while fixing the girth that strapped his mule to his small, travel cart. He came up to her mouth and made sure the secures there weren’t too tight. She made a quiet, but shrill sound through her nostrils. “I know you don’t like the bit. Be quiet.” The scolding was affectionate and punctuated with a kiss on her nose.
“Yes, and Kissy’s the same way. I think he tolerates it.” He wasn’t raised for riding, but he handled it well enough. Besides, he was the only horse you had.
You were sure you had all you needed. You had rolled up some provisions and plenty of water into your BaBa’s old saddle bags. You really hoped with your combined items, it was all enough. Traveling made you excited and nervous. You hadn’t been outside of town in years. You both had terrible timing, and would probably be in a heap of trouble for giving no notice of leave when you got back. Still, a potentially dangerous journey. And you’d both be alone.
“They all tolerate a lot.” Yagi shrugged his shoulders and sat up on the seat of his cart. “Let’s get moving, quickly!” He boisterously  thumped his closed fist over his chest since neither of you had a rally drum or trumpet.
You wondered if the Devil would lurk the canyon. The thought of you both running into him in the dead of night, or the beast ravaging your camp made your heart jump up somewhere in your gullet.  Yagi must have understood that risk, and he was still taking you to read whatever it was he wanted you to read. You could in fact translate language if you could touch the surface, but it’d been a long while since you’d done so. Most things of importance were printed in English, and a lot of folks couldn’t read no how, so they didn’t bother you.
“Yagi, do you mind telling me where we’re going?” You asked him after mounting. He took off his big brimmed vaquero hat and flipped it upside down. You could see some of your own wool stuck beneath the cap, but what interested you the most was what was embroidered to the underside: a map of the entire valley. Some parts of the thread were old and dirty, but other portions still retained the vibrancy of being freshly stabbed through. You were a little mystified.
”Up north east.” You expected Yagi to produce a compass, but he didn’t. He knew exactly where to go. He’d never been lost before.
“You’ll see, Dove. I won’t lead you astray.” He made a little beat on his chest again and grinned.
“Well...alright. I’m trusting you, sir.” You squeezed Kissy with your heels.
Yee haw! You were both off.
V.
Yagi was puffing out smoke and steam through his nose at the sight of you. His heart was a rumbling, rolling train and he hadn’t finished pounding in all the tracks.  The sun was setting in the distance. Vibrant hues from that sweet goodbye highlighted every plump curve of your naked body. When you turned in the water’s edge and brought your toned arms up above your head, your outlines rippled and writhed in a fog. You shook out your tail like a tambourine, and glistening droplets whipped around your figure.
His dry tongue lolled from the corner of his mouth. Clamoring on all fours, he was clawing the dirt and sand to make it to your mirage. You smiled at him with all your front teeth, and your pretty eyes, and then beckoned him closer with your long fingers. You were emerging from the pool; prowling to meet him halfway. Everywhere your hands and knees touched turned a luscious green.
Almost there… Come here, Come into me, Yagi.
The sun fully disappeared behind the mountains, and the storm clouds swarmed. He was stabbed with daggers of lightning. His big body and hands were all over your soft, fuzzy hide in a monstrous flash. He was pulling your legs apart because now he was long and strong for you. You clamped his waist, clawed his back, and called him by his real name while he was pumping his piston. With his rain and wind and thunder, and your good green earth, he had you. That's right, with your back down in paradise.
Just like he promised.
VI.
“UGH,” Yagi rubbed the faint cut left behind on his forehead. It stung. He had woke with a jolt and hit the side of the rocky perch he’d chosen for the night. You didn’t have a tent, so he let you have his to yourself. A woman, ugh...ow...needed her privacy. He smeared pebbled and already clotting blood on his sleeve. He hadn’t changed his stance on his own dreams.
He was glad you were paces away. It had to be that way. His excuse this time, was that he needed to be a look out for raiders and bandits. That was one thing, but really, he didn’t know when his body was going to change. Dangerous games. Dangerous thoughts. Dangerous dreams. Yagi glanced down at the personal tent pitched in his trousers. Uh...no, he wouldn’t have wanted you to see him like this.
He’d wait to calm down, water the horse and mule, and then wake you. You’d both been traveling for three days, and you had two days of long, hot, dry, travel left.
VII.
When you both finally made it to your destination, the sun was preparing to rise. Yagi was adamant about wanting to push through the night. You had taken such a long break in the afternoon, that it bled into the evening. You had wanted to go back to sleep so badly. You almost fell off of Kissy’s back twice. Yagi, while flustered and spooked, offered to change his mind on the urgency, but you told him it was alright. You just needed to wake up and put up. You were both on a tight schedule.
The clouds were rolling overhead and you wondered (hoped) that they would block the sun or consider banding together for some traveling rain, but they didn't. The trip had gone relatively pain free, it almost made you paranoid. You had to suffer somewhere, and you hoped the continued drought was it.
“Not too much further,” Yagi pushed up his hat and revealed a smile that gave the rising sun a run for its money. For a man who hadn't been sleeping much, he seemed awfully chipper. Dear lady, you had no idea how full of nostalgia he was. The familiar change in terrain gifted him fond and not so fond memories.
“Is that…” you covered a yawn “is that it?” You squinted through the sleepy tears in the corners of your eyes. In the morning haze, you could pick out blocky structures built into the side of a rock face. At another gander, you noticed some fencing holding in several huddled, sheared sheep. Thatched houses peppered the land on the other side of livestock pens and dry, unharvested crops . It didn’t look like a big, busy town, but it was certainly a settlement. It wasn’t too far off from the murky edges of the Colorado River, and the sight of that provided you even more relief. You didn’t know if you had enough water on hand to make it back to Struggler.
“This is it.” Yagi whipped the reins in his excitement and urged his mule on. She wheezed and groaned with some protest, but picked up her pace. You clicked your tongue and bumped Kissy with your heal so he could match speed. You were both kicking up a trail of dust behind you. Being somewhere new made you nervous, but the energy Yagi radiated made you feel more sure. He had his smile on full beam, belting out something incomprehensible at the top of his lungs with your mounts’ hoof-beats. That almost made you pull your draft to a hard halt. Nothing was wrong. No one was coming after the both of you, and he certainly wasn’t hurt. He was going to see his old friend again.
VIII.
There were plenty of times in your life where you felt a little out of sorts. You didn’t feel awkward exactly, just a touch shy. There was a small crowd gathering around Yagi as some reservation dwellers came to properly greet him, or see what the commotion was about. Some natives looked a little on edge, or as unsure as you did, but then the older fellow Yagi was so focused on, finished greeting the sunrise, and then approached. You figured he was probably somewhat in charge, because everyone politely made way for him, or minded themselves and went back to their early tasks. “Aa,” he was grinning from ear to ear just like Yagi was “how are you, my friend? This is a surprise!”
“I’m...well.” Yagi rubbed his neck, and then removed his hat to return the politeness.
“You made quite some noise on the way here! We were worried about a bandits,” the older man’s eyes were wrinkling around the tanned, weathered corners. He was very tall, though not nearly as tall as Yagi, and wore working clothes like the cowboys who traveled far yonder from Texas. You were amazed at the length of his graying hair. It fell behind him in a long cord, and was wrapped up in a braid with bright, crossing threads. He had a lovely, boxy, woven pattern in his shawl that you couldn’t help but eye up, too. Following the loop of his cover, there was a long scar that crossed his neck, and zig zagged down until it was hidden beneath the collar of his shirt. You knew better than to rubber neck that. Didn’t want to be rude.
You felt him sense your wondering eyes, and take a reserved look at you after allowing Yagi to exchange a bow. You were trying and failing to hide behind your big horse. His friend from another land had no one else for company, just you. His bushy brows rose. You assumed your appearance probably surprised, or tickled him. You were used to that, but he was actually assuming something else.
“Aa, this is your wife, Yagi?”
“No, no!” Yagi awkwardly laughed. “This is…” He trailed, trying to think of something that didn’t sound quite as suspicious. “My friend. I brought her here to translate something, if your clan will allow it. We won’t stay for too long, I promise.”
The fellow’s jaw slackened. He brought his hand to his chin. He looked between Yagi, who was anticipating an answer, and then you who were waiting for the same. You came all this way. You hoped that you wouldn’t get turned away and the journey would be for nothing. Whatever Yagi wanted you to read must have been important, or private, if you had to formally ask permission.
“You want to see the old messages? Don’t you?” The other man hummed.
“Yes, I...think it will help me understand.” Yagi had lowered his voice without meaning to.
“Understand what?” You cleared your throat. They were both looking at each other like there was some kind of secret afoot. If you were translating, you were going to know eventually, right? Yagi’s friend frowned at him. This young woman didn’t know? It wasn’t his place to tell you either. It was his request to offer a yes, or a no. “I’m looking to know a little more about this land’s past,” Yagi dug his cane into sand between the toes of his boots. He leaned on it a little, and then brought his still carted mule in closer with his other hand. “There’s some very old language here that a lot of Mustang’s family can’t completely read anymore. His family has been here for quite some time, many many many years,” he had turned his head in your direction while he dropped you this hint “so I’m hoping to find some warnings or helpful superstitions.”
Ah! Now you understood...sort of.  You wondered what Yagi’s interest in the past was, apart from solving the mystery of the Devil, but you didn’t know him well enough to poke and prod that business just yet. Yet. It did make sense, though. More sense than what you were reading. The Devil roamed this land in particular. Should probably consult who’d been here the longest.
“You’re a scholar, young ma’am?” Mustang asked while directing you both to come into the shade and relieve your mounts. By appearances, he wouldn’t have pegged you for someone familiar with his ancient heritage, but then again, when he’d met Yagi, he was quite skeptical of what a stranger would know, too.
“No, sir, it’s my Gift. I can translate speaking and writing if I touch or focus.” You held up your palm to illustrate. His eyes lit up and he clapped his hands once, then twice.
“You’re both blessed with two gifts, then!” Mustang was smiling again. “If you can understand, we will need to accompany you to record. We would like to remember the past, and hopefully our friend here will find what he’s looking for.” Hearing about your gift looked like it was truly a delight, and that made you feel pretty damn special.
“Oh, of course, I don’t mind. I’d be happy to help as long as I get time to rest.” You were trying to wrap your head around something, but Mustang was ushering you both along to where you and Yagi could set up your tent and tether your animals. He trusted Yagi heavily, so he trusted you, if Yagi also considered you a friend in such a sensitive affair. He was already talking about giving word to his family and friends to prepare a hardy meal for Yagi’s return, and then some other things you didn’t quite catch.
You slipped back into your shy sort of self while the two fellows talked on middle ground. You were unloading some items from the saddle bags, and then in the next moment, Yagi was ushered off somewhere else. You got Kissy and Bell somewhere comfortable and in the shade at a stable near to your allotted portion of the settlement. You were thinking about how...different Yagi seemed here while you were watching from afar. He towered over their hosts, readily available to offer his help, or carry things to and fro, even on his bad leg. He cracked jokes with them, and his smile had yet to really let up. He was louder, more open, though he still minded his manners. You were almost a little envious, but you understood. Yagi and Mustang, and some of his siblings have probably known him for years. You wanted to know him like that, too, but for now, you liked that he called you his friend.
After a while of settling, they were picking out sheep for a meal in the dry wood pen paces over. They did ask you if you minded, which you found a little funny. No one here had an appearance Gift that covered their whole body quite like you, so it was the first thing anyone noticed.
Uh, sheep...lamb. You’d never had it before, and didn’t want to try. So, they offered steer, but you had to decline that, too. It just felt weird. Like unofficial cannibalism even though you only looked like an animal. “My father is a bull, and my mother is an alpaca.” You used your other gift to join hands and inform your hosts before you and Yagi had split.
You got plenty of requests to touch your hair. You were used to that, too. You came out of some of your shyness to allow some touches. It was so white, they said, whiter than bones. And soft without needing to wash it so many times. Did you shear it? Well, of course you did. It grew too fast not to. Do you trade it?  Absolutely, let’s bargain.
You spurred an impromptu trading crowd without meaning to. Everyone watched in wonder as you cut off a cottony wad with your pocket knife, and a new patch of wool readily grew in its place. You had bread, and ground corn, and beads, and one young fellow who was very keen about you staying here with him if you were looking for a partner. You remembered you brought some melons full of seeds along, so you topped off that flurry with a big, beautifully loomed blanket on your arm.
When Yagi found you again, he was trying to hide a laugh behind his hand. There you were at your tent, corralling all of your new treasures and spoils. You were a tradeswoman anywhere, weren’t you?
IX.
“Yagi?” The world was dark and silent. It was hard to sleep while you were so far from your cot back at home. The canvas edges of your borrowed tent quivered with the rustle of the wind. It was kind of cold, so you were glad you had your new blanket, and some of the blankets that Yagi had given you. You did that idiot thing were you didn’t bring your own. You were afraid of losing, or messing one up. Every blanket you had was special. Even your new one.
“Yagi?” You whispered again. You could barely see his dark outline on the other side of the thick fabric. He didn’t snore, so you could never tell when he had gone to sleep.
“Yagi?” You tried one more time. Maybe he was asleep? Better not bother him. But finally he stirred. He rolled over to his other side in the dark, and then poked his head through the opening. He looked exhausted in the eyes, and full by the temporary pudge in his belly. “Are you alright?” Yagi mumbled.
You were okay, just stressed in a certain kinda way. And paranoid. You lied awake with your heart heavy with anxiousness waiting to hear it; the hiss… “I..Would you…” You stammered, heart picking up a beat now that you actually had to ask your question. “Do you think it’d be alright if you were here? If you stayed in here with me?”
Your question woke him. You could see his eyes had brightened. He held that expression while he considered his answer. There were plenty of reasons for him to decline, but oh...you were making that worried little face. He knew you were hoping that he’d say yes, so he did, and dragged the rest of himself inside. He stretched out long legs that barely fit on the inside and rested somewhere on the other side of you.
“Thank you.” You couldn’t ask him to move any closer, though you really, really wanted him to. You wanted his pleasant scent fresh and not just wafting your nose from his blankets. And you wanted him to wrap his arms around you and maybe pat you over the head right between the horns like he did from time to time. Oh good glory, would you listen to yourself? Go the hell to sleep.
X.
Should you be touching this? It felt like you shouldn’t have been touching this. The rock surface Mustang had lead you to on horseback was high up. It took you a quarter hour to climb, and another quarter to catch your breath. Yagi had to climb after you with his head craned to the side so he wouldn’t be looking up your bare legs while your clothes were tied out of the way.You were glad the goat in you didn’t mind, otherwise this traverse would be difficult.
You were expecting writing, but you could read the cluster of rock carvings just fine. You squinted while activating your Gift. Things didn’t come together right away. It’d been so long since you’d used it this way. After another try, you finally started to understand.
A majority of the drawings and glyphs were just entrees. A documentation of the days passed. On this day, the men on horseback arrived. On this day we left to travel elsewhere. On this day the canyon was taken with floods. It wasn’t what Yagi was looking for, but Mustang was recording everything on some dried skin as you moved along.
And then, as the carvings grew older, you read out some stories. You could feel a headache brewing behind your eyes, but by now the intrigue had struck you harder, and you wanted to press on and know more.
The spider woman who taught the weaving. This one was hard to read, it was overlapped with other carvings, but Mustang told you that he was already very familiar with the tale.
The warrior with the heart of a bear. He was drawn robustly with his club leading his people to victory in a battle.
The winding serpent that made the river. It slithered and slunk down the entire length of the race face, splitting into other stories and recordings.
The story of good the meadow where the soil was fair and water plenty.
The Oasis on the other side of the sun, and her warrior protector. To you this one read the same, but it felt important. There was a buzz in your fingertips and the cogwheels in your thick skull got to turning.
You’d stopped relying the info without knowing, too. You had gone silent as the symbols stacked in your mind and made a structured narrative before your eyes. The Oasis’ protector became something beyond being a man, chasing off imps on horseback swinging their knives and  shooting their guns and bringing their greed. The spirit of mother earth entered the crown of his head and made him undying. And when his job was done, and he had to leave to return to the other world, the will of the earth entered the heart of a worthy someone else, and it would be that way for forever and ever.
“Dove?” Yagi touched your shoulder. You grabbed on to him to keep from falling over and hitting your head. You blinked a few times to call yourself back to this realm. Both men were staring at you with concern in their eyes.
“You said you wanted to know something about the land? This,” you let go of the hold on your Gift so you could actually think and respond. “This one talks about the Oasis.”
XI.
“I’m glad that you’re all doing well. Very glad.” The flickering light from the dying fire fluttered over the contours of Yagi’s face. He rubbed the bags beneath his eyes, and then rubbed the skin of his arm. It was faint, but he could feel the itch and tingle; the urge to be his other self. He should have been asleep, but he couldn’t. He had even more to think about now.
“It’s because of you, you know.” Mustang took his seat with the grunt of a grouchy old man, though he held none of that in him. “If you had not come for us, we would have had to leave. We’re always going to be grateful. But now, what about you? You don’t look like you’ve been well, Friend.”
“I haven’t healed.” Yagi thumbed through his book. He’d copied what Mustang had scribbled from your readings in his own personal book; one of the ones he kept hidden beneath his bed. It was all in Japanese, since his English on paper still wasn’t the best. He’d been reading it over and over again since you returned to the settlement. It was too dark to read it now, even with the stars out.
“It doesn’t look like you have. How is your leg? And your chest?” Mustang placed his hand on his belly.
“I need to use a cane most days. Sometimes I spit up blood, but I’m still living, and that’s all I can ask for. I tend to horses’ feet now. I’m no longer in the mines.” Yagi tucked his book away in his shawl.
“Is it…?” Mustang’s eyes hastily darted over to where you were supposedly sleeping. Your eyes were closed, and your full lips gently parted with your gentle breathing. You wrapped yourself up in your new blanket, and the young weaver you bought it from couldn’t have been more flattered by how much you adored it.
“I always thought that you would have your own clan, Tall One. Young women always liked you.” He lifted his arm and flexed it as he reminisced on the old days when they were chasing off blue coats.
Yagi huffed through his nose, and then dryly laughed. “So did I, but time’s gotten away from me.” His eyes fell on you briefly. He was already asking a lot from you. The last thing on his mind was courting (even though it was absolutely one of the first things on his mind). He couldn’t let himself fall prey to whims.
“It’s not too late to not be lonely.” Mustang shook his head. “You might want to, before a younger man with more horses and more silver comes along to bargain for her hand. I can see that you like her. Your eyes are very bad at hiding your spirit.”
Yagi scrunched his nose and screwed up his expression. “I would like to, but I don’t want to hurt her. Mustang...I must tell you something.” He relaxed his face and turned on the log he sat on to properly look his old friend in the eye. There was a heaviness that settled in the pit of his chest.
Mustang held up his hand. “I’ve heard of the Desert Walker from the traders.” His brows were drawn up tight. The bags beneath his eyes were rimmed in red as the fire was on its last log. “The Desert Dweller. Desert Devil. Canyon Demon. Valley Eater. I’ve heard many, many names. We can speak of it, but there’s something else much more important that I must tell you.”
Much more important than his murdering spree?
“Toshinori,” Mustang drew in a breath “I am glad, and grieved that you’re here, because now I must tell you something I know you don’t want to hear.”
“What..what is it?” Yagi’s feet were cold in his boots. Coldness had settled over his forehead and shoulders. The muscles in all of his limbs were crawling and twitching with sheer instinct.
“You know how we’ve struggled here. How we’ve had to fight. How we almost had nothing.” Mustang bit the inside of his cheek. His bottom lip wrinkled and puckered as this news left a foul taste in his mouth and nostrils.  
“Yes, I know.” They’d accepted him. His master had accepted him when he came to this side of the world with nothing but his nose, and the will to work.
“They want to bring the railroad through here. They don’t ask, they just take and assume you’ll show your belly. I smelled something in the air one day, and then a ghost appeared to me early in the morning bring in all of his evil.”
No…
No, it couldn’t be.
“I saw him die, Toshinori. I saw you slay him with my own two eyes, and the eyes I keep behind me.” He touched the closed lids hidden deep beneath his hair with his palm. “But I saw him again, and he made me my family an offer that tempted and troubled me.”
Yagi couldn’t respond if he wanted. His jaw was tensed so tightly that his temple twitched and his teeth ached. All of his tanned knuckles were white.
“He’s like a twisted root. No right arm, and walks with a cane just like you do, friend. He has money like these white men now, they think he’s one of them. He offered my family supplies, and protection if I allowed him to rip this land apart. I refused, and he simply took his leave. I think this troubles me the most.”
You had been awake and listening for a while now. You fought your instinct to adjust your position, but you remained still and kept your breathing slow. You were glad you didn’t snore. That would have been hard to fake. What were they talking about? Or rather, who?
Yagi took deep breaths through his flared nostrils. Just the mention of Him set his blood on fire. His stench wasn’t in the air tonight, but it was burned into his most vivid memories. Dirty money, and brimstone, and worm water, and rotting. A thief, a cheater, a liar, and a gambler. The real demon of the desert had no heart, and no real eyes, and he thought he could own anything like he boasted he could own anything, anyone, and any Gift.
“Perhaps, old friend, there’s still work to be done.”
He still had a promise to keep. To do what this world asks of him in return. And then maybe, just maybe he could keep the promise he made to you.
“I think...I think so.” Yagi rubbed the writhing out of his arms and the prickle from the pores of his scalp. He had to try and hold it in, but he was angry. After all the blood and guts, and the skin of his teeth; putting his body on the line. Adaka’i was still carrying on his business.
And Yagi wondered what business it was. Somewhere in the desert…
XII.
The fire was gone.The world was dark and quiet again on the other side of your closed eyes. There were no hushed voices to listen to, just a bunch of sheep who should have been sleeping, too. So, you crawled back on the inside of Yagi’s tent to dream before you had to head back to Struggler tomorrow. Your head was so heavy and tired. Tired from growing all of that wool, tired from showing off the shapes you could make with your horns, tired from doing all of that reading, tired from doing all of that thinking.
Could you really call this dreaming, though? This was just shameless hoping and wishing. You still wanted Yagi to hold you, and pat your head, and tell you that you were silly. He wasn’t far from where you were, not physically. He came to rest beside you in the tent after Mustang and his little wife had wished him goodnight.
You hoped and wished that he’d bring you up to his chest and let you sleep with your faces close. You hoped and wished that he’d fancy giving you a kiss, too. And you hoped and wished he’d kiss you in places the Devil kissed you. Your body opened your eyes for you before you could get too carried away in that distant land. You were greeted with the dark, and the slow rise and fall of Yagi’s long, bony side.
The Devil...whoever he really was. You wondered if he was looking for you, or if you should even be thinking of him. What were you supposed to think of him? A lover? A monster? A murderer? A demon to sit on your chest? Or a vengeful spirit? You couldn’t have them both, and one stallion was stronger than the other, you knew that for sure. If you were with Yagi, would the Devil finish the job? You just didn’t know. You shouldn’t have been thinking about it now. You were just making your headache worse.
Or maybe you should have. You read for Yagi, sweet, handsome, Yagi, and now it was his part of the bargain.
Without thinking (you were good at that), you pushed yourself up from where you lay and crawled over to Yagi. His breathing changed, so you knew he was awake, but he didn’t move. You were holding your breath as you relocated yourself up against his back. Your cheek pressed against his shoulder. It was kind of hard, like you were expecting, but he was warm and he always smelled crisp. You were almost blue, expecting him to turn over and ask you what you were doing at any moment, but he still didn’t move.
You felt him relax. He was asleep again, and so were you curled up close like a house cat behind him.
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