Hint: Snakes inside your walls deliver liquids…

୧ ‧₊˚ Boss Bandit x Magic Archer fanfic requested on strawpage *:･₊˚.

synopsis: In a training camp where brute force usually dictates the rules, the impetuous Boss Bandit finds herself in an unexpected confrontation with the enigmatic Magic Archer. Far from a conventional duel, the archer challenges the warrior not with direct arrows, but with cunning riddles and movements that subvert all logic of combat. While the Boss Bandit seeks victory through strength, the Magic Archer provokes her to question her own tactics, revealing that true mastery may reside in intelligence and adaptability.

word count: 2.2k

“Riddles”

The first ray of sunlight had barely streaked across the sky when the arrow pierced the silence. It missed the target—but that was precisely the point.

“You mean you come to practice before the rooster crows and you miss on purpose?” Boss Bandit crossed his arms, the blade of his dagger gleaming faintly against his hip. His tone was challenging, but the corners of his mouth betrayed a sticky interest. Magic Archer, standing on one of the stone pillars of the training field, simply adjusted his bow with a smooth movement.

“Anyone can hit the target,” Magic Archer replied, twirling an arrow between his fingers as if it were a toy. “But to miss exactly three fingers off the center? That requires calculation.” He released another arrow, this time letting it graze the edge of the target before burying itself in the straw behind. Boss Bandit wrinkled his nose.

She leaped from the low wall where she sat and drew two daggers in a fluid motion. “Calculation, huh? Sounds like an excuse from someone who’s getting old.” She zigzagged forward, quick as lightning, but the archer was no longer on the pillar—only his light blue cloak fluttered in the air as he reappeared two meters to the right.

“What is heavy to carry, but becomes lighter the more you put on it?” he asked, distractedly aiming at the opposite side of the field. Boss Bandit almost tripped mid-jump.

“What?! That’s not part of the training of—” An arrow grazed her left arm. It rolled on the ground, spitting dirt. “Damn poet!”

Magic Archer tilted his head, smiling like a teacher before a rebellious student. “Ah, so you prefer a simpler one: born big, dies small, and lives full of air?” He took three precise steps back as he spoke, avoiding a furious charge from the bandit. His feet seemed to touch the ground only when strictly necessary.

Boss Bandit growled, twirling the club between his fingers as if they were extensions of his own body. “You think this is some tavern divination game?” She leaped onto one of the fallen pillars, using it as a springboard for an aerial attack. Magic Archer recoiled, but not far enough—her blade tore a thin line through his left sleeve.

“Almost,” he commented, as if admiring a job well done. Before she could savor the moment, he fired an arrow that, instead of flying straight, made an absurd curve in the air and struck the hilt of one of the daggers, knocking it from her hand. “But you still haven’t answered: born big, dies small, and lives full of air?”

She grabbed the fallen dagger with a swift movement, but she was already too angry to ignore it. “A balloon, you insufferable thing!” she yelled, lunging forward again. This time, however, her attack was more calculated—she feigned a left turn and, at the last instant, swerved to the right, almost managing to surprise him.

Magic Archer chuckled softly, as if savoring every second. “Much better. Now try this: what walks with its head down, but never tires?” He let the question hang in the air as he slid behind one of the pillars, disappearing for a moment.

Boss Bandit stopped mid-movement, her muscles tensing. She knew it was a trap, but the intellectual challenge was like an itch in her brain. “Head down… never tires…” she murmured, her eyes narrowing. Suddenly, a glimmer of understanding. “A shadow!” She turned quickly, anticipating the attack—but Magic Archer wasn’t behind her. He was above, hanging from one of the field’s stone arches, his bow already drawn.

The arrow Magic Archer fired didn’t come in a straight line—it traced an elegant curve in the air, circling Boss Bandit like a serpent of air and wood. The tip merely grazed the fabric of his doublet, leaving a perfect mark in the shape of a question mark. He fell lightly to the ground, making no sound, as if the wind itself had deposited him there.

“Correct answer,” he said, with a nod of approval. “But you looked in the wrong place.” His blue eyes gleamed with amusement as he twirled another arrow between his fingers, unhurriedly. Boss Bandit felt the heat rise up his neck, but this time it wasn’t just anger—it was the kind of frustration that comes hand in hand with admiration.

She spat on the ground and adjusted the position of her club. “Enough games. Let’s see if you’re as clever when I get close.” She charged forward like a hurricane, but Magic Archer was already in motion, retreating in calculated steps that kept him always out of reach. He seemed to dance, not fight.

“Everything is a game, my dear,” he replied, as an arrow Magicly appeared in his bow without her seeing him draw it. “Even war. Especially war.” He fired, but this time it was a false shot—the arrow passed inches from her face, only to catch her ponytail in one of the trees behind her.

Magic Archer took advantage of the moment of distraction to disappear behind a column in ruins. His voice echoed, coming from somewhere above, as if he were floating among the shadows. “What has keys but doesn’t open doors? Has space but no rooms? You can enter but can’t leave?” The question came wrapped in the whistle of another arrow, which whizzed past Boss Bandit’s ear.

She spun around, her eyes flashing with irritation and something else—a stubborn curiosity she didn’t want to admit. “A damn piano, you annoying little ghost!” she shouted, kicking a loose stone in the direction the voice had come from. The stone hit nothing, of course. He was never where she imagined him to be.

“Correct,” his voice now came from her left, and when she turned, there he was, leaning against a pillar as if he were in a tavern, not in the middle of a duel. “But you’re thinking too much about the objects and too little about the field.” With a sudden movement, he pointed his bow at the ground between them and shot. The arrow didn’t pierce the earth—it ricocheted off a hidden rock and flew up at an impossible angle, almost grazing her chin. Boss Bandit felt the shiver of danger too late.

She leaped back, rolling on the ground and rising into a crouching position. “You think this is funny, huh?” Her fingers gripped the club until the knuckles turned white. “Training is for sweating, not for playing charades.”

Magic Archer tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with that light of silent amusement that only irritated Boss Bandit more. “Sweating without thinking is a stonemason’s job, not a warrior’s,” he said, twirling another arrow between his fingers with an almost supernatural agility. “But come on—last round. If you hit this one, I stop. If you miss… well, you know where the library is.”

She almost growled. “Fine. Go ahead.” Her posture was defiant, but her eyes were alert, scanning the training field as if every shadow might hide another verbal trap. “What is it that gets bigger the more you take away?” The question came with the sound of the bow being drawn, but this time Magic Archer didn’t flinch. He stood still, like a willing target, the calm smile of someone who already knew how the story would end. Boss Bandit hesitated for a fraction of a second—it was too obvious. It was a trap.

“A hole, you idiot!” She jumped aside, anticipating the arrow that was sure to come, but instead heard only a low chuckle. Magic Archer had lowered the bow, the arrow still nocked, unfired.

“Right answer,” he admitted, “but wrong strategy.” The movement was too quick for her to follow—an arrow suddenly appeared in the bow, the shot was fired before she could blink, and the tip barely grazed the fabric of her doublet, leaving another precise mark: this time, a small, perfect circle, like a period.

Boss Bandit barely had time to process the last shot when Magic Archer closed the distance between them with three fluid steps, almost gliding across the grass. His body leaned forward in a smooth movement, as if inviting her to a dance, not a fight. Before she could react, his left hand enveloped hers with a gentleness that contrasted absurdly with the fury of the previous moment, while his right hand held the bow behind his back, like a gentleman concealing a rapier at a ball.

“What the hell—” She tried to pull away, but he was already leading her in an unexpected spin, his feet describing a perfect semicircle on the hard-packed earth. The archer’s light blue cloak billowed, creating an illusion of fluid movement among the sunbeams filtering through the trees. It was an impromptu waltz in the middle of the clearing, with the stone pillars as silent spectators.

“Relax your posture,” he whispered close to her ear, as his right foot slid back, pulling her body along in a continuous movement. “Fighting the rhythm only makes it harder.” Boss Bandit felt her muscles involuntarily tense—half of her wanted to plunge the dagger between his ribs, the other half was too bewildered to react. Her breath, once panting with anger, now seemed to involuntarily synchronize with his calm steps.

She finally managed to break free with a sharp turn, but Magic Archer had already retreated, his bow reappearing in his hands as if by magic. “That was pathetic,” she spat, but the blush on her face belied the firmness of the words. Her right foot was slightly forward, as if part of her still awaited the next dance step.

“Pathetic?” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with that amused light she was beginning to detest. “You followed the rhythm for three full measures. For a beginner, that’s promising.” The arrow he fired next came so slowly she almost caught it in mid-air—until she realized it was just a distraction. The real arrow was already resting against her neck, the blue feather gently brushing her skin.

Boss Bandit froze, not from fear, but from sheer confusion.

“What kind of training is this?” he growled, feeling the arrowhead slide down, tracing an imaginary line to his heart before he pulled it away. Magic Archer took two precise steps back, as if finishing a choreography.

“The kind that prepares you for the unexpected,” he replied, twirling the bow between his fingers before sheathing it on his back with a fluid movement. “Your opponents in the arena will never come in a straight line. And your allies even less so.” He pointed to the ground between them, where his steps had left circular marks in the packed earth—a pattern that resembled a musical score more than a battlefield.

She spat on the pattern, destroying the symmetry with the tip of her boot. “Allies don’t dance. And enemies don’t give etiquette lessons.” Her fingers gripped the club, but without the same conviction as before. Magic Archer merely smiled, as if she had just proven her point.

“That’s exactly why you need to learn,” he said, bending down to pick up a fallen arrow without taking his eyes off her. “Because when you least expect it, someone will invite you to dance in the middle of the chaos. And you need to decide—step on your partner’s feet or learn the steps.”

The sun was already high, casting short shadows over the clearing. Boss Bandit looked at the marks on the ground, then at her own hands, as if hoping to find in them some explanation for the madness of that morning. When she looked up, Magic Archer was already atop the nearest pillar, her blue cloak billowing against the sky.

Boss Bandit watched Magic Archer atop the pillar, her teeth clenched. The wind played with the ends of her ponytail, but she didn’t move. “It’s not over yet,” she murmured to herself, her muscles tense like bowstrings. Her mind still buzzed with the echoes of the riddles, but now something else occupied her thoughts—that unexpected turn, the gentle pressure of his hand guiding hers. It was as if he had left a trail of invisible questions in the air, more irritating than any enigma.

“Let’s take a lunch break. You pay.” Boss Bandit said, wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm before tossing his club over his shoulder with a sloppy motion. Magic Archer glanced at the high sun, as if calculating the time by the angle of the shadow, and then smiled with that tranquility that made her want to tear out her eyelashes.

“Lunch? But you still haven’t guessed the last riddle.” He leaped from the pillar with the lightness of a feather, landing without making a sound on the hard-packed earth. Boss Bandit was already turning his back, marching towards the nearest tavern, but he continued talking as if she were paying attention. “The more you take away, the bigger it gets. You said ‘hole,’ but that wasn’t the answer I was expecting.”

She stopped abruptly, her shoulders tense. Without turning around, she spoke through gritted teeth: “So what was your idiotic answer?”

“A grave.” His voice came closer now, almost whispering in her left ear. She felt the shiver even before she realized he had closed the distance without casting a shadow. “The more earth you take away, the bigger it gets. Don’t you find that poetic?”

Boss Bandit finally turned, facing him with eyes that promised violence. “You’re unbearable.”

i found this odd insta post today

I think it’s supposed to be a puzzle or smth if your into that go follow idk I’ll keep updating, but it’s very odd and mysterious

Riddles, Riddles! | Easy to Medium Riddles with Answers | Fun Brain Teasers for All #riddlesquiz

via YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvgmaktMWzE

Riddles, Riddles! | Can You Solve These Mind-Bending Riddles & Brain Teasers? #riddlesquiz #riddles

via YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aqZ7YgjwYxA

Throwback to when I spent two weeks quarantining in a hotel room while I finished my bachelor’s degree.

I wish the esoteric angels hiding within lightbulbs would perch and tell me why I’m so sleeby all the time

New Post published on https://printmysteries.com/murder-mystery-riddles/

Murder Mystery Riddles

Here are 10 of the top murder mystery riddles that challenge your logic and deduction skills. Click on the arrow to show the answers. 1. Murder at SchoolOn the first day of school, a history teacher is murdered. The suspects: landscaper (mowing the lawn), math teacher (giving a mid-year test), basketball coach (running drills), and principal (in her office). Who did it? 2. The Letters of MurderA chemist is found dead, with a note: “26-3-58/28-27-57-16.” The detective arrests two colleagues. Why? 3. The Unconvincing AlibiA millionaire is murdered Sunday morning. Suspects: wife (reading), maid (getting mail), gardener (planting seeds), butler (polishing silver). […]

I yearn to be seen. I yearn to be heard.

But I don’t want to be found. What am I?

“I gave my love a flower that had no bloom. I gave my love a bed without a bedroom. I gave my love a nettle that had no sting. I gave my love a voice that had no singing.”

“But how can a flower have no bloom? And how can a bed not have a bedroom? How can a nettle have no sting? And how can a voice have no singing?”

Oh a flower when it’s fruiting, it has no bloom,
A deep riverbed, it has no bedroom,
A nettle when it’s linen, it has no sting
A voice that’s from Arcadia, it has no singing.

Amal El-Mohtar, The River Has Roots

I gave my love a cherry that has no stone
I gave my love a chicken that has no bone
I gave my love a story that has no end
I gave my love a country, with no borders to defend

“But how can a cherry have no stone? And how can a chicken have no bone? How can a story have no end? And how can a country have no borders to defend?”

A cherry when it’s bloomin’, it has no stone,
A chicken when it’s pippin’, it has no bone,
The story that I love you, it has no end,
A country in surrender, it has no borders to defend

Amal El-Mohtar, The River Has Roots

I’ll say what I am, but I can’t say what I am. What am I?

She’d expected riddles, a test of wills. An ancient, unnecessarily complicated game of Grasshopper’s Gambit with, yes, the extra pieces. Even a staring contest, with clear but unspoken cheating involved on both sides.
—Martin Cahill/Audition For The Fox

Riddles, Riddles! | Can You Solve These Genius Riddles & Brain Teasers? #riddlesquiz

via YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQo-vuVEB2M

A riddle.

First, you cut out my eyes.

Next, you pierce my flesh.

Then you anoint it.

Next, I am subjected to an hour of boiling heat.

Finally, I am cut open, my wounds filled with salt and fat, and only then do I meet my final fate.

What am I?

Huzzah thou hath come forth to brave the challenge of the goose! Thou shalt receive three hints: my best and most goosish of luck to thee. My riddle is this:

I am soft as a rope,

As so do I bend.

But sharp am I,

Some say I am hell send

Fruit they say is my concern

Who am I?

Alas, no.

This answer is freezing cold.

Laugh for the Day (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/366716919-laugh-for-the-day?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=asoapymessromances Jokes and riddles to make you smile.

I was in bed one night and I figured out the answer. I swear I didn’t look it up. I swear I’m not stupid.

You just need to stack both the apples, then cut them through the middle. Give each of the three people a half, and keep one for later.

Jolly Groundhog Monday!!!

Good {c-c-cold} Monday morning, friends!  Today is ‘Groundhog Day’ here in the U.S.  For those of you not familiar with it, it’s a tradition where a famous groundhog (aka ‘woodchuck’) comes out of his underground home just after 7:00 a.m. on the 2nd day of February.  If he sees his shadow (ie., if it is sunny), he immediately returns underground and there will be six more weeks of winter…

Jolly Groundhog Monday!!!