#Bio-Warrior 18

[sweetescapeartist]

K18 Valentine's Day 💝

Here are a couple of mini comics of K18 for Valentine's Day!

EDIT: The links don't work for some reason. I think it's because it doesn't show this type of art unless you are logged in. So, you'll have to get on TwXtter, then search @TobiZenko to find the mini comics.

Kurilin × Cyborg No. 18

Kurilin × Bio-Warrior No. 18

Kurolin × Bio-Warrior No. 18

Kurolin × Cyborg No. 18

[vezpr]

corporal: ch 1 - punishment

SUKUNAxF!READER ☽☾ HEIAN ERA AU ☽☾ ONGOING SERIES ☽☾ AO3

☽☾𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬:CH1: PUNISHMENT ▪︎ CH2: EXPECTATIONS ▪︎ CH3: DENIAL

☽☾ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You are such a menace that your father decides to offer your eternal servitude as a gift to the King of Curses.

Sukuna has not accepted such a tribute in years, more often opting to eat the young girls rather than put them to work, which is perfectly acceptable as far as your asshole dad is concerned.

Will the demon make an exception for you?

☽☾ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+MINORS DNI, blood and gore, violence, abuse, true form sukuna, eventual smut (not yet),I suck at tags

☽☾ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: CH: 4.2k TOTAL: 7.7k

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please comment something to that effect. But please put an age in your bio so i don't have to block you. Thanks for reading. 🖤

As a little girl, you were inseperable from your sister, Emika. You spent countless afternoons giggling and dashing between the trees in the wood surrounding your home. The same wood you are now running through as your life depends on it.

Even as stitches crawl, burning, into your ribs, you picture Emika's smiling face in the dappled sunlight. When you trip over a root and catch the stony soil with your knees and palms, your mind conjures a memory of practicing katas and swordplay with her in secret, of the many times she put you in the dirt, herself, grinning as she tapped her bamboo sword lightly against your throat. "Dead," she'd giggle. She was so strong.

You bound to your feet and run despite your burning lungs and aching legs. As your pursuer knocks you to the ground, restraining you with a strong pair of arms, you recall the time you walked into your favorite clearing and found her kissing one of the servant girls. Later, she had shared her secret with you, only you. 

As the guards drag you kicking and screaming back to your family home you recall how vacant her eyes had become when the servant girl was sent away. The way her lips no longer smiled when she was given to a man twice her age, a cruel man who kept her pregnant and did not love her. You would die rather than accept such a fate for yourself. You would be the warrior Emika had dreamt of being. 

As calloused hands throw you into the closet used to confine you when you were had misbehaved especially severely, you pictured how Emika had looked at you on her wedding day, a tight smile under eyes shiny with unshed tears. As you scream through split, swollen lips and pound your fists bloody on the heavy wooden door, you pictured her nodding and mouthing a silent goodbye to you. 

When you finally slump against the door and succumb to a darkness so complete that closing your eyes makes no difference, you hiss her name into the silence. Damn her. Why didn't she fight it? All that strength, for what?

Twenty now, you are half a dozen years older than she was when she was married. You are known for your wild behavior which has discouraged many requests for your hand, despite your clan being rather powerful. Your life was not pleasant, as a result.

You had been flogged and thrown into the dark more times than you could count. Your mother does not even come to sit on the other side of the door and tearfully beg you to change your ways anymore. You are utterly alone, and you suffer. But at least you have a modicum of freedom. At least this suffering is your choice.

"So you're back, father," you spit, blinking at the light that filters around his still armored silhouette. Fresh from one battle, into another. You do not give him the satisfaction of crying out when he yanks you out of the closet by your filthy hair. After all the pain you have suffered at the hands of this man and his lackeys, you hardly feel it anyway. 

"Yes, daughter," he spits the word out like he can't stand the taste of it. "And I will finally be rid of you for good."

"Finally grown the balls to kill me?" You sneer as one of his underlings closes manacles around your wrists. You lean away as the back of his hand flies toward your face, angering him further when his strike fails to land. He does not miss a second time. You grin at him with bloody teeth. 

"Worse," he answers. "You are to be given to the shrine." He smiles back at you when your grin falters, your heart skipping a beat. You know exactly what he means. You are to be offered to Ryoumen Sukuna, the king of curses. You have never seen him yourself, but his monstrous appearance and even more monstrous appetites are well known throughout the region. 

You can remember looking out of your window one night as a child, seeing the orange tinge to the horizon in the distance, the faint smell of smoke. "It's the King of Curses, raiding," Emika had explained, as she stroked your hair. Goosebumps raised on your skin as she described the four-armed cannibal warlord, a powerful weilder of cursed energy. The strongest force known to the country. "Don't worry, he won't come here," she had soothed. "Father has ways of keeping him placated."

Your dismay is only momentary, however, as you realize the irony of your father presenting you as a gift: dirty, broken and wild as a rabid dog. You laugh softly. "Perhaps he will kill you for your trouble," you sneer.

Your father looks you up and down before averting his eyes and scoffing in disgust. "Vile as you are, I'm sure you taste the same as any other girl, and that's the only use that savage has for such gifts," he responds. "Have her cleaned and dressed" he says over his shoulder, already marching away from you. 

It takes two men to hold you down while a servant girl is brought in to wash you. Her soft, dark eyes remind you of Emika. They are filled with fear when she looks at you. You do not give her any trouble, not even when she removes the muzzle from your face to clean it with a warm cloth. You slide your eyes to the gaurd whose fingers you had wounded before he was able to get the thing on your face, glaring at him threateningly.

The woman's hands are gentle, especially around your wounded lips, and the cleansing soothes your broken skin. "Thank you," you murmur to her as she pours warm water over your matted hair, combing it out as she washes it. She says nothing, but looks at you with pity, now. You had preferred the fear. 

On the journey to the shrine, you manage to ruin most of her work, throwing yourself repeatedly into the mud. At one point, you even manage to escape, despite being shackled, and forced the guards to chase you through the woods for over an hour. As a result, you are late to court, but your father drags you through the doors, anyway, dripping from an impromptu "bath" he had given you in the river. 

Standing on your tip-toes, you peer over the heads of the crowd. Your heart rate picks up a notch when you spot the monster lounging on a throne piled with skulls and bones at the head of the room. His enormous frame is draped over the chair, his cheek resting on his fist, as he looks down on one of his subjects. The squat old man is currently groveling next to a pool of blood at the foot of the steps that lead up to the throne. Presumably, his predecessor had not fared well.

Tattoos adorn the King's forehead and chin, tracing the sharp angle of his jaw, as well. A pair of piercing red eyes are set into each side of his face, although one set sit inside a rough-textured mask of some sort. The halo of soft, pink curls on top of his head looks strikingly out of place. His white kimono edged in dark blue hangs open over his chest, more black ribbons of tattoos frame his exposed pectorals. An additional pair of arms sit relaxed in his lap, the wrists of all four appendages are circled by more tattoos, like bracelets. 

Suddenly all four of his eyes snap up and he scans the crowd, until he sets his sights on you. You sink back onto your heels, heart in your throat, hoping, for once, that you have vanished into a sea of men. You are beginning to think that the eye-contact was just your imagination, when a booming voice calls out your father by name, asking him to approach. 

"Hold her," your father hisses at his guards, who are, in fact, already holding on tight to your manacled arms. You are grateful for the muzzle, for the first time, hiding your fear behind it. The old man that had been stuttering at the King's feet scurries back into the crowd as your father approaches. 

Sukuna glares down at him in silence for several very long and uncomfortable moments before he finally asks, "Brought your brat here, have you?" 

"I have, your-"

"Is it true," he cuts your father off, examining a long, black fingernail as he speaks, "that she disarmed one of your generals and managed to wound several men with his katana before she was stopped." 

"Regrettably-"

The monster cuts him off again with a low chuckle. "Bring her," he says.

Your legs feel like lead as the guards drag you foward, the crowd parting in front of you, many eyes casting curious looks in your direction. All four of Sukuna's eyes bore into you as you approach. You can't seem to tear your gaze away from his, though it is more out of paralyzing fear than defiance, for once. You wonder if he can sense it. Your fear. It has been a long time since you have been afraid like this, accustomed as you are to pain. The guards stop just a few strides behind your father. 

It feels as if all of the air is sucked out of the room as the two of you stare at each other, neither moving. The man seems awfully fond of uncomfortable silences, you think, as he stares at you with the same heavy-lidded, bored expression.

"What is that shit on her face?" He asks without moving a muscle. 

"Told you to take that off," your father hisses at the guards over his shoulder, even as one has already opened his mouth to answer Sukuna.

"A muzzle, Master Sukuna," the man on your left bows slightly, releasing your arm as he answers, "she bites."

Sudden inspiration strikes and you stomp hard on the toes of the man on your right, causing him to release your other arm and then you are running. You feel like you take only a half-dozen strides before a strong hand clamps down on your wrist. You spin, intending to smash your captor's nose in with your head, but you draw back when you are met with the muscled expanse of Sukuna's tattooed chest. "Leaving so soon?" He growls. He is enormous, you realize as you life your eyes to his, glittering garnets. He is smiling and you make a note of his long, sharp canines.

Frozen in place and unable to tear your eyes away from his, you don't even see the back of your father's hand flying towards your face. Your head reels back with the impact, a warm gush of blood colors one side of your vision red as his knuckles split the flesh under your eyebrow. 

Sukuna flicks his wrist almost imperceptibly and then your father is screaming. A fine spray of blood lands at your feet seconds before his severed hand rolls into your line of vision. Sukuna's eyes never leave yours. You don't move when he removes the muzzle and lets it fall to the ground where it lands just out of reach of the twitching fingers of the severed hand.

"Going to bite me?" He asks, his voice so low only you can hear, he leans in, eclipsing your vision, his breath warm against your ear.

You shake your head. You decided when this man removed your father's hand with a simple gesture that no amount of biting or running would prove effective against him. 

"Run if you want," he says, in the same low voice. "But you won't get far. Either they will get you," he says, nodding in your father's direction. "Or I will." He smiles, a cold display of sharp teeth, "and I like hunting."

He releases your wrist and turns to your father who is clutching his gushing arm. "You are aware that I appreciate useful offerings?" He asks.

"Yes, master Sukuna," your father bleats in a broken voice.

"What use do you think I would get out of her," he gestures at you, and you realize what a pathetic mess you must look, streaked with mud and blood and drenched in river water.

"I- well-" your father stammers, face gone pale from blood loss. "Your- your- appetites..."

He scoffs. "Execute your own children..." He says with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Uraume!" He calls, addressing a white robed monk, who, you are peripherally aware, had been standing serenely beside the throne throughout the proceedings. "Put her up in the East wing," he commands. "You know the chambers I mean?"

"Yes, Master Sukuna," the monk nods, but you don't miss the arch of her eyebrows above her pale pink eyes. Despite their surprise, Uraume descends the steps and places a hand lightly on your shoulder. You shiver, their touch is intensely cold, but allow them to guide you towards the exit behind the throne.

Before you are out of sight, you turn to look once more at your father. "If you survive the blood loss, I hope you die of infection," you bellow at the top of your lungs. 

Sukuna throws his head back and laughs.

Uraume is silent as they guide you down empty corridors to the chambers specified for you. When they slide back the shoji door and you step in, you are surprised to find a sizeable suite with varnished floors, a large futon stacked with pillows, cushioned chairs and, what really draws your attention, a vanity littered with combs and perfumes.

"Who lives here?" You ask, narrowing your eyes at the feminine items.

"You, now," they answer.

"I mean before."

The monk hesitates, but finally answers with a shrug. "Master Sukuna's... concubines... but not for a long time now." 

"I will not be anyone's concubine!"

Uraume clicks her tongue. "Master Sukuna does what he likes," they shrug. "But, if it comforts you, he has not shown interest in replacing those he... rid himself of."

"What happened to them?"

"I will bring you a basin so that you can wash up. I'm sure you will find some clothes that will fit you in the wardrobe."

"But-" you begin, but they are gone in a white and pink blur of hair and robe.

All that first night you lie awake on the futon, staring at the shoji doors, half expecting the demon to burst through them and make his motivation for keeping you known. He never comes, although in the wee hours of the morning you hear soft thuds and low growling from the wall at your back. You wonder if the monster's chambers share a wall with yours, and shudder to think what he might be doing to make all that noise. 

After a few restless nights, you are eventually able to sleep. Although you are fairly certain that he is the source of the noises you are hearing at night, they almost comfort you at this point, as they mean that he is in his quarters, not thinking of bothering you.

Weeks go by and you barely see him, except in passing, and even then, he only addresses Uraume or other staff, never you, directly. It is as if you are invisible to him. Except for one instance in particular, you saw him entering through the West gate. Evidently, he was back from raiding and pillaging, as he was covered in blood and soot, wearing only a tattered hakama, hanging low on his hips. When he turned and saw you staring, he flashed a manic grin that had you spinning on your heel and hurrying in the opposite direction. You could hear him laughing behind you, and shuddered at the sound. 

Most days, Uraume would collect you in the morning and assign you some task or another. Cleaning and food prep, mostly. Apparently, Sukuna enjoyed eating large quantities of a variety of foods, not only human flesh. Thankfully, Uraume was the only one entrusted with preparing fare of that kind.  Other than that, you were free to explore the estate and no one seemed to bother you or ask what you were doing. 

You often ate in the kitchen with the other servants, and it was from one of these that you learned what happened to Sukuna's former harem. 

"Ate 'em, he did," Baba, croaked. She was a bent and wrinkled old woman who appeared to be at least a hundred and fifty years old. Her watery, cataracted eyes gleamed over her sunken cheeks as her toothless mouth sputtered out the story. "Got bored of fucking em, sure enough! Or fed up with them treatin' him too familiar, one! One tried running away but he caught her quick as anything and that's the truth! What a mess that was! Thought I'd never get up all that bl-"

"Baba!" Uraume scolded as they walked out of the back holding Sukana's tray. You tried not to look at the contents, or even think about them, as you poked at your salmon with your chopsticks.

"Well! It's the truth, it is!' The old woman screeches, spittle flying as she throws up her hands. "It is," she insists, leaning towards you and fixing her milky eyes on yours. 

Normally, you would smile at the old woman's theatrics, but you find yourself frowning at your food, instead. You recall that first day, how Sukuna had said that he likes useful things. How are you useful to him? You doubt he is even peripherally aware of what little work you do here, and, even if he was, anyone could do it. Why had he specifically put you in a room so close to his own, a lavish one at that, nicer than anything you had ever had at home?

You look up from your plate and down the table at the other servants. The few that are looking at you drop their eyes. Come to think of it, Baba and Uraume are the only ones who talk to you. Everyone else avoids you like the plague. Why is that?  You stand suddenly, knocking the table with your hips, causing dishes to clatter. Everyone is looking now. You hurry to clear your place and rush out into the bright daylight, no longer able to tolerate being confined indoors with your thoughts or with all those eyes on you. I have got too comfortable, you think to yourself.

Eventually, as you pace around the estate, you calm, although your eyes seek out the exit gates more than usual. The space is beautiful, with sprawling courtyards filled fruit trees, vegetable gardens, even a koi pond and a little stream that empties into a hot spring on the outskirts. Carrying your sandals, you walk along the edge of the whispering water. You smile to yourself as you watch the clear water rushing over the pebbled streambed.

Might as well enjoy all this while I can, you are thinking to yourself, when you hear movement ahead of you. Although you are somewhat concealed behind a stand of trees, you are only yards away from the hotspring. You hadn't realized that you had waljed so far. Sukuna stands at the edge of it, having just let his kimono slide off of his shoulders. Rooted to the spot, your eyes trace the lines of his tattoos, then the dips of his sculpted abdominals until they reach an odd line just below his navel. A scar, perhaps? You swallow thickly, finding your mouth suddenly dry. 

Your eyes are still focused on the odd slit on his belly- you could have sworn you saw it move- when his hands drop to loosen his hakama. As heat crawls unwanted into your cheeks and the tops of your ears, you avert your eyes and turn to go. Your heart was already threatening to hammer it's way out of your rib cage when he calls out, "Come here, girl." 

Could be talking to anyone, you reason as you will your limbs to obey you and continue your retreat.  A couple of splashes and then you hear him call out your name, louder than before. You are shocked that he even remembers it. Slowly, your movements dreamlike, you turn and make your way toward him. Holding your chin high and hoping you exude a confidence that you do not feel, you move to the edge of the hotspring opposite to where he is now half-submerged in the steaming water. "You called me?" You ask, bowing stiff and shallow.

"Closer," he nods, but doesn't otherwise bother to move. His upper arms are draped along the edge of the hotspring, his lower ones, concealed beneath the water.

Hesitantly, you move closer, but still  just out of reach of his splayed fingers. He looks, first, at your bare ankles, then, his spider-eyed gaze lingers along the length of your body until your eyes meet. The silence twists knots in your gut, and, although you do your best not to squirm, you feel as if every drop of blood in your body is rushing to your face. He is smirking. He is young, you realize, looking down at his unlined face. Striking, you are unable to stop yourself from thinking of his tattooed features, his extra eyes.

"Do you need something?" You ask, thinking better of the 'What do you want,' you typically have on queue for unloved authority figures. 

"Do you? Or are you content to spy on me from the shadows?" 

"I wasn't-" you begin, scowling. "Actually," you change direction, crossing your arms. "I do want something. I want to know why you keep me here... and why in that room?"

His smirk widens until it is almost a smile. A sinister expression, nonetheless.

"Do you want to go home?"

"I-" you sputter. No you don't want to go home, but you don't necessarily want to admit that, either. 

"I think what you mean to say is: thank you, Master Sukuna, hm?" He says as your mouth opens and closes like a fish. "Does that answer your question, or would you like me to think more about what to do with you?"

While you spoke he had inched closer to you and now you feel the warm slide of his fingers on the back of your calf. You look down at his extended arm, the tattooed wrist disappearing under the hem of your kimono, as you stomach does a series of somersaults.

When your legs finally decide to obey you you turn and speedwalk stiffly back towards the East wing of the shrine. You expect to be called back or struck down at any moment, but Sukuna only laughs at your retreat. 

Thst night, ypu decide you will leave. You manage to gather some food from the kitchen and other supplies without attracting attention. Now all there is to do is wait until you hear the demon thudding around and growling through the wall. Then, you will know that it's safe.  

What is he doing in there anyway, you think to yourself as you pace back and forth across the suite, stopping now and then to actually press your ear against the wall. Growling like that... the image of his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his hakama rises, unbidden, to your mind. You shake your head as if that will clear it. "Stop it," you hiss to yourself, absolutely hating the way your stomach twists and flutters at the thought. 

Hours pass. It is much later than it usually is when you hear him on the other side of the wall. You press your ear hard against the wall and strain to hear, but the only sound is the pumping of your own heart.

You sigh raggedly.

Maybe he's sleeping.

Maybe he's traveling, doing whatever monsters do. 

"Fuck it," you mutter, grabbing the bag full of supplies and slinging it over your shoulder. The shoji door is blessedly quiet as you slide it open. The hallway is dark, empty, silent. You breath a sigh of relief and close your eyes, centering yourself, gathering your courage. Maybe he won't even care that you're gone. Maybe he won't even notice. The thought comforts you and you draw on it for confidence as you take the first step out into the corridor. 

"Going somewhere?"

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice. It is a miracle that you don't cry out. You turn slowly, as you would in a nightmare, to see him leaning against the wall bare inches away from your door. You are surprised you didn't hear him breathing, as close as he is.

"For a walk," you answer evenly. 

"With luggage?" He asks, nodding at the bag slung over your shoulder. His eyes and teeth glint in the dim light. He's smiling. This is entertaining for him, it seems.

He chuckles when you say nothing and steps toward you. "Go on, then," he says. "I'll give you a generous headstart... Although," he reaches out and plucks the heavy bag off of your shoulder as if it were nothing, "I suggest you travel light."

There is only one response to that.  

You run. 

[veinsfullofstars]

"Still trying to intimidate me? Cute."

(ID: Kirby series fanart of Meta Knight and Galacta Knight based off of a couple dynamics template by @/ReddsMess on Twitter. Original template and source below the cut, as well as a HAL language variant. Top-left panel - high-angle shot of MK lit from above, standing firm and glaring up through his mask, his wings curled out and breaching the panel in places, subtitled "Well well..." Top-right panel - low-angle shot of GK lit from below, looming in the air and leering down through his mask, his wings curled out and his hands spread wide in challenge, both of which breach the panel in places, subtitled "Look who came to see me..." Bottom panel - MK & GK stand next to each other, the latter leaning towards the former and gently caressing the side of his mask with the back of one hand, grinning smugly and wrapping a wing around the knight, subtitled "My Knightmare." MK stands stiffly with his fists clenched at his sides, blushing vividly and glaring away from the warrior. A little flurry of white hearts emanate from GK, while one small one hovers above MK. END ID.)

Started 03/30/24, finished 04/02/24, updated for color correction 11/02/24.

---

HAL language variant:

Original by ReddsMess (template link) NOTE: The artist has marked 16-18+ in their bio, so browse at your own risk!

[twilightaurora]

bolstering a fighter's spirit – sage

sneak peek: before battle, link pulls you aside with a request. he wants to wear his barbarian armor into the fight, but he needs help with the paint patterns of the set. after all, the attack bonus only happens when the purple paint completes the armor. won't you help him?

pairing: sage (totk!link) x fem!reader, background chain (no wind) x fem!reader (poly) – this will be four parts! one for sage, wild, and cal, then the triplets together ;)

warnings: 18+ content! (do NOT interact with this unless you have an age indicator in your bio - I WILL block you) cursing, spitting, handjobs/masturbation, hair pulling, praising, mentions of oral (m! receiving), sage is a big tease, a little bit of exhibitionism (public setting, but you're alone), jealousy ;) biting (forgive me if sage is ooc, he's just a little gremlin in my eyes) this is mostly teasing – the good stuff will come in part four ;)

word count: 6.4k

a/n: i want sage in a way that is concerning to feminism i think (/j... or am i??) this is dedicated to @neverchecking who fueled my brain rot xD this series is for you >:D

It starts with Sage.

Because it always does. 

The chain landed in his Hyrule the day before, appearing on the borders of Zora’s Domain. The shift wasn’t terrible this time – for you anyway. Hylia, whether intentionally or not, had dumped you directly atop Time and Twilight. 

In your humble opinion, Time made a much worse cushion than his successor. With his broad chest and stiff armor, the eldest hero was less than comfortable to land on. Twilight, on the other hand, managed to grasp a hold of your waist in the midst of the fall, and dragged you into him as the three of you went down. You ended up landing mostly atop Twilight, much to your thanks. However, you could still feel the harsh press of Time’s armor against your sides.

“Oof,” you grunt as the air escapes your chest involuntarily. Pressing a hand to your ribs, you suck in a grateful breath of air as you lean forward. 

A hand slips around your hips as another gently taps against your back.

“You alright there, darl’?” 

It’s Twi. His accent is unmistakable. 

His hand rubs sweetly against your side as you cough. Sitting up with a huff, you feel Twilight hum as you lean away from his chest. Awkwardly, you shimmy off his lap to land between him and Time, smiling with a little chuckle, you nod. 

“Yeah, m’okay,” you smile, feeling your breath return. “You?”

Twilight chuckles, shifting and stretching his back. The three of you landed on your backs, facing skyward as the portal closed above you. It wasn’t a big fall, but it was enough to leave you winded. 

“M’alright, too. What about ya,’ Time? Ya’ good, old man?” Twilight turns over his shoulder to look at Time with a toothy grin. You catch a glimpse of his sharpened canines and have to look away before he catches your lingering stare. 

Time huffs, rubbing his own hand against the chest-plate of his armor. 

“Watch it, pup,” the eldest murmurs, but there’s no heart in it. Especially when you find the grin twisting the corner of his mouth upwards. “I’m okay. Is everyone all here?”

“We’re good!” 

The reply comes from Wind, the youngest already standing and looking around the new environment. His hands are on his hips and there’s a beaming grin on his lips. 

“Speak for yourself, kid,” Legend grunts. The Vet is pulling himself from a pile of limbs, buried beneath the forms of Hyrule, Sky and Wild. “You didn’t land at the bottom of the pile.”

A resounding groan comes from Sky as he weasels his way from underneath the others, offering his own complaint. 

“Four’s a little woozy, but other than that we’re doing fine,” Warriors inputs, his form crouched beside the mentioned hero. Four is on his hands and knees, panting as he attempts to right himself. Shifts are always a little different for him. Perhaps it had something to do with the other parts of him still constrained within one form, but he didn’t quite know. 

“I’ll be fine, Wars. Just gimme’ a few minutes.” 

Time is on his feet a moment later, turning back to you with a sweet smile and offering a hand. 

“Thank you,” you hum as you slip your fingers into his own. Twilight props you up as you begin to stand, his hand sliding from your back to a fraction lower. When you turn over your shoulder to shoot him a look, Twilight gives you a wolfy smile and a little wink before he begins to stand as well. You roll your eyes goodnaturedly and ignore the flash of heat that zings through your gut. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” Time murmurs, brushing the dirt off your tunic as you fix yourselves. “Anyone know where we are?” 

“It’s my Hyrule,” comes Sage’s voice. The Hero of the Zonai is looking down at his Purah Pad, scanning through something as he speaks. “We landed pretty close to Zora’s Domain. If we’re lucky we can make it there before nightfall.” 

Wild nods, brushing off his tunic as he confirms Sage’s words. 

“I recognize Inogo Bridge,” he muses as slings a Lynel Bow over his shoulders. “Is the road to the Domain as overrun here as it is in mine?” 

Sage hums as he filters through his weapon inventory, eventually summoning a Zonaite Sword that’s been fused to some monster part that the others don’t recognize. That Fuse ability of his is still something the Chain is getting used to. 

“It’s not so bad. I cleared it out before the last Blood Moon, but I’m not sure how long I��ve been gone.” 

Time leaves your side to join Sage and Wild. Cal fills his empty place easily, a little grin on his lips as he scans over your form. When he finds no injuries, his smile broadens, giving you a nod as you lean forward to pat his cheek sweetly. The pinkish hue of his cheeks is too cute. 

“I’m fine, Cal, really,” you murmur, leaning into the Hero as he blushes. 

“Just checking, is all.” 

You smile, pecking Cal’s cheek as you leave his side to join the other heroes. Time has his arms crossed over his chest as Sage speaks, his one eye still shut and his armor glinting in the sun. 

“Okay,” the Hero of Time begins, scanning over the Chain as he mulls over his words. “We move in an hour. That should give everyone a chance to recover from the shift. We should prepare for a fight – with our luck, the road will probably be overrun.” 

The rest of the Chain offer various forms of agreement, beginning to move away as they shift through their various belongings. You pull your pouch to your front and untangle the strings as you rifle through the magically enhanced insides. Finding the bottles you’re searching for, you count the number of healing potions and fairies still on your person. Mentally accounting for the rest of the chain and the number of potions you know are in Wild’s slate, you hum thoughtfully. There’s enough. As long as nothing goes terribly wrong, everything should be just fine. 

A moment later, your name is called. 

Lifting your head, you find Sage’s eyes across the clearing. The Hero of the Zonai finds your gaze and lifts his hand to beckon you closer. 

“C’mere, sunflower,” he smiles, the glint in his eyes reflecting something deeper. His grin looks a little too close to a smirk, and your heart skips a beat. He wants something. “I need your help with something.”

You follow his motion with a silly tumble of your stomach. Sage never fails to make your gut flip and your skin warm. You’re so weak for this man and he’s not even doing anything. 

“What’s up, Sage?” 

The hero is already wearing different clothes from the ones he landed in. You recognize them – you’ve seen his barbarian armor before. He and Wild – as well as Cal, you’ve come to learn, each have a set of the ‘armor.’ You’re hardly sure it can be called armor, given how little it actually seems to protect during battle. Wild had mentioned the armor was enhanced by the Great Fairies, giving him some kind of magical boost during battle. You didn’t really understand it, but you believed him. The triplets were wonders on the battlefield, and with the addition of the armor, you could tell their prowess seemed to grow. 

However, though Sage dons the leg wraps and the chest guard, the helm is still missing. When you step closer to the hero, you notice he’s suspiciously missing something else too. 

There’s no paint decorating his skin. 

The fur of his boots and at his shoulders ruffles with the soothing breeze, and you desperately try to keep your eyes away from the toned lines of his abdomen. Sage, however, seems to notice your struggle, because his grin only seems to broaden. 

When you reach his side, Sage holds something out to you. 

A paintbrush. 

“Can you help me with this, pretty? I can’t reach my back as easily as you can.” 

You have to battle against the way your stomach flutters. Skin warming and fingers twitching, you reach out to grab the brush from Sage’s outstretched hand. 

“Are you sure?” you murmur. “I don’t know the pattern as well as you.” 

Sage gives you another grin, humming sweetly as he reaches for your hands. His skin is warm as he pulls you closer. 

“Of course I’m sure. I’ll help you, love. Just come with me, please?” 

The look he gives you makes your knees weak. His lidded eyes are filled with something you can’t decipher, and his pretty cerulean irises are peering down at you with something dark in their depths. The way he leans forward over you is troubling given the way your heart clenches. 

“Okay, if you’re sure,” you whisper, smiling back at the hero.

Sage leads you away from the camp the Chain begins to build. You’re not quite sure what the distance is for, but you assume he must want some privacy given how close the paint is to… 

Oh. 

Sage smirks as you begin to realize what he’s asked you to do. His grip on your hand tightens and you press your lips together to repress the way your cheeks warm. Your stomach flips and something hot surges between your thighs. 

“You finally realize what I’m asking you, pretty girl?” 

Goddesses, this man is too much for you. 

You offer Sage a look, feeling suddenly small beneath his heated gaze. His blonde locks are loose and hanging delicately around his face, and you want to run your fingers through the silky tresses. You wonder what kind of sound he’ll make if you tug on them. 

Turning back to you when he’s deemed the distance enough, Sage gives you another smirk and pulls you close. He clutches your hips in his hands, tugging you closer with lidded eyes and leans down closer to you. Your heart skips a beat as his lips graze over your own, and you surge closer to his pretty mouth. 

Sage chuckles, the low sound making your stomach feel funny. 

“Ah ah, sunflower…” he tuts playfully, squeezing your hips and pressing his waist into your own. “I still need your help – there’s no attack boost without the body paint, you know?” 

You huff, shooting him a withered look at Sage grins. The hero pulls out the paint he uses for such purposes, outstretching it towards you as he motions towards the paintbrush. 

“Please, my love? You can start with my legs.” 

You nearly roll your eyes at his honey-sweet tone, giving him another look as you accept the paint. Your stomach flips again when Sage leans back, resting his weight against a tree behind him. The hero spreads his legs a bit, offering you the space between them as he looks down at you. 

With something hot rippling beneath your skin, you realize what he beckons for you to do. Huffing, you drop to your knees at Sage’s feet and look up at him with your brows raised. You find the man already looking down at you with a toothy grin, and something feral in his expression makes you even weaker to his salacious smirk. 

“This what you wanted, Sage?” 

“That’s perfect, sweet girl. You know I love you on your knees for me,” he purrs. “You know what the pattern looks like?”

You offer a small nod, shifting your eyes to the empty expanse of his toned thighs. On your knees, your head comes up to his hips, and you’re given a beautiful view of his gorgeous legs. The little skirt the armor uses barely covers more than a few inches beneath his hips, and you’re given more than an eyeful of his pretty, bare skin. 

Turning back to the paint in your hands, you dip the paintbrush in the royal purple color and lift it back towards his skin. Looking back up at him once, Sage inclines his head in a nod and you melt underneath his dark eyes. 

You start at his legs, dragging the paintbrush across his right leg. On his outer thigh, you paint the crossing pattern that you’ve seen span over his legs. You definitely have not been paying close attention to the pattern that the armor always dons… 

Flushing at the memory, you feel your thighs weaken, so you spread your knees farther apart to counter the weight. Head spinning as you finish the first leg, you look back up at Sage. He’s still watching you, one of his hands lifting to brush some of your hair out of your eyes sweetly, you melt into his hand. He gives you an uncharacteristically tender look before he nudges you back to your job. 

When you turn to the other leg, you find the leather drop sheath encasing his upper thigh. The dagger in the holster glints in the sun, but that’s not why your stomach flips. 

“Can I…” you murmur, voice uncharacteristically weak. “Can I take this off? I think the paint goes across here, doesn't it?” 

Sage hums, a knowing smirk on his lips as he runs his fingers across your scalp again. Leaning his hips forward towards you, you feel another lick of heat flick between your thighs. 

It’s so… hot. Everything is so hot. You know he’s teasing you, but it’s working. 

By the Three, is it working... 

Sage makes no move to take the holster off himself, simply offering you his hips and looking down at you through his lashes. “Go ahead, pretty. Take it off f’me.” 

You melt beneath his gaze, shakily lifting a hand to his legs. Your brain is racing and your thoughts are so fuzzy. Sage knows exactly how to make you weak beneath him. It takes so little effort. In any other situation, you’d probably throw a playful swat for such behavior, but when Sage gives you that lustful smirk, you find you’ll do anything he says – as long as he keeps looking at you like that, you’ll do anything and everything. 

When your fingers find the holster, skimming across the pretty, pale skin of his inner thigh, Sage keens. Goosebumps ripple across his flesh where your fingers were, leaving a trail of little bumps in a pattern across his skin. Knocking his head back against the tree trunk, Sage hums out a sweet sound and pushes his hips closer to you. 

“Hnng…” 

Goddesses, does he make pretty sounds. 

You want to hear more. As his hips roll forward, you become more than aware of how close his waist is to your face. It takes every fiber of restraint you have not to drift your hand just an inch closer to the edge of his little skirt. 

Loosening the strap of his sheath, you begin to pull the leather from around his thigh. Dragging it down his legs, you drop it at his feet and look back up at him. 

Sage still has his head thrown back against the tree, his lips tugged upwards in a hazy look with his eyes closed. You’re so tempted to brush your lips across the span of his inner thigh, just where you need to paint. Your legs clench, the heat beginning to swell between your own thighs. Before you stand back up on your knees, the leather discarded at Sage’s feet, you indulge your fantasies. Darting forward, you drag your lips across the pale skin of his inner thigh, grinning when Sage curses. 

“Oh, Hylia,” he hisses, eyes prying open to glare down at you. You grin and Sage reaches a hand out to flick your forehead. 

“Keep going, sunflower. There’s still more to paint, and we’ve only got an hour,” he coos. “If you’re quick, maybe I’ll give you a reward for being so good for me.” 

You hurriedly dip the paintbrush back into the violet ink and Sage chuckles in that deep tone that makes your insides mushy. You finish the second crossing pattern on his leg before Sage’s eyes open again. 

Looking up at him, you lift off your knees and sit up. Now closer to his stomach, you hum shakily and whisper quietly. 

“I can’t remember the entire pattern on your chest, Sage. M’gonna need some help.”

“Of course, my love,” he muses sweetly. His hand is back at your scalp, gently scratching at your scalp and grinning when you keen into his hands. He loves when you go limp in his grasp. Oh, Hylia – he wants to see the look on your face when he yanks the strands back. Would you make a pretty sound for him when he does? Would you beg him to do it again? 

He wants to find out. 

Sage loves the sound your voice makes when you beg him so sweetly. He remembers the way your hips canted up into his own not so long ago, desperate for him to roll back into you as he pinned you beneath him. His eyes slide back shut at the memory, feeling his cock stiffen beneath the skirt of his armor. It twitches and Sage can barely contain the urge to drag your hand beneath the waistband to solve the growing problem. He can so clearly recall the touch of your fingertips against the head of his cock. 

Fuck, it’s so hot. 

“There’s a line across each of my ribs. They go around my back,” he manages to choke out. “Do those first.” 

You obey him without complaint, dragging the soft bristles of the brush across his chest just beneath where the chest-plate ends.  The bristles tickle across his ribs, and in any other circumstance, they might have elicited a silly giggle from the usually so stoic hero. However, Sage is far more distracted by the throbbing beneath his waistband to spare the attention for such sensations. 

As you lean back on your heels, tilting your head to assess if the short lines of pain across Sage’s abdomen are even, the hero chuckles again. Licking his lips, he gives you that feral grin that makes your heart clench. Pushing off the tree, he twists around to give you his back. 

“They go down to my waistband,” he murmurs. “You remember ‘em?” 

You offer a vague nod, too distracted by the cutting lines of his hips. Sage eats up the attention. 

With a racing mind, you finish the pattern, dragging the brush from mid-back downwards to the small of his back. When you lift a hand to the edge of his skirt, pulling the edge slightly to dip the brush beneath his waistband, Sage shivers. 

You grin. 

When he turns back to you, he speaks with a flash of sharpened canines. You nearly squirm at his feet, a notion Sage adores. 

“Now my hips.” 

You swallow thickly. 

Before dipping the brush back into indigo paint, you bite the edge of your lip and push back the smirk that attempts to show. You have an idea. 

“Sage…” you hum sweetly, leaning closer to the hero’s waist. Just an inch from the waistband of his skirt, you pull one of your hands up from the ground to rest against the bare skin of his hip. The toned skin of his waist flexes under the touch of your fingers, and you watch Sage’s closed eyes twitch. 

Perfect. 

“Can you help me, darling? I can’t remember how this looks?” 

Sage’s eyes pry open, seemingly with immense difficulty, and the hero’s dilated pupils meet your own. Blown wide with some kind of primal emotion, Sage’s flushed cheeks spread into a grin as he registers your words. You lean closer to his hips, your fingers delicately tracing shapes over his side. You try desperately to restrain a scheming grin when Sage pushes closer to your hands. 

“‘Course, my sunflower. S’just a triangle over my waist. I’ll help you.” 

When one of his hands reaches for yours, you beam. Sage gently lifts your fingers, pulling you closer by your wrist until your front is nearly pressed up against his legs. He looks down at you with that feral, dominant look he knows you love, and you shiver. Your heart thunders beneath your ribs and Sage adores the way you move so easily for him. Always so eager to obey his commands… Goddesses he loves you. He’ll treat you so well after this – he promises. 

Lifting your hand, he helps you drag the paintbrush over his right hip and carefully draws the triangular shape across his waist. He twists a little, allowing you to finish the shape at his back. With another silly grin, he begins to help you start the other side. 

“There you go,” he coos with batting lashes. “Doin’ so well f’me. That’s just perfect.” 

When you finish his hips, Sage helps you paint the three dots on his front before moving to allow you to replicate the same at the small of his back. 

Then, you’ve reached the part you’ve been eagerly awaiting. The last part of his barbarian armor – the handprints.

Sage twists back to his front, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead – a sweet caress compared to the way he’s been looking at you. He’s always so adoring in the way he treats you, even when he’s manhandling you beneath him. When he pulls your legs over his shoulders, darkened irises scanning over your bare hips, Sage always presses a chaste kiss to your calf to apologize for the stretch of your muscles. Always so sweet to the one he loves. 

“Thank you for helpin’ me. Now, give me your hand, sweet thing.” 

You obey, hand already outstretched with your palm facing skywards. Offering him the brush, freshly dipped in orchid-colored paint, Sage hums and accepts. He delicately cradles the back of your hand and begins to coat your fingers in violet ichor. The clay feeling of the paint sinks into your skin, and you sit obediently as Sage paints your palms. 

His eyes flick upwards to meet your eyes with another teasing grin. 

“You’re enjoying this as much as I am, aren’t you, pretty?” 

You nod, a matching smile on your lips. 

“Good,” Sage purrs, finally finishing the coat of paint across your palm. “C’mere then.” 

He twists to give you his spine first. You grin, reaching forward with your unpainted hand to pull gently at his waistband. Sage’s head knocks back as you nudge the skirt lower. When you can clearly see the small of his back, accentuated by his thin waist – his slutty waist, in your opinion – you lift the violet hand and carefully lay it across his spine. 

Sage hums, head still tilted backwards and his eyes closed. 

Before lifting your palm, you lean forward, eyes closing as your lips graze over the bare skin of his hip. Sage’s skin is hot, flushed red with the rush of warmth surging beneath his waistband. His cock twitches again. 

“Naughty…” he whispers teasingly. 

Twisting back around to the front and reclining back against the tree, Sage is careful not to smudge the paint you freshly smeared across his back. Inclining his hips forward again, the Hero of the Zonai gives you that feral look once more before his hand lifts and he’s beckoning you closer. 

“Just one more…” Sage teases, beginning to paint your palm once more. “One more and I’ll reward you.” 

You shiver, the rumble of his voice seemingly sinking beneath your skin to sink into your chest. He makes you so weak. Perhaps it’s something about the way dominance seems to radiate from him during moments like this. All he has to do is bat those blonde lashes and give you that feral, little grin, and you’re putty in his hands. Well, you suppose it’s not so bad. Sage always treats you so well. 

“Yeah, you want that, huh? ‘Course, you do… I always treat you so good, don’t I?” 

You hum in response, shuffling forward on your knees, “Yeah, I want that, Sage. Please?” 

Sage coos, a teasing smile stretched across his lips. He strokes one of his hands over your cheeks before it crawls behind your neck. Cupping your head, he runs his fingers through the hair at the base of your skull. Your thighs clench again. Sage does the same thing when your mouth is preoccupied with something else – running his fingers through your hair and pulling your face closer to his pretty hips. His head shifts between tossing back and staring down at your face, as if he can’t decide if he wants to give in to pleasure or if he can’t stand to look away. And he always sounds so pretty when you go down on him. 

“Ahh, I love it when you beg so sweetly for me, my darling. Finish this and I’ll give you what you want.” 

Releasing your hand, Sage drops the brush and lays back beckoning you forward with a lustful expression. When you shuffle again, inching closer, the hero pulls you forward by the back of your head and your stomach flutters. Offering you his waist, you lift your unpainted fingers with only a single tremor of your awaiting hand. 

Sage nods, inclining his chin in a command. 

“Pull ‘em down, pretty thing. You’ll need to see what you’re doing, right?” 

You huff, unable to offer a teasing remark in return, simply too transfixed on the sharp lines that lead down his waist. The v-line beckons you, guiding down where you want him most. 

Brushing your fingers across his waistline, you find the band of his skirt. Looking up at him once, Sage watches you with fluttering lashes as you begin to nudge the waistband. Tugging on it, Sage pushes his hips towards you to help you pull the skirt down onto his hip bones. 

It goes slow – tantalizingly slow. Revealing bare skin inch by inch, you lean forward to press a kiss to his left hip, but Sage’s fingers grip the back of your neck harshly. Tugging gently at the strands of your hair, your stomach flutters and heat prickles between your thighs. You let out a little grunt and Sage grins wide. His body shivers, seemingly pleased at the tiny sound of pleasure that fell from your lips. 

“Not yet…” Sage coos. “Be patient, sunflower.” 

You give the hero a haughty look, but obey regardless of the sweltering heat building in your panties. 

Weaseling the waistband downwards, you feel your heart jump into your throat. With more of his heavenly hips exposed, you feel another wave of heat flush through your skin. Each of your nerves seems to jump with adrenaline, and you eagerly lift your violet hand to finish the task appointed to you. Finally, you stop tugging at his skirt, leaving the waistband just above his dick. You know it’s uncomfortable, given how it twitches beneath the cloth of his skirt, flexing upwards at your teasing. Sage gives you an unimpressed look, motioning for you to finish. 

So delicately, you press your palm against his pelvis, the purple paint sinking into his bare skin. Fingers following after, you teasingly rest your hand between the sharp edges of his v-line – just above the throbbing muscle between his thighs. 

Sage keens, his head finally tossing back against the tree with another delicious sound. His hips push forward into your hands, tugging you closer to his waist by your neck. The other hand drops across his eyes, hiding his flushed cheeks in his elbow. 

“Hah… fuck.” 

With his arm hiding his eyes, you finally lean forward away from his fingers and leave a kiss on the edge of his v-line just beside your violent hand. Sage grunts, clenching his jaw as your warm mouth opens to drag your tongue over the dip in his hips. 

“By the three…” he whines, finally scrambling to tug at your hair again. Pulling you away, you drag your hand away from his pelvis with a feral grin of your own. Looking up at your work, you watch as Sage pants, his chest heaving with each breath. 

When he finally shifts his arm, his eyes prying open to find your scheming smile, Sage huffs and tightens his hold of your neck. Tugging you closer, he drops his other hand to slide two of his fingers beneath the waistband of his little skirt. Tugging at the band by his hip, he drags it another inch downwards with a primal grin. 

The paint must be working – that ‘fighting spirit’ finally kicking in. 

Wild had tried to explain it before; the magic the armor gives them. He said it enhanced his attack in battle, by somehow ‘bolstering his fighting spirit.’ However, when you questioned what that meant, Wild had gotten a little shifty. His cheeks had flushed and he rubbed his hands together, simply waving off your question with a simple “don’t worry about it.” 

But you’re not stupid. 

You’ve seen the way the triplets get a little more… primal with the armor on. They’re more aggressive, quicker to jump into battle in an attempt to burn off the adrenaline surging beneath their skin. It makes their eyes glint with something dangerous, and you’re not ashamed to say that you quite like the way they look. 

“My good girl…” Sage coos, still dragging down his skirt at a teasingly slow pace. “Will you help me with one more thing, my love? Just one more?” 

You nod before he even finishes his words. 

Sage grins, all teeth and darkened irises. 

“Hmm, thank you, baby.”

Then, Sage finally pries his skirt from his hips, letting the fur material slide off his waist and drop to the forest floor in a single motion. You only have a fraction of a second to admire his bare skin before his pretty cock fills your vision. Nearly slapping against his stomach, Sage’s dick twitches just once when you shift to look at it. The hero keens into your grip when you lean forward, painted hand sliding over his hip where you know the skirt will hide the smeared violet color. 

Sage’s cock, hard and already leaking at the pretty-pink tip, lays against his stomach. It ends at the tip of the purple handprint you had just pressed into his pelvis, almost as if you had known exactly how long his dick was. 

The Hero of the Zonai grins in that feral way, his form nearly radiating with primal dominance. He slides his other hand down across his stomach, taking care to avoid the fresh streaks of paint. Sage wraps a hand around his cock, tugging gently and stroking until it comes to its full hardness. He suppresses the sweet whine that desperately wants to escape – you have to work for those sounds if you want to hear them. 

“Open your mouth f’me, my good girl.” 

Your head tilts back into Sage’s hand, squeezing your legs together as something warm drips between them. Opening your lips, you look up at Sage as the hero smirks. 

“So good… thank you, darling,” he coos sweetly, moving his hand to run his thumb over your bottom lip with a dark look. Leaning forward, Sage spits into your open mouth with a smirk. 

Swallowing obediently, Sage hums happily and leans downard again to tug your lips to his own. Groaning into this kiss, Sage pries open your lips to lick into your mouth. Moaning happily, you melt into Sage’s hand, now returned to the back of your head. Sage kisses you wetly, saliva smearing onto your lips as he pants, still tugging at his cock. Pre-cum slides down the head, slicking up the length as he slides his fist over it with a whimpered sound. 

“Mmm…ah” 

When he finally pulls away from your swollen lips, you chase after his mouth with a sigh. Sage grins, his dilated pupils scanning over your flustered face with a haughty look. You watch him tug at his dick, rubbing your thighs to combat the throb between them as he keens into his own hands. 

“Sage…” you whine, trying to shuffle closer. 

Something flashes across Sage’s darkened eyes. 

“That’s not my name, sweet girl,” he murmurs with a frown. “You know better. C’mon, wanna’ hear you say it right.” 

Your stomach flutters, his teasing tone making your skin tingle and your head spin. You lean closer to his stomach, whining again. 

Sage frowns, pulling your hair gently to redirect your attention. 

“C’mon, pretty. Say my name – my real name.” 

Your eyes find his, tugging carefully on your bottom lip with your teeth before you whine out the name he wants. 

“Link…” 

Sage – Link groans, head tilting back to expose his pretty throat as he slicks up his cock again. Tugging fiercely at the length as his gut clenches, heat swelling and twisting in his pelvis with a sweltering warmth. 

“Oh, fuck…” he whines, pushing his hips closer to your face with a twitch of his dick. “That’s it, my pretty girl. Thank you, baby – thank you.” 

Just the sound of his true name on your lips makes him so aroused he can feel his cock throb painfully in his fingers. His hand tugs your head closer, now looking back down at you with those dark irises. Sliding his other hand away from his dick, Link allows your mouth to suck two of his fingers. Tasting the salty pre-cum coating his fingers, you shift on your knees again with a pretty sound. Link smirks. 

“Okay, my sunflower. You want your reward now?” 

Nodding, your tongue still flicking over his two fingers, you lean closer. Purple paint smears onto both your hands, and you know there are streaks of it on both of Link’s hips. You hope the other’s don’t see – or perhaps, you hope they haven’t paid too close attention to where the paint is supposed to go. You think you can feel little smudges of the orchid clay spreading across your throat where Link is clutching your neck, but you forget about it when Sage whines again as you lick over his fingers like you would his dick. The pretty sound makes you drip, and the panties you’re wearing are surely soiled now. 

“Yes please, Link,” you whisper. 

Link grins again, then pulls his fingers from your mouth and pulls you into his waist. Heat in his stomach and cock throbbing, purple paint decorating his pretty skin, Link slides a hand around his dick and taps it against your lips. 

“Good,” he murmurs, abs clenching as heat continues to stir. “Then suck and I’ll give you another.”

When an hour passes and you and Sage return to the temporary camp, the Chain turns to find faint streaks of smeared paint across Sage’s waist and a lilac tint on your palms. You’re both grinning, wild smiles on your cheeks as you step back into camp. Sage is in his barbarian armor, the skirt ruffled and twisted around just slightly and the helm now on his head. If Wild looks close enough, he can see a faint, dark mark on Sage’s inner thigh, just barely obscured by the skirt of the armor set.

“Are you kidding?” Wild exclaims as the two of you enter camp. He had to paint the armor himself when he could have just asked for you to do it? 

Wild and Cal are both in their barbarian armor, having painted on the violet patterns themselves. The former rolls his eyes as he watches Sage follow you, a smirk on his lips. He finds Wild staring at him and his expression only seems to grow more teasing. Cal shifts on his feet uncomfortably, finding your eyes and offering you a bashful look. 

“What?” Sage responds, his fanged grin still beaming. 

Wild grunts, huffing as he steps closer to you, beginning to pull you away from the other hero. The long-haired hero shoots Sage a glare, but the elder hero only seems to enjoy the spotlight. Wild wraps a hand around your waist, pulling you close as he finds a streak of orchid-colored clay across your throat – a fingerprint shaped print. 

“You have other armor that gives you an attack boost, you know?” Wild grunts towards Sage, jealousy swirling angrily in his stomach. 

“Yeah, but I wanted this one,” Sage smiles. “And our darling just wanted to help me with the paint – didn’t you, my sunflower?” 

You offer a shy smile to Wild, feeling suddenly flustered beneath both their gazes. 

Some of the other members of the Chain slowly begin to congregate in the center of the camp, drawn to the chatter. Wind remains over the ridge of camp, scouting the path ahead with Four. Legend scans over Sage’s slightly smudged paint and your ruffled appearance, rolling his eyes and huffing. 

“Could have been more subtle, Sage,” the Veteran sighs. 

“But what’s the fun in that,” said hero responds, sending Legend a grin. 

Legend simply rolls his eyes again, stepping forward and licking his thumb to scrub away the paint across your throat. You shrink under his gaze, feeling so shy with their attention now on you. Legend scrubs gently and you shiver at the feeling of his saliva against your skin. 

“Stay still,” Legend murmurs. 

“Sorry, Vet.” 

Wild, still at your side, pulls at your tunic and straightens your ruffled appearance, wiping away something at the corner of your mouth. You shy away from their attention with a flutter of your stomach. When Legend is satisfied, he sends you a knowing look before he turns back to Hyrule. 

Wild hums thoughtfully at your left, and you twist to face him. You tilt your head, silently questioning Wild’s thoughts. The hero follows your titled head, eyes dilating as he examines your swollen lips. Lifting a hand, he brushes over the bottom lip with lidded eyes and something dark flashes across his expression. 

Oh no – you know that look. 

“Wild…” you murmur carefully. 

The Hero of the Wilds meets your eyes with a smirk of his own, leaning close until his mouth is pressed against your ear. He breathes a warm sigh over your skin and enjoys the way you weaken in his arms. When he’s sure the Chain isn’t looking, he drops a hand to squeeze one of your thighs, briefly dragging a finger across the seam of your pants. You keen into Wild’s chest with a breathy sound and the hero sighs happily.

“After we reach Zora’s Domain,” he whispers, voice saccharine like the honey he cooks with. His mouth presses a sweet kiss to the skin of your throat, pecking it gently before he sets his sharp teeth against your shoulder. You whine quietly into him as they prick your flesh, and Wild bites carefully into your throat with a huff. “It’s my turn…”  

bonus:

sage, walking back into camp: sorry i'm late I was doing stuff

reader, emerging from behind sage: i'm stuff! :D

[drive-pdfs-and-stuff]

Hello! This is a blog primarily focused on making animal books (mainly Xenofiction) more accessible to those who can't get them legally (or don't want to support the creators)

I've made two separate drives that contain A LOT of pdfs of said books, such as Warrior Cats, Wings of Fire, Ratha's Creature, Watership Down, Survivors and many more you can see on this list

You can ask for the links through messages or comments!

More details about this under the cut!

Why not share the drives here?

Well, the last time I saw someone do that, the links got taken down, so instead I'll be sharing them through DMs!

Also, don't be shy to ask any questions.

There are two drives, the Main Books drive, and the Mature Books drive (which is mostly still a work in progress)

Please, specify if you want access to the mature books drive, and only ask for it if you're 18 years old or older, I will be checking if you have your age/age range in bio, if you don't have it, you can also say you're an adult when asking for it. (It's not a foolproof system, I know, but It's not like I want to ask for personal details)

The main drive has books that range from Family friendly to other series with an age rating of +13 or +15.

(I usually censor slurs before uploading the PDFs, but this time around, because of my own triggers, I haven't checked the contents of them and left the books the same as they were upon release, including slurs) (just because I left them intact, does not mean I agree with the usage of said words in the context of the books, which is why I added warnings for each slur in a document inside the drive) (I've personally censored every slur I've found in the books of the main drive, however)

The mature books drive has animal books that have a lot of content not appropriate for minors, such as animals going into heat cycles, uncensored slurs and a lot of other dark topics (like SA, for example). (Just because there's animal heat scenes doesn't mean that I condone the enjoyment of said scenes, if I see someone claiming to be zoophile wanting access to the drive, they will be blocked on sight) (This is not a safe space for anyone attracted to animals in such ways)

Some gross people have already asked me for the link to the mature drive, if more people like them keep asking for it i WILL DELETE IT.

For reference, this drive has books like Ratha's Creature and One for Sorrow, Two for Joy.

ALL BOOKS IN BOTH DRIVES HAVE A DOCUMENT LISTING ALL TRIGGER AND CONTENT WARNINGS FOR EACH SERIES.

The trigger warnings were sourced from book reviews and pages focused on giving content warnings.

Here are other questions you may have:

Can I share the link once I have it?

Yes! As long as you don't share it in public internet spaces (comments, public posts, open discord servers with huge amounts of people) it should be fine. I would love to make it public, however I also don't want it to get taken down minutes after sharing, which is why I'm limiting it to private links.

Can I take the PDFs from the drive and use them on my own drive?

Of course! The entire point of this is to make these books more accessible! Take whatever you need from here!

Have a nice reading! I will keep giving out the links for as long as this post is still up (or gets taken down or something happens to me lol)

[damnfandomproblems]

About 5796: Should I remind you that a 15 year old is the reason why a cancer patient who made NSFW artwork got ran off the Internet because said 15 year old spread lies and slander that the cancer patient amputated their leg for “fetish purposes” and falsely accused them of being a creep to the point where people doxxed them right down to the passwords to donation sites and they had to clear their whole Internet presence for the sake of their safety and then when the good natured people saw right through the 15 year old’s BS in the aftermath, the 15 year old ran?

Or that one time a fandom animator and artist who drew Warrior Cats and drew their selfsona who was the same age as them (she was 17 at the time she is now in her early 20’s) and shipped them with an older character. Minors as young as FOURTEEN at best interacted with or at worst, SENT NSFW artwork of feral and furry characters by the adults who were 18 and over made by the artist, all while calling the artist a zoophile and pedophile. Keep in mind that this is over NSFW artwork that the minors had ZERO business interacting with and adults sent PORN to minors.

Or the many times that minors repeatedly broke the rules when it came to 18+ spaces or “Minors DNI” labels in bios with entitlement and/or bargaining. There is a reason why most adults are harsh about this (even though they should not be acting harsh and mean they should be warning them and guiding them to spaces meant for minors), and it’s because minors are not just endangering themselves, they are endangering other minors. Plus, those adult antis that pretend to be the “good” adults? Yeah, there is a reason why people call antis predatory.

I should also remind you that teenagers can be cruel if they really, really want to. Aside from the first and second examples I gave, there is another serious one where a 14 year old girl was on Discord and interacted with an adult who was in her mid 20’s (she should know better at this point) and she was saying she was one of the “good adults” while sending NSFW ARTWORK of Cookie Run characters to said 14 year old and other minors in the Discord server. The mother became concerned after the 14 year old girl was sent to the principal’s office for harassing another girl in her class for shipping two Cookie Run characters and the mom saw her daughter’s Twitter activity and saw that she interacted with NSFW artwork despite being underage. Thankfully, she is getting the help she needs and has a therapist.

There are also underage antis just actively interacting with NSFW even with the 18+ label on the bio.

I would go on, but if I continue, this problem response would be just as long as most college essays, so I’m stopping here.

Minors, there is a reason why adults are excluding you from adult spaces and sometimes be harsh about it, because those spaces are meant for adults, and with every space and community, there is a creep or more lurking and waiting for ANY opportunity to hurt you. Now, the adults should be nicer about it and not be nasty and mean to you and just give warnings.

As a 26 year old adult, I am telling you this right now. There are adults that will label themselves as “the good adults” and if you see that, you need to run. A good adult would not be saying that they are “one of the good ones.” A true good adult would be making sure you’re safe and excluding you from adult spaces for good reason, because you’re an easy more vulnerable target. Yes, there are going to be minors with different levels of maturity, hell, I still act childish at 26 sometimes and I have a sibling who is 18 now and is much more mature than I am, but please, even if you can handle the adult content, please wait until you are 18+ to interact with NSFW spaces. It is for your own safety and decreases the risk of you getting groomed by a predator.

I already had to hear too many horror stories from the Warrior Cat fandom for instance of minors getting hurt and it became too much for me to keep seeing, so I just stopped actively looking for Warrior Cat Multi Animator Projects because chances are, at LEAST 5 of those animators will have skeletons in their closet and I would learn this the hard way by seeing a video exposing them as a creep. Same with the MLP fandom. Same with the furry community, and I left that community for that reason and the hypocrisy. I don’t want to keep hearing and seeing more of these stories piling up because minors are acting entitled to being in adult spaces even though possible creeps lurk in there and groom minors.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[deer-teeth-clangen]

🍒Cherryleap🍒

Warrior | 18 Moons | Cis Molly (she/her) | Bisexual

* Know-It-All

* Strict

Bio:

Cherryleap is a young warrior who is eager to prove herself. She is very by the book and steadfast in her beliefs- almost to a detriment. She tends to give “constructive criticism” a little too loudly and cares little for nonsense (though she will be caught occasionally looking longingly at younger cats hard at play). She has much respect for her elders and does her utmost to go above and beyond in her duties.

[tobiasdrake]

Can you make something out of the Manga panel where (Future) Android 18 gets mad over video games? Or Android 18 in general, like how she uses a fighting stance like Krillin's in the Buu Saga, and the kienzan on "Mighty Mask"? Or breaking Vegeta's arm?Just, a general Android 18(maybe plus 17, or about her relationship with Krillin) character and fighting analysis?

Oh, yeah, 18 is great. What makes the Twins stand out both as antagonists and characters is that they're a stark departure from everything we've come to know in Dragon Ball. Neither martial artists nor warriors, they're children at play gifted unimaginable power without an ounce of discipline behind it.

This gives them a sort of universal appeal for an audience. It's fun to watch them wreak havoc with their play, but equally fun to watch them grow and develop as characters. The Twins came into this world with a wealth of potential.

18 often gets labeled as the serious one of the pair due to her stern disapproval or boredom over 17's antics. But it needs to be noted that she's every bit as playful as he is. They just have different ideas for how they want to play.

17 likes to savor his entertainment while 18 likes to binge. They're both childish - in personality, I need to note, as that's Future 17 and 18 up there who've been around for twenty more years than their present counterparts. Their actual ages are never stated.

And they take turns ribbing each other for their respective immaturities.

I've always loved how 18's complaint here is that 17's behavior is unbecoming of a robot. She's just like, "Oh, male sentiments; Your human base is showing, bro." Though she does also ping him with some straight-up Boomer Humor.

It was the 80's.

To be fair, she's right. Like. I cannot stress enough that 17's plan for finding Goku is to drive around the world aimlessly until a Goku appears before him.

Or that 18, despite her pretense of being above petty humanity, is snooty and posh.

Did she come from wealth?

Did Gero kidnap rich kids? Are they the children of some higher-up in the RRA? Or is she just aggressively city? She has some opinions about rural life that you don't usually expect from an orphan or runaway or whatever the Twins were before Gero found them. 18 is inexplicably classist.

Though 18 did say ACAB so she's not all bad. Two whole pages of the manga are just 18 fucking up some cops.

Nonetheless, this is how you know she loves Krillin. Living on the Muten-Roshi's island in the ass crack of nowhere is a sacrifice.

18's fight with Vegeta fresh out of the lab serves as our introduction to the Twins as fighters. The main element this fight focuses on is how... unflappable the Infinite Energy models are. We see Vegeta's attacks mess 18 up a bit.

But the emphasis is on how cool-headed and robotic she is. She's taking hits, but she doesn't act like she's taking hits.

This is another one of those lines that Viz didn't quite translate well, as it's easy to take to mean that he's failed to do any damage to her at all. Which is visibly not true. Rather, he's saying she's not acting hurt; He got a good hit in on her but she's brushing it off as if she were still in pristine condition.

18 simply doesn't react to damage.

In Fighting Game terminology, 18 has Super Armor. She and Vegeta are evenly matched but her physiology, as a bio-machine powered by an Infinite Energy generator, is a world apart from Vegeta's.

Notably, a breakdown of all of the androids on a title page indicates that 18 is weaker than 17.

This was published at the start of 17's fight with Piccolo, so I assume the purpose behind it was to explain why 17 is evenly matched with the reborn Nameless Namekian when 18 was evenly matched with Vegeta earlier.

That or sexism. It's shonen. You can never discount that as a possibility, and 18 is one of like five prominent female characters in this entire manga - and the only one ever to be able to throw punches at a Super Saiyan level.

In terms of technique, the Twins have little martial arts knowledge or ki manipulation experience to draw from. They're amateurs fighting at an advanced level. More than that, they just woke up into this power yesterday.

So while they are capable of learning to draw energy from their generators and use it like ki, as seen from their Future counterparts, the Androids of the present haven't had a chance to learn that. They never use a single ki attack in the entire Cell arc. They understand what it is, they're never confused when others shoot ki at them, but they don't know how to do it themselves. They haven't had time to learn.

This is what makes 17's force field in his fight with Piccolo so shocking.

It's also notably drawn to not look like a ki barrier or something. The crackle of lightning around it and the mechanical "VNNNNN" sound effect gives it the aesthetic of some sort of electric field. It is nonetheless likely powered by his Infinite Energy generator; I think this is what gave DBS the idea to make his whole powerset lightning based.

For the present, the Twins are pretty basic fighters in terms of technique. They're what you'd expect of random kids with lots of power plugged into them. They punch and they kick. But their intense power and limitless stamina makes them very good at punching and kicking.

It's a shame Goku never got to fight them. I'd love to see what he makes of their style.

In addition to that fight setting up the Twins' fighting style, the end of 18's fight with Vegeta (and 17's subsequent shitstomp of everyone not Vegeta) also demonstrates our first glimpse into what makes these Twins different from their Future counterparts.

They aren't interested in killing anyone. It's not super clear why that is. "Something something Cell something something butterfly effect" is the general explanation for all the retcons. This is what sets into motion the idea that maybe the two of them don't have to die. Maybe they can coexist with all the other amoral big-personality super-warriors on Earth.

A hill that Krillin will absolutely die on even if nobody else believes in it.

IIRC Akira Toriyama has stated in interview that he likes for romances to happen offscreen because he doesn't feel he's very good at writing them. So he just. Doesn't.

In my opinion, this is what makes his romances some of the best in shonen. Dragon Ball doesn't waste time getting to the relationship, instead preferring to enjoy being in it. Toriyama gives us this:

As an aside, the way Yamcha leaps to retaliatory violence because a woman rejected his bro has always read as a major YIKES to me but I digress.

But then she sees Shenron, comes back out of curiosity, and overhears Krillin spending a wish from a magical wish-granting dragon to help her and 17 live more comfortable lives despite her rejection.

And we get a second, more conflicted departure.

And then seven years later:

You can see the appeal of Toriyama's approach to romance here. Like. If you're great at writing romance, all power to you. But if you know romance isn't your thing? As a Not Writing Romance romance, this is great. All the pieces you need to understand how this happened are there.

This is probably the best Not Writing Romance of Toriyama's career. And it gives 18 an inroad into the 25th Tenkaichi Budokai. Despite 17 being expressly the stronger, 18 features in both the first and last fights that the Twins are ever given.

While the tournament's ending is predominately a bit of a goof that 18 dominates, we do get a legitimate fight for her. It's not much of a fight, as she throws down with Mighty Mask, who is Goten and Trunks in a trenchcoat. But it does show how she's evolved into a martial artist, as the 18 of the present demonstrates the first ki attack she's ever done on-panel.

Future 18 also learned how to manipulate ki, but that was primarily done through your standard ki blasts. Lots of them when she's mad at video games. (Felt.)

But this moment implies a lot about her relationship with Krillin. 18 hasn't just figured out how to use ki; She's been studying martial arts with him. In this moment, 18 realizes that Goten and Trunks are too strong to tackle head on.

But unlike any fight the Twins have ever been in before, she has an answer to that. She's taken Krillin's style as her own and learned a better understanding of how to be a martial artist. She has Krillin's signature Kienzan under her belt, as well as remarkable control over it to only cut the costume like that.

And more to the point, she has learned how to fight as an underdog. Faced with the power that the boys possess, 18 cuts the knot. She doesn't have to beat them; She only has to make them lose.

And then that just leaves the true champion and greatest adversary 18 will ever face, the legendary Mr. Satan.

She does not win the tournament but she has the trophy in her possession. Bulma would be so proud.

It's funny to me that this begins a tradition of throwing fights in the ring to Mr. Satan after giving the other matches everything they've got. The progenitor of that tradition was an act of flagrant blackmail. Really goes to show how bad Goku remains to this day at reading dishonesty. Innocent to a fault, that man.

18 doesn't get to be involved in the stuff with Majin Buu. But she's never been a character who'd want to be. She doesn't care about fighting and defeating monsters and stuff. She's only ever been looking for a good time.

The series leaves her off in a place where we can feel confident that she's found what she was missing. She has a family that she genuinely seems to love, a relationship built on mutual respect and tenderness, and a fuckton of blackmail money to finally return to her apparently high-class roots?

She had to took a long and weird-ass van ride through the backwoods to get here, but she's gonna be alright.

[stxrrynxghts]

THE most underrated MB characters

1. Dhrishtadyumna: this dude is fcking underrated. No one likes him well enough to actually write a story on him, or give him the recognition he deserves.

He was the COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF of the Pandava army, and he did fight exceptionally in the War, and the reason he survived was definitely NOT pure luck.

Also, he gave Ashwatthama a strong fight when he tried to kill him sneakily.

2. Satyaki: again, gr8 warrior, amazing person, but recognition =0. No one bothers including him these days (yep, MB 2013, I blame you for this.)

Satyaki was the only one apart from the Pandava bros who lived despite being an active participant of the war.

He was also the VP of the Arjun fanclub, and he learnt stuff from Arjun so idk why he gets excluded despite being closely associated with the Pandavas.

3. Uttara: now don't get me started on this one. This girl is just your normal princess with expensive tastes (she did want the clothes of warriors for her dolls) and she is married to one of the best warriors of that time.

Flash forward, girly loses everything in the span of 18 FUCKING DAYS, while she is pregnant. And she ends up raising her kid (who will be the next Emperor) in a perfectly decent way.

Idk why she is underrated, or reduced to the always crying female, when you can do so much more with her character.

4. Kunti: now, Kunti IS well known but....for what? Abandoning Karna? Or apparently "planning" to make Draupadi marry her five sons.

This is one of the most strong women of the Mahabharata. She has stood like a pillar and withstood every wrong thrown in her direction. She has so many interesting relationships, like that with her bio family, or her kids, but we only care about Karna.

Kunti's life is a roller coaster, and it is extremely interesting. From being the kid who was sent away, to the mother whose kids were away from her and ultimately being cursed by her own son, she has come a long, long way.

I deliberately included those characters who have a direct impact on the story in some way.

[phillesterlover]

Kinda scared to post this on Twitter but when will people realize that qrting and talking about something you don’t like brings more attention to it than just simply ignoring something you don’t like/blocking a user who makes you uncomfy. People are gonna act every kind of way it is what it is and everyone has a different opinion about rpf and sexual content/jokes. If you don’t agree with what someone’s doing or you’re worried DnP might see it and be uncomfortable…just ignore it. That’s the best way to make something go away. Any time I’ve seen explicit sexual content about dnp on my Twitter tl it has always been through a qrt or indirect. Seems like you’re inadvertently becoming the problem you’d like to stop.

Also - Dan and Phil have been doing this for a long, long time y’all. While it doesn’t say anything about whether it’s ethically right or not, they’ve been exposed to sexual content about themselves online for over a decade. They’ve sought out and read/viewed some of these things as entertainment. I think that there are lines that they definitely don’t want crossed, which to me is invasion/inclusion of their families/friends who are not content creators, privated/deleted videos/posts being reposted. Other than that, I think they’re grown, internet savvy and can accept the fact that people write smutty fanfic about them. The same people I’ve seen mad about this situation also have several tweets referencing their formspring posts, which I imagine make them more uncomfy than a tweet about them having sex in 2024.

Now if you don’t like accepting sexual content about real people, THAT IS OKAY AND VALID. Just ignore it. It would be different if DnP were to come out and say “hey, this thing actually makes us super uncomfortable and we’d like you to stop doing it.” THEN we can all become internet warriors defending their honor. But if anything they’ve been pretty clear that they don’t care. So I wouldn’t worry about it on behalf of them.

Now about the minors situation, even if an account is not a private account, if someone has “Minors DNI” or “18+” in their bio/username then that to me is an automatic warning that explicit/nsfw content is possible. And even then, as much as I don’t want minors exposed to sexual content, let’s all be real here. Most of us were 15-17 reading mature fics on AO3 unfazed. We watched DnP start the skinfic and knew EXACTLY where it was headed. You can put all the safeguards in place and minors will STILL be able to access explicit content if they look for it. We can’t make it fully safeguarded, so the only thing we can do is just be responsible about the content we put out there and hope that it’s tagged properly.

Sorry about the rant, it’s just getting so annoying seeing this drama continuously pop up. See something you don’t like? Ignore it. DnP don’t need you to be their internet police for them. Writing something explicit? Include 18+ in your bio, tag your fic appropriately. Also, have a mutual/friend who posted something you don’t like- you could always DM them and have a convo before deciding to put them on blast and create a hate campaign against them. This is just my opinion though, so if you disagree, feel free to reply/message to let me know your take.

[entrusted-hatchling]

Rules | Timeline | Verses | Bio

18+ crossover and oc-friendly RP blog for Samus Aran, space warrior.

follows from @soul-sparx

[kingdomruined]

crínán. • physical. • about. • isms. • aesthetics. • connections.

aaron taylor johnson, gay, male + he/him → isn’t that crínán na tuaighe? i hear that they're (prince) mor'du from brave. i hear they’re 35 (unsure how old bc he didn't age while being an evil bear). they seem to be strong & proud, but also greedy & jealous. their aesthetics include starry nights outside, arrows and bolts deeply lodged inside festering flesh, shoulders drooped with the heavy weight of guilt weighing them down.

BASIC INFO

full name — Crínán Na Tuaighe also known as — mor'du, prince age — thirty-five (his soul is much, much older) gender — cis male, (he/ him/ his pronouns) orientation — homosexual fairy tale connection — brave clothing style — furs and leathers

PHYSICAL INFO

face claim — Aaron Taylor Johnson hair — brown / eyes — blue  height — five foot & ten inches build — broad af T. scars — one scar over his right eye, scarred tissue across his upper back from arrows, bolts and fire over the centuries he spent as a bear tattoos — n/a piercings — n/a special characteristics — old-fashioned, quiet, doesn't turn his back to people

PERSONALITY

positive traits — strong, determined, proud negative traits — greedy, jealous, egoistical, careless hobbies — other than trying to find redemption, he.. doesn't know

MEDICAL INFO

mental — healthy physical — healthy, though the vision on his left eye is not good phobias — witches eyesight — 6/20 (left eye), 18/20 right eye dominant hand — right hand alcohol use — yes diet — mostly meat, but he doesn't care

SPICY INFO

sexual preference — bottom (probably) kinks — breeding, scents, hair pulling, rough, edging, collars + leashes, restraints anti-kinks — gore/scat, blood play

BACKGROUND

birthplace — in a kingdom in the highlands parents — king duncan (deceased) siblings — 3 brothers (deceased) notable skills — bear shapeshifter

BIO

in  the  rugged  and  mist-shrouded  highlands,  where  ancient  stones  spoke  of  long-forgotten  tales,  there  lived  a  king  who  ruled  a  great  and  prosperous  kingdom.  this  king,  wise  and  just,  had  four  sons,  each  fierce  and  proud  in  their  (  and  his  )  own  way.  as  the  king  grew  old  and  felt  the  weight  of  his  years,  he  knew  that  the  time  had  come  to  pass  on  his  crown.  to  keep  his  lands  united  and  his  people  strong,  he  decided  to  divide  the  kingdom  among  his  four  sons,  sharing  the  power  equally.

but  his  eldest  son,  crínán,  the  strongest  and  most  ambitious  of  them  all  -  a  warrior  unmatched  in  strength,  and  in  his  heart,  the  seeds  of  pride  and  greed  had  already  taken  root.  he  refused  to  share  his  crown.  he  wanted  the  kingdom  for  himself,  believing  he  alone  deserved  to  rule.  when  his  father  passed  away,  crínán  defied  his  brothers,  shattering  the  unity  his  father  had  hoped  to  preserve.  the  brothers,  unwilling  to  bow  to  his  tyranny,  rose  against  him,  and  soon  the  once-peaceful  kingdom  was  torn  apart  by  a  brutal  war.

the  battles  raged,  and  crínán's  rage  and  lust  for  power  grew  ever  fiercer.  desperate  to  claim  victory,  he  sought  out  a  dark  witch  deep  within  the  ancient  forest  of  the  highlands.  she  was  a  mysterious  figure,  a  woman  of  shadow  and  power,  known  for  her  wicked  sorcery.  with  cold  eyes  that  saw  through  to  his  hungry  soul,  she  listened  to  his  demands.  crínán  wanted  strength  beyond  that  of  any  mortal—strength  that  would  allow  him  to  crush  his  brothers  and  take  the  kingdom  by  force.

the  witch,  seeing  the  darkness  within  him,  agreed  to  his  request,  but  she  warned  him  that  this  gift  would  come  with  a  price.  but  the  kind,  blinded  by  ambition,  ignored  her  words  and  accepted  the  deal.  she  handed  him  a  potion,  a  brew  thick  and  black  as  night,  and  as  he  drank  it,  a  terrible  change  came  over  him.

his  body  twisted  and  stretched,  his  bones  grew  and  snapped,  his  hands  became  paws  with  claws  sharp  as  daggers,  and  his  face  turned  into  a  monstrous  snout.  he  roared  in  agony  and  fury,  but  the  spell  had  worked  -  granting  him  the  strength  he  desired  —  he  had  become  a  gigantic,  ferocious  bear,  towering  over  any  man,  but  he  had  also  lost  his  humanity.  consumed  by  his  thirst  for  power,  he  had  become  a  beast,  cursed  to  walk  the  earth  in  monstrous  form,  unless  he  mended  the  broken  bond  with  his  brothers.

with  the  strength  of  ten  men  or  more,  the  bear  wreaked  havoc  across  the  land,  his  brothers  were  no  match  for  his  might  and  one  by  one  -  he  crushed  them,  leaving  the  kingdom  broken  and  bleeding,  sinking  into  darkness.  the  years  turned  into  centuries,  and  the  legend  of  Mor'du—  the  king  who  had  become  a  black  bear—  grew  into  a  tale  told  to  frighten  children  and  grown  men  alike.  he  became  a  shadow  in�� the  woods,  a  creature  spoken  of  only  in  whispers.  some  said  his  eyes  still  held  the  rage  of  the  man  he  had  once  been,  burning  with  the  regret  of  his  choice.

generations  later,  in  the  kingdom  of  dunbroch,  a  new  story  was  unfolding.  a  headstrong  prince  named  ivor  -  with  fiery  red  hair  and  a  spirit  to  match,  had  set  out  to  change  her  fate.  in  his  struggle  to  save  his  family  and  his  kingdom,  ivor  encountered  the  same  witch  who  had  once  cursed  mor'du.

he  learned  the  story  of  mor'du—the  tale  of  the  prince  whose  pride  had  destroyed  him  and  everything  he  owned  and  loved.  but  ivor  made  the  same  mistake  he  did  and  had  to  pay  the  price.  to  fix  his  mistakes,  he's  led  by  wisps  to  the  castle  that  once  belonged  to  the  man  only  known  from  legends  anymore.  he  found  him,  his  rage  unbroken  and  his  fury  endless. 

he  escaped his mighty claws,  but  when  they  met  again half a lifetime later -- ivor no longer the young fearless prince he met once upon a time ,  mor'du  would  not  give  up  that  easily.  this  time  they  fought  in  a  stone  circle  -  the  one  mor'du  performed  his  spell  in  and  exchanged  his  humanity  for  power  and  greed,  his  soul  bound  to  the  stones  forever.  together  with  his  brothers,  they  took  the  great  black  bear  down,  squashed  under  one  of  the  stones  -  the  very  stones  that  held  onto  his  humanity  for  centuries.  a  change  in  the  air  shook  the  earth  and  a  bright  glow  eradicated  off  the  fallen  giant,  but  when  it  subsided  they  would  no  longer  find  a  bear  slain  underneath.  instead,  they  found  a  man  -  drenched  in  bright  blue  light  -  just  like  the  wisps. 

he  ..was  alive. 

his  heart  drowned  in  sorrow  and  regret,  his  eyes  glazed  over  and  empty,  though  at  the  same  time…  gratitude. 

the  curse  was  lifted  ...it  seemed  and  after  centuries  of  hopeless  wandering,  the  prince  was  human  once  more, even if lost in a time and world that was not his own.  or  so  they  thought.  the  bond  with  his  brothers  could  never  be  mended,  so  regardless  of  his  very  soul  being  back  where  it  belonged,  every  full  moon,  mor'du  would  return  and  wreak  havoc  upon  everybody  in  his  path. 

maybe  one  day  he  could  earn  their  forgiveness,  in  life…  or  in  death.

[courageguided]

lance. • physical. • about. • isms. • aesthetics. • connections. • wants.

frank grillo, gay, male + he/him → isn’t that lancelot “lance” owain llyn? i hear that they're sir lancelot from the arthurian legends. i hear they’re 55. they seem to be courageous & selfless, but also lustful & violent. their aesthetics include ornate, polished silver blade of his sword, the steady rhythmic clanking of metal armor in motion, bending the knee for the royal throne in undisputed loyalty.

BASIC INFO

full name — Lancelot "Lance" Owain Llyn also known as — sir lancelor age — fifty-five gender — cis male, (he/ him/ his pronouns) orientation — homosexual fairy tale connection — arthurian legends clothing style — ...knightly ;)

PHYSICAL INFO

face claim — Frank Grillo hair — black / eyes — dark brown height — five foot & ten inches build — muscles on two legs (click me) tattoos — neck, back, left arm (inks proclaiming his love/loyalty to his king) piercings — n/a special characteristics — knight in shining armor syndrome, loyal to the last drop (it's almost silly), also wears a LOT of rings

PERSONALITY

positive traits — courageous, selfless, heroic, loyal, proud negative traits — violent, reckless, lustful, insatiable hobbies — heroic deeds, riding, sparring, knightly duties

MEDICAL INFO

mental — healthy physical — healthy phobias — n/a eyesight — 18/20 dominant hand — right hand alcohol use — sometimes when the occasion (his king) calls for it diet — whatever he finds tbh

SPICY INFO

sexual preference — bottom kinks — breeding, praise, hair pulling, nipple play, worship, choking, cockwarming, collars, watersports, public, somnophilia, probably more. anti-kinks — gore/scat, infantization

BACKGROUND

birthplace — borderland between brittany and gaul parents — king ban of benwick + queen elaine siblings — n/a notable skills — skilled sword fighter + rider

BIO

lancelot owain llyn’s story began long before he became a protector of the young arthur. born to noble but ill-fated parents , his father was king ban, a renowned but controversial man known for his fierce loyalty & unyielding ideals, & his mother, lady elaine. their union was one of passion & defiance & it ultimately led to their downfall. their estate was razed by enemies seeking to erase their lineage, leaving the infant lancelot orphaned.

unaware of his heritage, the infant lancelot was discovered by the mystical lady of the lake, who took him into her care. the lady of the lake, a being of both immense power & enigmatic grace, raised lancelot in the shimmering depths of her otherworldly realm. she sought to mold him into the perfect knight & man, instilling in him unmatched discipline, skill & wisdom. under her tutelage, he grew into a warrior of unparalleled ability, his swordplay honed to perfection & his heart tempered with a deep sense of honor. she gifted him a blade of exquisite craftsmanship & imbued him with the wisdom of the ancient fae. yet, despite her efforts, lancelot struggled with his nature.

deep within him lay violent & carnal urges, instincts that clashed with the ideals instilled by the lady of the lake. no matter how hard he fought to suppress them, he found himself falling into their grasp at times, fueling an inner conflict that left him questioning his worthiness. lancelot carried the burden of these struggles silently, his turmoil masked by his outward composure.

when the time came, the lady of the lake sent lancelot to the mortal realm to serve a noble cause. lancelot’s path was forged in loyalty to arthur’s father, king uther pendragon. a seasoned warrior even in his youth, lancelot was entrusted with uther’s safety & quickly became one of the most skilled & trusted knights in the kingdom.

but as the years passed, the shadows of treachery loomed. one fateful night, the castle—the heart of uther’s kingdom—was besieged by an alliance of enemies. lancelot fought valiantly alongside the other knights, yet the overwhelming tide of the attackers soon made it clear that the kingdom was lost. amidst the chaos, uther called upon lancelot to fulfill one final, desperate duty: to protect the heir to the throne, six-or-so-year-old arthur.

guided by merlin, the enigmatic sorcerer & trusted advisor, lancelot spirited the young prince away through hidden passages beneath the castle. ensuring arthur & merlin escaped into the wilderness, lancelot turned back to join the desperate fight within the castle walls. he battled fiercely, but the overwhelming enemy forces left him with no choice but to flee alone, his heart heavy with grief & guilt over the loss of the king & the kingdom.

for nearly a year, lancelot wandered the land, haunted by the memories of that night & the weight of his perceived failures. he lived a life of quiet sorrow, taking odd mercenary jobs while seeking any news of merlin or arthur.

then, on a fateful day in a bustling market, lancelot’s search came to an end. he stumbled upon merlin who reunited him with arthur, now seven years old & still under merlin’s care. despite their hardships, arthur’s spirit was undimmed, his curiosity & resilience reminding lancelot of the boy’s noble lineage. together with another loyal knight, sir ector, they formed an unlikely family & raised arthur in secrecy, teaching him the skills, wisdom, & virtues he would one day need as king.

lancelot & merlin had kept arthur’s royal lineage a secret, fearing for his safety & believing that he needed time to grow strong & wise enough to bear the weight of his destiny. under their watchful guidance, arthur grew into a capable young man, his courage & sense of justice evident even as he remained unaware of his true heritage.

through the years, the bond between lancelot & arthur deepened in ways neither had expected. lancelot’s unwavering loyalty & quiet admiration often gave way to moments of unspoken tenderness, where the weight of their shared trials drew them closer. in the quiet of campfires or the solitude of hidden glades, their shared burdens occasionally found solace in each other’s embrace, a rare & fleeting reprieve from the harshness of their world.

the journey to reclaim the kingdom was long & arduous. lancelot’s prowess in battle & his years of experience became invaluable as they rallied supporters, fought off enemies & confronted the remnants of the forces that had once destroyed uther’s reign. merlin’s magic & wisdom complemented lancelot’s strength, while sir ector’s steadfast strategic knowledge provided the group with a solid foundation.

when the time came for the final confrontation, arthur’s courage shone. lancelot, once protector & now knight, knelt before the future king, pledging his sword & his life to arthur’s cause. with lancelot at his side, arthur led the charge to reclaim the throne, defeating the usurpers & restoring peace to the land.

though the scars of the past remained, the kingdom began to heal under arthur��s leadership. lancelot llyn, no longer burdened by the failures of the past, found a renewed sense of purpose. he became not just arthur’s knight but his most trusted advisor & a symbol of unwavering loyalty. their bond, forged in fire & strengthened by unspoken affection, would help keep the kingdom safe & sound for the time being.

with the opening of portals connecting all known & unknown realms, worry seeps back into lancelot's every step, but he was forever determined to protect his king - come what may.

[wsjyuyuyuau]

Android 18 (Dragon Ball)

Name: Android 18

Series: Dragon Ball

Gender: Female

Status: Alive

Family: Android 17 and Android 16 (Brothers), Krillin (Husband), Marron (Daughter)

Flower Motif: Chilean Lantern Tree (Crinodendron hookerianum)

Flower Meaning: Captivation

Weapon of Choice: Bazooka (Android 18) and Gauntlets (Marron)

Associated With: Interdimensional Hero Club

Hero Form Appearance: A combination of a warrior’s garb and YuYuYu’s Hero Form outfits. The undersuit of the outfit is a jet black so the pinkish-red of the main outfit can shine through. The main outfit is a pinkish red all about, with the accent colors being white, gray, black, yellow, dark blue, light pink, and gold + silver. The boots, wristbands, belt, and neckpiece all have subtle patterns inspired by the Chilean lantern tree’s flowers, with the only other accessory being two hair clips that 18 wears in her hair that look like the flowers of the Chilean lantern tree. The flower’s petal shape can be seen in the tailcoat, top, sleeves, and the collar. Oh, and Marron (Who fights alongside her) gets a very identical fit.

Full Bloom Gauge Location: Left Thigh (18), Chest (Marron)

Guardian: Sol (Based on the Norse Sun Goddess of the same name)

Favorite Food: Fried rice

Parallel To: None

Bio: Created by Dr. Gero, Androids 17 and 18 were built to wreak havoc upon the world. Their rampage was stopped by an even greater threat in the form of Cell, who absorbed the two adolescent cyborgs to attain perfection. After Cell was defeated, both androids would be restored and reformed, with Android 18 marrying Krillin while Android 17 became a park ranger.

[batrogers]

That Broken Promise: A Link's Meet AU

When Koume and Kotake trick Link into pulling the Master Sword free of the Temple of Time, ten years after he placed it there to return himself to his own past, the world shatters around them and many of the Heroes across time are dragged together to stabilize a broken world.

How will they restore each other to their homes and families? Can they even get along long enough to find a solution without dying to one world or another or, worse, killing each other?

[Summary Post of art and fic content about this project of mine.]

I made a sideblog just for archiving the stuff here!

Click here to see my AO3 masterpost(s) for the whole body of my Zelda fanfics

Content Warnings for the series: The series will include 18+/Explicit fic and art (accordingly marked), angst, trauma, rape, graphic violence, temporary character death, minor/side character death, interpersonal violence between the Links, gender and sexuality headcanons, and Linkshipping.

Character List, with in-universe names and links to each respective bio:

The Zelda timeline as I will be using it personally

Skyloft = Skyward Sword, 24

Minish = Minish Cap, Four Swords, 20

Kokiri = Ocarina of Time, Majora's Mask, Hyrule Warriors, 20 [27?]

Outset = Wind Waker, Phantom Hourglass, Hyrule Warriors, 22[?]

Chief = Spirit Tracks, Tri Force Heroes, Hyrule Warriors, 27 [29]

Ordon = Twilight Princess, 29

Four = Four Swords Adventures (Manga + Game), 24

Prince = Hyrule Warriors, Tri Force Heroes, 25

Rabbit = Link to the Past, Oracle of Ages, Link's Awakening, Oracle of Seasons, 26

Smith = Link Between Worlds, Tri Force Heroes, 26

Far = Legend of Zelda (1986), Adventure of Link, 20

Hateno = Breath of the Wild, Tears of the Kingdom, 29

Plus a few others! The Fierce Deity The First Hero The Hero of Men Ravio

The AO3 Series (This will primarily be fanfic-based with occasional art, no comic is planned.)

My Messy Linkverse Playlist (in very rough timeline/story order)

Overall Series songs: Sons of Tyr, by Hebrede Some Nights, by Fun. Legends Never Die, from League of Legends Surface Pressure, from Encanto One Voice, by The Wailin' Jennys

[arkham-dossiers]

Patient File: Cell

The ultimate creation of the brilliant scientific mind Dr. Gero, Cell is a bio-organic lifeform created from the cells of many powerful warriors such as Goku, Tienshinhan, Piccolo, Vegeta, Freeza and King Cold.

Beginning as Imperfect Cell, this monster was committed to the same goal as any warrior: growing stronger. For Cell, this meant killing people and absorbing their life force. His ultimate objective, however, was absorbing two specific victims: Androids 17 and 18, as the supercomputer Dr. Gero programmed to create Cell designed him specifically to evolve to his perfect form through their forced assimilation. Because he would be vulnerable pursuing this goal no matter how much life force he absorbed, nature granted Imperfect Cell a sneaky and sly personality. He was quick-thinking, cautiously calculating, and adapted well to unforeseen situations. This allowed him to evade the Z Warriors long enough to grow in power to the point of being able to challenge Androids 17 and 18. Despite Piccolo and Android 16's best efforts to prevent it, Imperfect Cell is able to absorb 17 by using 17's own teenage overconfidence against him.

Now Semi-Perfect Cell, his psyche undergoes a change along with his appearance. Overwhelmed with the dramatic uptick in power that came with absorbing Android 17, Cell becomes far more arrogant and less prone to thinking. He also becomes obsessive about achieving his goal of absorbing Android 18. Whereas as Imperfect Cell he could afford to take his time, as Semi-Perfect Cell he is like someone who has had a dopamine high and is now desperate for another one. As a result of these new factors, Semi-Perfect Cell is highly volatile and intolerant of setbacks. This might have led to his undoing had it not been for Vegeta allowing him a window of time to actually come up with a strategic idea, which he utilized to absorb 18.

At last, he becomes Perfect Cell. Whereas the great power gained from absorbing the first android had made Cell more unstable, the greater power gained from absorbing the second actually stabilizes him again. He achieves a state of zen, his purpose for which he was designed having finally been achieved. After this, there is nothing for him, nothing left in him....nothing, of course, but the influence of the cells that are flowing through his artificial veins. The desire for a challenging opponent to test his power against and validate his ego from his Saiyan cells, the sharp perceptiveness from the cells of Tienshinhan, the megalomaniacal theatricality and brooding isolationism from the cells of Piccolo (his first and second lives respectively), and the faux-regality and sadistic cruelty from the cells of Freeza and his father. They all blend together to shape Perfect Cell's personality, as well as his new motivation: live for pleasure, at the expense of everyone else, the "imperfect" lifeforms whom he looks so down upon. To this end, he initiates the Cell Games, aptly named since both things it accomplishes - fighting other warriors and terrorizing the planet's civilian population - are like a game to Cell.

Unfortunately for Cell, he inherits the weaknesses of those whose cells he shared as well as their strengths. Goku ends up playing to these weaknesses, exploiting the same flaws in Cell that Cell had earlier exploited in Vegeta. With the promise of Gohan achieving a higher form of power that would offer Cell the ultimate challenge, Cell deliberately stokes Gohan's rage until he transforms into Super Saiyan 2. Cell is then not met with the ultimate challenge, as a challenge by definition can be overcome. Instead, he is met with the ultimate brick wall, a power that so thoroughly dwarfs his own and a combatant who's all too willing to give him a taste of his own sadistic medicine. This triggers a complete psychological breakdown in Cell, which only increases when Gohan punches him so hard that he pukes out Android 18, thus reverting back to Semi-Perfect Cell.

With his perfection gone and no chance of victory, Cell initiates his self-destruct mechanism in the hopes of taking Earth with him, a desperate move that is thwarted thanks to Goku's sacrifice. But then, because his core nucleus was not destroyed, Cell fully regenerates as Super Perfect Cell, back in perfect form but now with his power elevated to match that of Super Saiyan 2 Gohan. While this is able to reverse his prior breakdown, the aftereffects are still clear in how much more aggressive Cell is. Worse still is the new conclusion he has come to thanks to all of this: he isn't meant to live just for fun, but for destruction. He isn't perfect because he's the most powerful, but because of the destruction that power can wreak yet survive through. Cell decides that Dr. Gero wanted him to upend the established order and eliminate all life in the universe, refilling it with perfect bio-organic life such as himself, which in his Perfect form he is capable of doing.

Thankfully, Gohan, with the aid of his father's spirit, is able to fully and finally obliterate the monster before things can reach that point.

Diagnosis: The biggest consistent in Cell's psychological makeup is his lack of empathy for others and lack of concern for anything beyond himself and what benefits or hinders him. He may show respect or even fondness for certain others, but it's never to the point where he de-centers himself from his worldview. This quality is pronounced to such a degree that it is easy to diagnose him as a sociopath, with added narcissistic personality disorder acquired in his Semi-Perfect form and becoming more severe in Perfect form.

This patient is extremely dangerous. Avoid at all costs.