#Nine Red Sheaths

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( eleventh installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , profanity , prostitution , bisexual! toji , smut , spit , gunplay

୨୧˚ an; if there are plot holes, no there aren’t. i just wanted an excuse to write toji suckin on some gun🧌

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

His hair is wet, sopping and adhering to the canvas of his forehead. Back at the hotel, Toji set the record for the world’s shortest shower, forsaking even a once-over with a towel in favor of slipping his clothes right back on. He doesn’t even recall the shitty excuse he tossed at his one night stand, not bothering to stay long enough to hear her response. Quickness was of the utmost importance, the man told himself to justify blowing through four separate red lights. 

Oh, the irony. Because now, Toji stands before the grand entrance of your extravagant abode with a palm flat against the column of wall beside the door as he staves off constant hitch wracking his lungs. Unhurried, stagnant, moving as though he was thawing out frozen limbs. The last half hour having been spent on nothing but hastiness, it is at this time when all of these troubles and concerns fight their way to the front end of Toji’s mind. 

The most prominent question: why?

Why did you ask him here? What use could you possibly get out of his shriveled husk?

Toji knows where your spare key is. Beneath the clay pot, the one flourishing with a bouquet of pastel Hydrangea flowers. Glaringly obvious to any happening stranger—Toji had barked at you endlessly to swap its hiding spot for one a little less in plain-fucking-sight, and everytime you told him you’d get to it. And you never did. Idiot woman. He steals a glance to the pot once more and notices the flowers’ stems have a lot more limpness in them than he remembers. Wilted. Poor little things.

Toji knows where your spare key is. He knocks anyway. The side of his fist pounding poplar wood once, twice, three times, and then he takes a step back. Blunted thumbnails pick at the callouses welded into the inside of his knuckles. 

He can’t even blink before the door peels ajar. Fast, like you’d been waiting nearby for him. 

The permanent slouch in his spine corrects itself when Toji stiffens. Shoulders squared, thick fingers curled into iron fists against his thighs. And like the colossal moron he is, Toji doesn’t speak. He just looks at you, standing there in the openness between door and frame. A downy robe obscures you in its rouge silk, cascading down just barely passing the center of your thigh. Your thigh… Toji observes more carefully, noting the bulky extremity protruding out from the side of your shapely leg. A boxy bulge sheathed under a reddish robe; the man scoffs. 

 “Thank you for coming,” you break the silence first, offering all-too polite benediction. Almost robotic, like you’d recited it from a script you memorized. 

“Yeah,” Toji replies, curt.

Mores standing, more silence. Melodic chirps from the crickets fill the chasms of dead air. 

Then finally, finally, you make a move. Toeing the door wider with a bare foot, stepping back to accommodate his bulky constitution. “Come inside.” It is a quiet command, the last words you speak before pivoting on a heel and heading deeper into your home. Toji acts on the instruction, plodding in your trail. He kicks the door shut with the outsole of his muddy boot. 

“Sorry,” there goes your second apology of the night, “I know it’s late.”

He doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn't care much for these pointless I’m sorry’s right now. You’ve guided Toji into the living room—back toward him, shifting weight between legs, plucking at the stitches along the seam of your garb. Toji stands merely ten paces behind, awkward in the way he is uncertain of what to do. What to say. Existing here, in your presence, in your house… it all felt so disgustingly unnatural now. He should've never come back to this place. God, he should’ve never done a lot of things.

“Why am I here?” Toji asks bluntly. Cutting to the chase, because the suspense of anticipating the worst has his stomach coiling in sharp knots. He’s waiting for a fleet of officers to come barrelling down your staircase, ready to gun him down where he stands. Or, alternatively and arguably more dread-inducing, you’ve corralled him here so you can collect proper reparations for all the anguish he’s put you through. Both would be thoroughly deserved.

A glance is thrown from over your shoulder. “I have something for you. Please, sit.” 

“Okay.”

Toji settles on the sofa while you pad upstairs. He never cared much for your couch, its expensive leather was stiff and unforgivingly uncomfortable. Like it was brand new. Like you never had time to sit in it with the schedule you worked. That was the setting for the rest of the room, as well—unlived in in appearance, cold and empty. 

Footsteps thud. He turns his head and watches you curiously as you reemerge from the second level of the house. A ball of worn fabric swaddles your fist.

Toji sits up a little, looking up to where you stand before him with the puzzling bundle of textile. “Is that my..?”

“Your shirt,” you finish for him, tossing the thing into Toji’s chest, to which it hits before tumbling limply into his lap. Not for a second does he bother sparing a glimpse to the useless shirt; still, he commits to your eyes, hoping that you can decipher the inquisitiveness in his. 

Gravelly and mystified, “what?”

“You left your shirt here the last time—”

“What?” A decrepit, holey tee shirt cannot be the reason why he’s sitting on your couch right now. In a bone-crushing clutch, the shirt sits braving force from Toji’s iron fist. He holds it with such conviction that his fingers activate a tremble.

You’re not stupid. You’re the most intelligent, most sagacious woman—person—he knows. So it really fucking irks him when you continue to play oblivious. 

“What do you mean, what?”

“I’m not here right now because of a dumb shirt.”

Your lips smack together pensively, looking fixedly at the drab, eggshell walls. To the porcelain tiles now scuffed from being grazed on by two bespattered tactical boots. To your own feet, to the perturbed curl of your toes. To anywhere besides him. Never had you avoided looking at Toji so unmitigatedly, as if locking eyes for even a split second would cause worldwide devastation.

He reflects upon the night you’d thrown him out, discarding him back to the streets where he belonged. “‘Get the fuck out of my home’, she says,” Toji mumbles a recitement of your own words, struggling to keep the muzzle on his distaste. Elbows on his knees, head in his hand, he taps his index to his lip in thought. “You hate me, and then suddenly you like me enough to return my damn shirt… What kind of game are you playing? Just fucking cut it out and be blunt about what you want from me because I’ve had a really shit day and I’m not in the mood to be cute for you, Y/n.”

You bear his outburst in stride, pulling a face of forlorn at his apparent exhaustion. You don’t shout back at him, nor do you comment on his attitude that you’d surely never let slide in the past. 

“Okay.” 

On tiptoes, you shuffle closer to fit between Toji’s spread thighs. There is a streak of hesitation that perpetually hugs around your body, he realizes, because every which way you turn oozes trepidation in its slow tempo. Jitters teeter down your person, oscillations so tangible that it sways your hair. “You’re shakin’,” Toji annotates, tilting his chin back to gaze up at you. Shaking like a leaf, in fact, and he wonders where all your composure has fled to. “Why’re—”

“I need to…” You take a pause to swallow down the thick ball of uneasiness clogging your esophagus. A sheen glints along your forehead, cheeks, neckline; fucking sweat. “I have to confirm something.”

You are off. This whole situation is off, and Toji can’t pin a point on any of it until…

Slowly, clumsily, your hand glides down the elegant curve of your oblique, toward the ponderous bulk against your thigh. With the brain of a seasoned assassin, Toji pieces the puzzle together with time to spare. Time he could’ve spent lunging at you, pinning you to the floor beneath his body weight, subduing your wrists in the cuffs of his own fingers. But he doesn’t. Be it a product of his own stupidity, his lackluster will to live, or maybe even his inextinguishable urge to devote his trust to you, Toji lets you draw open the curtain of your robe and pull your concealed gun on him. 

With heavy puffs of breathing, you direct the barrel of your handgun toward the centerpoint of his chest. It wobbles in a hybrid of uncertainty and inexperience, and there’s a cold, metallic rattle discernible the whole time. Toji admires the gun—it’s a small thing, some flavor of a colt pistol with a cask forged from iron. It looks weighty and misplaced in the palms of your delicate hands. 

“Nice piece,” he allots useless, apathetic praise. 

Evidently, you aren’t in the mood to reciprocate his quips. “Be serious.”

“I am.”

There is something picturesque about you in this context, it overpowers the innate fear he should be feeling right now. You tower before him like a deus ex machina, his own personal angel of death, granting him divine reprieve from this remarkably bleak concept of life. Toji wants to kneel, call you beautiful, and kiss your feet in appreciation.

“I wasn’t lying when I told you I liked you.” Those words contradict the finger you hold against the trigger. You shake your head, contracting the muscles in your jaw. “Was it just a version of you that I fell for?”

Toji concedes. “Yeah.”

“Do I even know you?”

His thick eyebrows furrow at the question. Do I even know you? “There’s so much I haven’t told you yet.”

You sneer, “you mean, so much you’ve lied abou—”

“No.” Toji holds up his hand, a pardon to interrupt. Because he has never spewed untruths in lieu of keeping his double life a secret. He never lied about his job, his addictions, his mental instability—there were no flimsy excuses, Toji had simply pretended his weaknesses did not exist. You made him forget they were even there in the first place. “No, I didn’t lie. Not once.”

“Then what purpose did you have for me at all?” Wetness glistened over rounded eyes, and wistful tears began to collect along your lash line. Toji watches a bead of sadness break loose, hanging from a cluster of eyelashes. Looking up to the ceiling, you attempt to blink it away. “I just… Fuck. I promised myself I wouldn’t sleep with you—wouldn’t get attached—but you… Why did you lay with me?”

The gun still aims to his heart. “I wanted to.”

“I feel like my head is spinning,” you weep, sniffling in the air. So utterly hopeless. “I feel like I don’t know you at all. Or your intentions.” You were a woman of prowess and authority, a real powerhouse in the sense that you always seemed to just know. Knowing what, knowing why, knowing how; he was so strangely drawn to that superlative superpower, finding your wisdom one of the most alluring things in the world. So perhaps that’s why Toji feels worse than cow shit right now, subjected to the awful sight of your realization that you truly don’t know who he is. The reigns were relinquished from your hands. “I’m scared, Toji.”

“Of me?” A stupid question he already knows good and well the answer to, but he asks anyway.

You whimper out your answer with a dejected nod. “Yes.”

The sorrow that oozes from your stare physically hurts, something akin to watching an eclipse with naked eyes, so Toji fixates on the handgun instead. The metallic shine indicates that it was recently purchased and most likely never used. You must’ve bought the thing specifically for this purpose.

“Are you going to kill me, Y/n?”

There’s no response. It aggravates him. 

“Are you?” Toji asks once more, projecting a rougher tone. Digging for an answer. 

Through tears, you whimper out a little reply, a question to his question. “Will you stop me?”

No. No, he fucking won’t. He sees through your plan; you’re waiting for him to lash out, to fight for his life. You want him to give you a reason to pull the trigger and prove your theories right—theories that he’s nothing more than a dangerous, vindictive animal hell bent on satiating his bloodlust. But Toji isn’t much of anything other than a torpid waste of oxygen. He won’t combat fate, he won’t put his hands on you even in the face of death. Toji takes your shaking wrist into his hand, keeping every last movement slow and sticky. You flinch away upon contact, but the look in his eyes was nothing if not assuaging, so you let yourself be handled. He draws you near, close enough to press the end of the barrel directly against his head. “Aim here,” he instructs with a lulling timbre, and fixes the thing to rest harshly on his temple. “It’ll be quicker. Less blood.”

Horrified, “what are you doing?”

“I ain’t gonna get violent with you.” Toji feels ready. This is okay, to die in a room as pretty as this one, facing a sorry sight as pretty as you. It’ll be a hassle to clean up for you, but you’re sharp as a knife. You’ll figure it out. His other hand, the one not attached to your forearm, rises to touch at your hip. Massaging over the thick robe, holding the dip of your waist with a vice grip. “If this is what I gotta do to prove myself, then fine. I’m ready, so take the safety off and put a bullet in my brain already.”

“N-no…”

“Yes.” He jimmies your arm, coaxing you to shoot. “Fucking do it, I know you can.”

“No!” You roar in his face, lips reeled back in a desperate snarl. “No, you made your point!” A knee sinks into the space of cushion between Toji’s legs, a hand clawing at his forearm. “Stop it, enough already!”

Toji is bemused by your fanfare of emotion. He barely winces as you work hard to pry your wrist from his handhold, scratching overgrown and timeworn acrylics into the tough flesh of his arm. “I can’t keep up with you, woman.” He tuts, observing the struggle. “Y’kick me out, then you call me back. Don’t talk to me for months, but you’re paying my rent. Pull a gun on me, then start crying when I give you a push.” Reaching up, Toji finds the warmth of your neck, cupping his palm to it. Sliding up and up, pushing your jaw with thick fingers because he needs you to stop focusing on the gun and start focusing on him. Your head is steered by his ginger hand, forcing your guys’ eyes to bridge. “You had me fooled. Here I thought you were more mature than whatever-the-fuck this is.”

“You want to talk about maturity?” Like a coin, the doleful effusion you bled was flipped into bewildered agitation. Fire ignites underneath your tongue and Toji braces for its heat.

“Yeah, sure,” ever the impudent asshole, “let’s talk.”

You give him a funny look. A you have a lot of fucking nerve look. “It’s because of your immaturity that we’re here right now!” Getting closer, your other leg fits across the opposite side of his, effectively perching yourself over his thick thigh. Toji grunts under the force in which you sit down. “You and your stupid flirtations. You made me believe that we could have…” Breaking off into a frustrated groan, you shook your head. “How selfish can you be, Toji? To pursue me when you know damn well what you’ve done is unforgivable.”

The tip of his tongue finds his molars, and he looks away for a moment to analyze your question. A moment that is cut entirely too short when you return the favor of maneuvering his head. “No, you need to look at me, too.”

There isn’t any elaborate reasoning he can present to you on a silver dish. When it comes down to the brass tacks of it all, that was just it: Toji is selfish. The only taste of love Toji had ever gotten was when he was young and dumb in his early twenties, spontaneously marrying the first woman who convinced him that he was worthy of tenderness. God, she was gentle with him, seizing his heart in her hands with so much caution and kindness that it made him physically ill. When she passed, he was positive that his heart had been buried alongside her deep in the Earth. That warmth never returned, not once in the years following when he’d find himself falling into strangers’ beds for a quick living. And he’d curse himself, reliving memories of her every night before sleep. So young and dumb, far too much so to appreciate what he had; what he’d never get again. 

But then you came along. 

Man, what a plot twist you were.

“You make me feel things.” What the fuck is he even saying? ‘You make me feel things’? That explanation was about as insightful as a child would be. Toji has never so directly spoken about his feelings before, this is challenging. 

Non-judgemental, you heed his message and urge him to continue. “Good things or bad things?”

“Uh,” Toji thinks for a second, “nostalgic things? I… Haven’t felt like this in a long time.”

“Felt like what?”

There comes a pregnant pause, and Toji takes this time to peer up at you. You sit tall on his leg, head at a tilt while you wait patiently for him to select a word. An attribute that you shock into his system every time you enter the vicinity. It’s a shitty, embarrassing answer, but he spits it out anyway. “Loved.” Using your quiet to his advantage, Toji prattles on. “Or somethin’ like that. I’m a fucking moron though, for thinking I could keep secrets. Selfish is a good way to put it.”

“You’ve killed people for money. You are the epitome of the word selfish.”

“That shit’s behind me.”

You reel, leaning back in his lap to gauge Toji’s expression. “Really?” It’s asked with skepticism, and Toji’s eye twitches.

“What, you think I’m bullshitting?” His hand involuntarily squeezes your wrist, a futile attempt to communicate his sincerity through touch. “No, I haven’t taken a job since last I left your place. I quit.”

This discovery retires some of that scorn. With a weaker voice than before, “officially?”

Toji gives you a subtle nod. “As much as you want to believe I liked dropping bodies, I really, really didn’t.”

There is a hint of a smile, just barely curling at the corner of your lip, before it droops back down into the biggest frown he’s seen you wear all night. “But then wait a second… Where have you been getting your income from? I stopped issuing checks when we—” You stop yourself from saying it. 

“Ah, I’ve just been,” shit, what a dilemma. “Getting some sugar.” It comes out with an awkward chuckle. It’s not a complete lie, sugar baby-ing and prostituting—it was all sex work nevertheless. He isn’t fond of the whorish implication, but you know him. You’ve seen him at his sluttiest, and you weren't disgusted.

“You’ve been having sex?” You veer in toward him. There is no shock or discomfort lacing your words—you know him—only bona fide earnestness. 

“Yeah.” Toji feels compelled to say sorry, but he doesn’t. “I needed the cash.” He doesn’t care to rally the question back at you, doesn’t care to know if you’ve fucked anyone else.

It’s subtle, but he can feel the pity radiating off you, seeping into his pores and burrowing under flesh. You look at him the same way you’d look at a scraped-up mutt abandoned on the side of the highway. He fucking despises that look from anyone else, but from you? It’s not so bad. If anything, it’s maybe even a bit soothing, the way you can console him with just your eyes. 

“Toji, let go of my arm.”

He does as told, dripping your wrist. The handgun falls to the couch, neglected, but Toji doesn’t get the chance to watch it because you’re shrouding the view. A buxom body nestles against the convex of Toji’s ample chest, two arms coil around his thick neck, fingers scritching over his scalp. You’re hugging him.

“Is this okay?” You must’ve felt him stiffen under the weight of your affections, perhaps you took it as a sign of discomfort. But that’s not it at all; the hesitation was a byproduct of Toji’s emotional stoicism. A defense mechanism he’s built for himself, successful in warding off contingence. Sex was okay. Sex was gritty and rugged and crude, enough to make him forget he was being touched at all. But this? Fucking hugging? 

How childish was he for submitting to something so teenage? This was the equivalent of popping a boner from hand holding.

And still… “I like it.” Once again, he lets you tear down his walls. Succumbing to you felt organic, almost as if Toji could just close his eyes and let muscle memory guide his limbs to their place. A heavy head knocks forward, plummeting in the valley between your breasts that have been exposed by the plunging neckline of your robe. Unbeknownst to you, the knot holding it closed had untied itself somewhere in the haste, and it has become more of a loose garnish to your body clad in nothing more than a matching set of dark, rebellious little underwear. Strong arms return the gesture, squeezing you to him so tightly that you must let out an audible oomph as your lungs constrict.

“I like it…” Toji repeats under his breath, nosing a path up to your clavicle. On you, notes of that saccharine, peachy body wash he’d once massaged into your skin. He takes self-indulgent whiffs, closing his eyes to hyperfixate on his sense of smell. “I like you.”

Totally abrupt, no sensibility in the manner, Toji blurts it out. Those three bedeviled words he swore to condemn to the pit of his guts, never to be released aloud. His conscience dictates his actions now, apparently, because the man has no longer any will to swallow his sentiments. After all the terrible, traumatizing shit he’s dragged you through, it’s the least he can offer. You’ve been deserving of those three words for a while now, Toji just never knew how to give them to you. As it turns out, it’s a lot simpler than his imaginations led him to believe. 

“You’ve never told me that before.”

He holds you impossibly tighter, hands flat and feeling the landscape of your back. “You knew, though.”

The hand in Toji’s dampened hair clenches when he ghosts his lips over that throbbing neck vein. “Still, you could have said it sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” He kisses you there, then kisses you again. Slow and tantalizing, just the way you liked. “Sorry for being awful.”

Teeth peek out and catch your skin. 

“I don’t—” you stop to gasp, cradling Toji’s head and holding him deep into the crib of your neck. “Think you’re awful.”

“Mm.” Blindly, he gropes the cushion beside his thigh, feeling for the discarded gun. Toji taps the cool metal against the chub of your cheek, attentive to the trigger—he never goes near it. Catching you in a lidded staring contest, “you use this on good guys, then?”

You pull a grimace. “I don’t use it at all.”

Toji is thoroughly amused. “You were gonna use it on me,” he chuckles quietly, so close to your pretty face that the point of his nose brushes yours. “Or were you just tryin’ to give me a scare?”

“I…” You trail off into brief thought. “I was afraid. I’m only a normal woman, Toji, it’s not everyday I find myself in the presence of a criminal.”

Again, he laughs, thumb sweeping back drapery that shades your thigh. You make no efforts to halt him, instead just following his line of sight all the way down to the black, leathery holster strapped high upon your thigh. Something about it is so enticing, the way fat pudges out along the sides of the tight strip. Like a garter belt, but a thousand times sexier. “‘Normal’ my ass.” Toji plucks the thing, gauging its limitation to stretch, before releasing it to snap back into place and choke your squishy thigh once more. You yelp, smacking his bicep.

“That hurt, asshole.”

“Sorry,” Toji apologizes loosely. He shakes the gun, hearing its rattle. “So this was a test, then.” There is no quizzical lilt, because there is no question about it. It was a test of trust. The weapon was a mere instigator, a tool to coax Toji into showing his ‘truest colors’; unmasking his supposed violent tendencies. All that trust you placed in Toji’s basket must’ve vanished on that rainy night, in the wake of his confession to murder. All that trust… It soured into bitter doubt. 

“A very idiotic, very flawed test,” you sigh, on the cusp of a humorless smirk. “You passed, by the way.”

“I don’t feel like I did. You thought that I would’ve hurt you.”

“I was just preparing for the worst case scenario.” 

The way in which he surveyed you was kindred to the nature of religion. Gritty fingertips explored your Holy face, and Toji worshiped every feature. Could you truly not see how sacred you are to him? Toji doesn’t caress the faces of his quick fucks, and he certainly wouldn’t surrender his life to them. 

“Put that thought out of your brain. Right now. I will never put my hands on you.”

You look flushed. Your cheek kindles warmth beneath his hand. “I want to kiss you.”

Toji’s instantaneous submission was laughable. Jaw unhinging, scarred lips parting wide, tongue twitching with anticipation. He opens his mouth for you and waits.

His face gets clamped in between two tenacious hands. Nails dig into Toji’s face as he’s yanked in to meet you in a teeth-clanking lip lock. It feels like a breath of fresh air, to kiss you like this again. Suddenly, he forgets what those strangers’ genitals tasted like. He forgets the taste of coke dripping down the back of his throat after snorting his fifth line in one night. Forgets the taste of soupy, liquor-flavored bile. All Toji knows is you and your nectarous little mouth. Your honeyed tongue is a tyrant in his mouth, dominating every wet corner, branding your essence into his taste buds. 

“I missed you,” Toji laments into your lips. He grapples with your hips, manhandling them into a constant gyration deep onto the crux of his lap. “I missed us.”

“I can tell,” you mumble and give a sharp grind against him. Against the prominent tent beaming up from the crotch of his pants, and he shudders. Then, you look at him stone cold sober from lust and ask him foolishly, “do you want to have sex right now?”

A nasally exhale huffs out, because you have to be joking with him. “My cock’s hard, ain’t it?” 

You’re a beacon of po-faced prudishness, all the while he pants for more. “Your erection is a given, considering the position we’re in,” close-grained and consolidated in intimacy. You tap Toji’s forehead, “how do you feel up here? I’d like to know.”

Such shitty pillow talk, but even still, Toji felt rosy. It made him feel acknowledged; recognized as more than just a dick to bounce on. Fuck, you’re really turning him on with that corny, mushy bullshit. “I’m good,” he tells you honestly. “I want you.”

I want to be inside of you.

“And you’ll let me know if that feeling changes?”

He groans against your cheek, “Jesus, yes, just fuckin’ touch me.”

“Ask me appropriately.”

Here he goes, sounding like a little bitch again. “Please, m-ma’am… Take it out.” Another memory to add to his internal cringe compilation.

Satisfied, you sit up on your haunches. “Lift your ass.” He does so, and accepts your help to shimmy the waistband of those constricting pants down to quarter thigh. Just low enough to make a spectacle of the hard rod straining against the thin material of his snug boxer briefs; gray and breathable and damp with his pre-ejaculant.

“Shit.” Toji huffs, giving a weak jerk when your hands begin the delicate procedure of feeding his slippery appendage through the piss hole at the front of his ruined underwear. He watches you pull him out with grace—he’s privy to the consideration you show to his most sensitive spots when you handle him like this. He thinks it’s endearing.

There his dick stands, tall and proud in the valley where both pairs of hips meet flush with one another. Toji looks down at the pinkish thing, watches the way it drifts back to hit his navel, falling under its own mass. “Rub me,” Toji whispers with his forehead pressed against the shelf of your shoulder, gazing down under heavy lids to watch his own dick drool spittle into his tee shirt. A hand precipitously hangs below his chin, fingers and palm working with each other to create a makeshift bowl. Assuming to catch something. 

“Spit, Toji.”

A second hand strokes the back of his skull, and the gesture emmenates patience. There’s only a split second of hesitation before he grants your vulgar request. Toji swishes his tongue around, collecting every ounce of saliva that coats the inner seams of his sticky mouth before opening up. The wet muscle unfurls, and a waterslide of spit cascades down into the palm of your awaiting hand. He’s rewarded for his efforts—good job, Toji—before you get down to business. 

His spit is cold when it smears along his tip. Toji bites his lip, sinks his digits deep into the meat of your ass, and fixates on keeping a composed breathing pattern because fuck, your hand was magical. You jerk him off leisurely, maintaining languid strokes that squeeze tighter near the peak of his length. “This alright?” You coo next to Toji’s ear, keeping your free hand busy playing with his raven locks. 

Toji makes a pitiful, throaty noise in response. “Do it faster.”

“No.”

He grits his teeth. “Unfair…” Toji’s hands tremble. To combat this, he begins grabbing at the robe still hugging over you, shielding that sexy body from his perverted glare. You make no indications that he should stop, so he doesn’t. Shucking off that expensive, red cape down your perfect shoulders, splitting the front open right down the middle. It’s a black, lacy little number, and the cups of your darling bralette plead transparency.

Toji pulls the thing up without dawdling, sighing blithely at the heavenly prospect of your perfect breasts bared and ready to be taken by his mouth. “God.” He captures your tit in one hand, squeezing it, playing with its weight. Your latter breast gets swiftly tucked between his lips, subjected to enthusiastic teasing from Toji’s tongue. He’s teething, rolling your budding nipple between rows of ivory fangs like he’s trying for milk. 

“You’re so hungry for it.”

“You've been depriving me of this,” Toji emphasizes his point with a long, keen lick to your cleavage. “An’ you expect me not to be starving.”

You pull him off your chest by the scruff of his neck, hoisting Toji’s heavy head up at your face level. Saliva moistens his lips, and you take your time swiping up his spit with your deft thumb pad. “Shall we get on with it, then?” Condescension and sympathy duel each other when you speak to him, like he is the unreasonable one for becoming a frenzied mess of sensuality. 

Toji is about to answer when it catches his eye. The glinting iron barrel, taunting him. It sits once more at the side of his thigh, untouched and forgotten. Begging to be used.

“I want you to fuck me.” There’s a brief intermission of silence while he collects the weapon, grabbing it by the cask and offering you its handle. You’re inquisitive, staring at the thing with uncertainty, so Toji lays his motives out across the table. “Hold this on me while you do it.”

You chortle, expecting his laugh to come next. But it never does, so you stop and raise a brow. “Come again?”

“You went through the trouble of buying this just for me, yeah?” It was obvious to anyone with two working eyes that you had no experience maintaining firearms. The gun was spotless, brand-spanking-new, and never had you mentioned to Toji that you keep something so dangerous in your home. So yeah, you can try to deny it all you want, but he knows that the only reason you now own a pistol is in case you needed to pop a cap in his brain. “Now I’m asking you to use it.”

“Toji,” you sweatdrop, “I don’t think…”

He takes your hand in his and presses the grip of the gun into your palm before securing your fingers around its silicon. Wide eyes look at him with pure solicitousness. “It’s okay.” Just like before, he steers you into position. “Jus’ keep your arm up like this. Hold it to my head. Yeah, perfect.”

“This is sick, even for you.” Despite your words, you don’t sound too dismayed. 

“Been rocking a half chub the second you pointed it at me.” 

“Filthy.”

Toji hums offhandedly, peeking down at your panty-clad pussy. Your undies were cute, he thinks, teasing the tiny ribbon bow perched on the waistband with a feather-light fingertip. Twin ebony fibers crafted the panties, just as chiffon as the bra. “Gets me off,” he shrugs, hooking his index beneath the gusset and dragging it to the side where it’ll stay in the crease of your thigh. Toji can feel the blaze of your core grate against his hand. You’re turned on. He looks back at you. “Putting my life in your hands.”

You’re shifting, stretching up a little higher to accommodate his cock. One of your knees props up at a right angle, the other remains firmly planted into the couch. “You’re so insane.” Ruddiness blooms along Toji’s neck when you hawk a wad of spit into your hand and bring it down to rub yourself. Lubricating yourself for him, moaning for him, fuck. He’s holding himself too. 

“Aintcha feelin’ powerful, though?” Toji challenges haughtily, slapping his swollen tip against your pubic bone. In response, he feels the barrel of the handgun sink a little rougher into the thin skin on his temple, and it makes him chuckle out loud. “Makes you wanna give it to me harder, don’t it?”

Tacky, spit-soaked fingers catch the angle of his running jaw with a grip so taut, it squishes his cheeks and forces his lips into a reluctant pout. “What am I going to do with that mouth?” You glower, and his mind races with a catalog of hundreds of different risque solutions to propose. However, he doesn’t get one out before your next order: “Put it in.”

And he does right away. A concoction of spit, semen, and cunt juice made the insertion process quick and painless. Without delay, your hips crash down into his lap, and it draws a paltry cheep past his clenched teeth. Fronts stick together thanks to the bone-crushing bear hug he ensnares you in. You give in, throwing your arms over his broad shoulders to attune to the sudden adjacency. He can feel a hard, steely nozzle trace around the circumference of his skull, ending at the base behind his head. 

And that’s how you two sit for a while; inside one another, breathing humid puffs of carbon dioxide into each other’s necks. 

“I’m… Gonna move now.”

“Please,” Toji murmurs.

 Hands walk down your spine, finding purchase on the malleable globes of your ass. Toji kneads like it’s dough; grabbing, pulling, grinding you back and forth. This is how sex should feel, you’ve made him come to realize. Equal parts raw and nasty in perfect tandem with intimacy and comfort. Hell, you have a fucking gun trained at his cerebellum, and even with that unusual addition, this is the safest sex he’s had in months. 

You are an expert in the ways of motion, methodically pirouetting those godsent curves in the most salacious degrees. “Oh God, don’t fucking stop,” Toji pleads, lapping against the slope of your neck. It’s killing him, the way you’re fucking his body deep into the couch like you owned it. It’s physically strenuous to keep his teeth at bay. “Don’t you fucking stop.”

The gun clinks against his head, the thud echoing in his mushy brain. “Hey,” you manage to pant out between short grunts. “No marks, y-you know that.”

Oh. Right. Stupid fucking professional job bullshit…

In the throes of Toji’s desire to swallow you whole, your warning goes in one ear and flies right out the other. “It’ll be fine,” he hushes you, skimming his sharp canines up your throat. 

“Toji.”

“How about here, then?” Before you could say ‘knife’, the tip of a tongue prodded into your ear. Swiveling around, collecting your flavor. Even here, you tasted clean. Like soapy chemicals, but not unpleasant. 

“Toji!”

You’ve stopped fucking him. Toji blinks, and suddenly, he’s being pushed into the back of the sofa by a hand in the center of his pectorals. It takes a second to catch his breath, but when he does, “what?”

Gawking, you palm your ear and cast a horrified look. “You can’t lick there! That’s dirty!”

“But I felt your pussy squeeze when I slid my tongue in—” He hacks around the foreign object. Did you just…?

“Your fucking mouth.” The barrel now lodges in his mouth, pressing back against Toji’s tongue hard enough to trigger salivary glands. It’s obvious that his nonchalance had rendered you harebrained, but thrusting the gun between his jaws like that was the last thing Toji expected you to do. It appeared that the surprise of it all was mutual—you, too, ogle your hand that holds the firearm. “Oh my—Toji, I’m sorry I didn’t—”

With haste, you move to reel back. But Toji’s reflexes are military grade, so he’s able to snag your wrist and hold you there. The shock subsided, and in its wake was the most intense form of pleasure he’d ever felt. Has there ever been a more pure forgery of submission than this? Choking on the loaded gun of your lover, hinging on each breath, wondering if your next will be your last. The whole concept is giving him a headrush far greater than any drug could. So Toji holds you in place, muffling out his pleas through the metal. Staring at you down his nose, eyes teeming with his adoration. 

I want it. And he means it. 

Thank God you’re not one of those dumb bimbo bitches he normally fucks with. You understand the message conveyed in his eyes. You see it. You’re not dense, you know what he wants, and you’ll give it to him. “Tap my leg if you need a break.” He won’t. 

The humping of his sore cock resumes, and any crumb of fortitude left within him curled up and wilted like the Hydrangeas on your front doorstep. He wilts too, collapsing back into the couch while you use his erection. 

You mewl contentedly, bracing yourself with a gentle touch to his pec. A stark contrast to the way your latter hand thrusted the piece in and out of Toji’s willing mouth. He’s not averse to something long and stiff down his throat—desperate times called for desperate measures, and if he had to suck a few cocks to cover the bills, then that’s exactly what he was gonna do. Though this was more enjoyable by miles, he thinks offhandedly while he stifles his gags. There’s no musty stench burning up his nasal cavity, no foul taste of unwashed skin. And a potential bullet was much more appetizing than the inevitable gluey spunk guaranteed at the end of every hummer. Spit bubbles up into a foamy mess at the corners of his lips as he sucks the gun. Sucks it like it’s attached to you, like you’ll be able to feel the way he coils his experienced tongue around the metallic muzzle.

“You’re really i-into that..” Awe infuses each shaky syllable, and Toji hopes maybe in some twisted rhyme or reason, he’s impressed you. Once more, he tries to talk back, but the barrier between his teeth results in utter incoherence. 

Orgasm was near shortly after, and the only warning Toji can supply is a broken half-cry, half-cough. His body began to jerk and twitch in strange ways. Like his right thigh, now sporting an uncontrollable tremble. Or his eyes rolling skyward. “You want to cum?” You asked softly despite your own impending climax, and you stroke the clenching muscles in his abdomen. 

“Nngh.” Fucking pathetic, but it’s the best he can do.

The muzzle clips the back of his throat, and tears spring into Toji’s trundling eyes. Everything gets brighter, and atmospheric sounds jumbled together into deadened white noise. Very distantly, weight lifts from his legs, and that’s when he can’t stop from diving over the edge of his orgasm.

Toji shakes, then shakes some more. Oh, his mouth is empty. When did that happen? Everything is wet and thick and syrupy. The brightness starts to fade, but even still, he has to cover his sensitive eyes with a forearm while he gasps his way back to reality. “Fu… F-fu… Ck…” You have diluted him down to nothing but a babbling idiot. Jesus Christ.

“—ji… Toji!”

Hazily, he peeks down from underneath his arm. You’re massaging soothing circles into his restless thighs that have still yet to calm down. But you’re doing it all with a quiet grin. “There he is.” 

I’m happy.

I’m happy.

Because you remind me that I can have good things.

There is your beautiful face, shining at the end of his orgasmic rainbow. Ready to clean up his mess, ready to talk him into slumber, ready to hold and caress under a shared blanket. Maybe he can deserve this—you—if he works hard enough.

Summoning whatever remained of his stamina, Toji lurches off the couch’s back to meet you into a sweet kiss. A simple kiss, devoid of any spit swapping; just his lips to yours.

“Here I am.”

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[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 06

Kinktober Masterlist coitus more ferarum - "fuck like animals" TF141 x f!reader Kinks > omegaverse, comeflation, hurt-comfort, fuck or die, medical discussions about dicks and puberty Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

An Omegaverse AU. You are a professional, one of the best. As a Guidance Omega, you are happy to lend your (well-paid) skills to any Alpha in need. However, when one of your regular clients asks you to help his friend through his very first rut, you wonder if there are some challenges that are beyond your expertise. 

You were no doctor, but that definitely did not look good. As you stood next to your long-time client, Captain John Price, the Apex Alpha of his pack, you studied his soldier’s condition. It was the man’s first rut, which was very odd indeed, but nothing about this situation was normal. Apparently, he’d been living as a Beta for years, thinking that he had just missed his parents’ genetic code. But, now that he had been exposed to some sort of Konni terrorist drug, his genes had mutated, awakening latent Alphic traits. 

“How old is he?” You asked. 

“Twenty-nine. Too bloody old to be going through a first rut,” Price sighed, crossing his arms over his wide chest, “Mine was painful when I was a lad, and my cock was half the size it was meant to be. To be stretched like this… We’re lookin’ to you, Omega. You ever seen anythin’ like it?”

You shook your head. You hadn’t ever seen this before. When Alphas went through their first puberty as younglings, their genitals swelled, growing three or four times their size, breaking the thin skin they had since their birth and replacing their reproductive system with functioning Alpha hormones and fully equipped physical traits. As they matured further, their genitals would still grow and change with them, but not nearly as much as the first time. The initial switch in puberty could be traumatizing for younglings that went through it in later years rather than earlier. 

“No,” you sighed with him, “If he were younger, we could obviously opt for the surgery, but this is his mature skin. It’s not the membrane. All those years as a Beta, and now for him to be going through this… The pain must be unbearable. Perhaps… no, no. I don’t think that’s possible.”

“What?” Johnny’s Alpha, Simon Riley, interrupted your thought, insisting, “Tell us. We’ll do anything. We need him to survive this.”

Any other time, you would say that this was a gross overreaction, but in this case, their new Alpha friend may lose his life if he failed to make the change. If his skin cut and bled, if his hormones failed to take over in his Alphic glands, he might not live to even have a rut at all. 

“And you’ve tried the warm baths? The ones with the numbing oil I sent you?” You clarified, wondering how he was responding to other treatments.

“Every four hours. They help him get through a few hours of sleep at night, but it’s not sustainable. He can’t even wear clothes for fuck’s sake,” Gaz, an old friend of yours who had known you before your work as a Guardian Omega, spoke up. He was curt, obviously stressed about his friend. 

You walked over to Johnny’s bedside and held his hand, 

“Hey, Johnny. I’m the Guardian Omega John told you about. I’m here to help you, okay?”

He writhed, sweat beading over his brow, and he glowered down at his naked body, fiercely glaring at his red, swollen prick,

“Serves me right for all the bloody wishin’ I did as a laddie for havin’ a bigger knob, aye?”

The fact that he managed a slight smile and a wry joke, even if it was said through clenched teeth, immediately won you over. This man was exactly your type; brave, funny, and built like a beast. You didn’t know if you could help him, but you wanted to try. 

“Johnny, we have to let your dick stretch to its true size. If it stays trapped behind your foreskin and the outer epidermis of your sheath, you could have internal bleeding, or worse.”

“I didnae ken the word epidermis could turn me on, bonnie, but the way you say it… proves me wrong.”

His soft blue eyes finally met yours, and you could tell he was just putting on a courageous face. He knew he was in trouble, and he was probably in more pain than you previously suspected. 

“What was your idea?” Simon pressed, coming to stand next to Johnny’s bedside, staring at you with some urgency. 

You looked down at Johnny, rubbing the back of his hand with your fingers, feeling the ridges of his knuckles,

“I could keep you in me. We could… soak the skin in the Omegan oils. It would be…” 

You stopped talking. It was ridiculous. And based on the look on all of the men’s faces, they couldn’t believe you were even suggesting it.

“You cannae do it, lass. It’d throw you into a wee heat, and I’m in no state to help you. Ah! Shite,” Johnny gasped, wincing in pain as his cock throbbed, obviously eager to be a part of a heat, hypothetical or not. 

“I’ll stay, love. You’re gonna need some help gettin’ yourself to that state and keepin’ it that way,” Price volunteered. 

“I can’t ask you to do that, John. You’d be in just as much pain as Johnny by the end of the heat.”

“Aye, but I’d be alive, and if it works, so would he.”

John was stubborn. But, he was right. If you were going to try to soak Johnny’s aching cock in you for hours, you needed to prepare. Gaz could see the gears turning in your head,

“You’re gonna need us in shifts, and you know it. This is gonna take a fuckin’ village.”

And so it did. You had John bring in supplies – food, hydration, lube, and every comfort item you could imagine needing – and you got to work. The first step was getting Johnny settled inside of you so that you could allow his skin to soften in the oils from your glands. But, you couldn’t produce those on your own. You needed to be worked up to it by an Alpha, preferably one who knew how to get your body to come hard and quick. Wash, rinse, and repeat. 

You wouldn’t be able to get any pleasure from Johnny’s straining cock while he was inside of you. Thrusting would be beyond painful for him, and it would be dangerous to his system. You would need to cockwarm him, and John and his men would need to make you come without fucking you. The only problem was, if you were made to stay in that deep, orgasmic state for long enough, your body would toss you into a heat, and that’s when the real fun would begin. 

In your heat, you would expose all of the Alphas in the room to your pheromones. They would rut, and they wouldn’t be able to rut into your cunt with it occupied, as it were. They had to endure the cycle without your soothing oils, sacrificing their own comfort so that you could help Johnny’s foreskin and swollen tissue endure the change. 

You thought it might work. It was the best idea you had, but the problem was staring you right in the face: Alphas in a rut physically needed to fuck for it to stop. If – and it was a big if – your plan worked for Soap and you could coax his prick to form a knot, you would then need to service the other three. They might fight each other to be first in line, they might hurt you. It was so risky, but it was a risk you were all willing to take in order for Johnny to get better. 

“Johnny,” you woke him from the nap he was taking while you were all gathering supplies, “We’re ready.”

“Mm,” he groaned, his eyes wrenched shut from the pain, “Alright, bonnie. I’m ready for you.”

“This will be the worst of it, I think. And,” you made sure he was looking into your face, “It will be very, very painful.”

He nodded,

“I ken it, lass. Dinnae fash yourself. Needs doin’, and I know you… Angh! Fuck,” he hissed, grabbing your hand tighter when a pang struck him, “You’ll be there for me.” 

“I will, Johnny. I won’t leave you. This is gonna work,” you leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, trying to be respectful of Simon’s claim, even if it was now – at least hormonally – invalid.

You stood on the bed, straddling his hips, and Simon and Gaz were there to help lower you into position. You wanted to be able to settle your hole on him as carefully as possible. No sudden movements. 

You poured copious amounts of lube down his shaft and used your fingers to spread it around the outside and inside of your entrance. You wanted him to feel as little resistance as possible. This was about comfort, not pleasure. 

“Alright, slow as you can,” you instructed, letting the two giants by your side lower you down into position. 

The moment your skin made contact with Johnny’s ruddy cockhead, he screamed out in agony,

“Creepin’ Jesus! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

“Hold him, John!” You called out to their captain for help. If Johnny jerked forward, he could rip his flesh and cause permanent damage. 

Price’s huge hands pinned his friend to the bed, and you could see tears streaming down Johnny’s cheeks. You wished you could take his pain away, but stopping now meant giving up on him, and you weren’t going to let it come to that. 

Another inch and you had half of his pulsing head inside of you. It was smooth and easy for you to take with all the lube, but if you hadn’t prepped yourself, Johnny’s giant phallus would be a challenge. If he lived, he would be quite a formidable Alpha. You couldn’t let him down. 

“A little further, Gaz,” you said in a low voice, not wanting to scare Johnny of more pain. 

Another inch and the crown popped into you, sealing itself within your warm, wet body. 

Johnny cried out, shouting for mercy, begging for them to just let him die. 

“You can’t fuckin’ die, Johnny,” Simon said, trying to comfort his mate, “C’mon, love. You can do this.”

“Si… please, I cannae…” Soap looked up at him, pleading. 

You dropped a little more, and each time you did, you felt your heart clench at Johnny’s groans of anguish, ready for it to end even though you had just begun. 

Finally, after more than thirty minutes of this terrible limbo, you reached his base and you settled your weight on his body, staying as still as possible to minimize his discomfort. 

“Fuck, bonnie. I cannae do it. I’m sorry, I’m… It hurts,” Johnny was sobbing, and Simon rushed to his side.

Price finally let him free, and he laid there beneath you, throbbing inside of you, aching in your warmth. 

“John,” you whispered, getting Price’s attention, “We should hurry.”

The captain took one last look at Soap and then came over to your side. He stripped off his clothes and tugged on his already-hard cock, drooling for you despite the drama. Your pheromones were strong even without a rut; it was why you had been so successful at your job. You just hoped it would be enough. 

Price sat on the bed next to where you were straddling Johnny’s cock, and he began to kiss you, making sure to take care not to move you too much, but still taking charge of your pleasure nonetheless. You felt his hand begin to rub your lubed folds, prepping your body for your first of many orgasms. 

“Mngh,” you gasped, “Your hands are always so damn good.”

“Love touchin’ you, sweetheart. Gonna make you come for me,” John purred. 

And he was right. It didn’t take much effort from him, and you were at the precipice of your first descent into the dark abyss of bliss, trying to come without accidentally humping forward, controlling your breathing, focusing on your core. 

“Motherfuck–” You let out a deep guttural groan, your belly twisting in on itself and punishing you for staying so still. 

“Good girl,” Price murmured, picking up the pace to chase another one down. 

Two, three, four more, and you were sobbing with pleasure. You couldn’t stop yourself from pulsing around Johnny, but he was trying to be brave. He hadn’t complained once during this part of the process, and as you felt your body produce its slick from high up in your cunt, you hoped his flesh would yield and allow his cock to grow. You weren’t sure exactly where your body was going to fit more of him, but that was a problem for later.

“There it is,” you told Price in a slurred voice.

“Your slick? Aye, I smell you, love. Smells like heaven.”

“Keep going,” Simon said over his shoulder, “Please.”

You nodded down at him, holding onto Price for stability, trying your best to stay in this submissive state without any overt movement. It was not easy. All you wanted to do was hump the life out of Johnny’s fat cock and make him drop his load inside of you, but you knew, logically, that couldn’t happen. So, you stayed as still as you could, holding your hips in place, trying to be as stationary as possible for him. 

The afternoon turned into evening and then into night, and Price had switched out with Gaz who was now buzzing your high-powered vibrator on you with a dark look in his eyes. 

“Babes, I think we have to stop.”

“No,” you gasped, sweat pouring off of your brow, “It’s working. I can feel him growing inside of me. It’ll work.”

“That’s not what I mean. You’re droppin’ into heat. Look at you, you’re burnin’ up.”

You knew he was right, and you also knew it was way too soon. If you fell into your heat now, the whole process would be even harder. The three Alphas who were helping you would have their own needs, soon. And you would be the only one able to solve their rut. 

Price was already not faring so well. He’d needed to step into the other room to cool off, and you could see his knot hanging heavy above his balls. He was producing so much of his own slick and come, and your body was feeding off of that knowledge. 

“Look, Kyle,” you nodded down at Soap, “He’s asleep, deeply, and he finally has some relief. This is working, and we can’t stop now.”

“Come again, then. Come for me right now,” Gaz used his voice to command you, and you were so weak to his Alpha's power that you did. He had forced you to come just then, and you had to clutch him around the neck to stop from sliding back and forth over Soap’s growing cock. 

“See?” Gaz glared at you, “You’re in the early stages now. Your fever isn’t the only bloody clue.”

He grabbed your hair at the nape of your neck and made you look down at his cock. It was huge, and the tip gleamed with an iridescent bead of his Alphic slick. That wasn’t his normal precome. It was a rut, and you were staring at the first drop of his breeding fluids, ready to be painted inside of you to eas the way for his seed to take root. 

“Yeah,” Simon sighed, showing you his rainbow-covered palm, “I’ve had it for a while, now. I was just hopin’ Johnny’d be better and we could stop the rut from setting in.”

“Johnny’s knot is just starting to form. If we stop, he’ll have to go through the rest without the oils, and he… mngh…” The vibrator teased your clit, making you feel another orgasm coming on. It was painful for you to come, but you could handle it. Overstimulation was not life-threatening. You gritted your teeth and continued, “He can’t do it alone.”

“Then, come again,” Gaz swiped a wet thumb across your tight asshole, pressing the vibrator even stronger to your body, making you tumble and struggle with another orgasm, “The faster he knots you, the sooner I can have this pretty fuckin’ cunt.”

“Sergeant,” Price snapped at Gaz, forcing his attention away from you, his voice full of a different kind of hunger. 

Gaz blinked, the dark look in his eyes giving way to his usual sweetness, and he started to apologize to you,

“Fuck, I’m sorry, babes. Just got a little carried away. You smell so fuckin’ intense in your heats. Your scent…”

“It’s okay, Kyle,” you kissed him on the mouth, “It’s not your fault. Just take a break. I can handle John.”

Gaz kissed you back and retreated, clothing himself and ducking outside on the patio for a smoke. As John came to your side, he helped you onto some pillows, placing them under your knees. 

Just when you were settling in again, trying to stay as comfortable as you could, you both heard Soap wake up with a start. Simon was making some tea, but he was right back at Johnny’s side. 

“Johnny, careful,” he helped him readjust, waiting for the cries of pain to begin again. 

But, the screams didn’t come. Sure, he didn’t look like he was having a particularly good time, but he was not crying out in agony. He seemed more surprised that you were,

“Oh, shite. Bonnie, that feels… better. Feels like I can breathe again. Fuck. The base though. It’s so fuckin’ swollen.”

“Your knot,” you panted, “Your knot finally has room to form. I can feel it stretching me.”

Price moved his hand to the edge of your puffy, aching lips, feeling around the place where your body met Johnny’s, checking to see how far he had knotted you. 

“Tha’s our good girl,” he smiled up at you, “Been givin’ him your come, love?”

You nodded, resting your head on Price’s neck, exhausted, but trying to push onward. Soap still needed your strength. 

“Let’s give him a little more, yeah?” The captain’s hand moved to your arse, dipping his finger into your tight hole, even tighter now that it was fighting Johnny’s raging erection for space. 

“Holy fuck,” Price moaned, “He’s got you so fuckin’ full.”

Between Soap’s spread legs, Price laid down on his belly on the bed and began to kiss and bite the meat of your ass, his warm, wet tongue heading straight for your hole. 

He began to lick the outside of your rim, lapping at you in big, long licks. His huge hands were holding your cheeks apart, squeezing their plumpness in his fingers indulgently. When the tip of his pink, writhing muscle reached just beyond the inside of your hole, you cried out, gasping from the sensation. John began to fuck you with his mouth, and you felt your whole body come alive with sparkling need. 

“Mngh! John, please!” You shuddered, your knees trembling on the pillows. 

John hummed, talking to you between decadent licks,

“You smell so bloody good, Omega. You’ve got me fuckin’ dripping down my cock. My knot is already so full for you. Ready for you.”

“Ngh! You’re comin’ on me, lass. I can feel you, and it actually feels bloody brilliant,” Johnny commented, moaning through gritted teeth. 

The man in your pussy was still so sensitive; it was hard for him to focus. But, Soap was growing. His knot was filling with his blood, hardening within you. You could feel it. He was becoming a true Alpha. 

“Are you okay, Johnny? Does it hurt?” You asked him, watching as Simon rubbed his hands all over his chest and belly, trying to sooth him. 

“In the best way, hen. It’s workin’. I know it is.”

Price’s mouth, and the relief you felt at Johnny’s progress, worked together in your nerves and allowed your muscles to relax. You melted into an orgasm over him, pouring your Omegan oils all over his skin. In that same moment, as your come surrounded Johnny’s immense knot, you felt it slip just that much further into you and plug your hole with its girth. He’d done it; he had knotted you without injury. 

“Unhgh! Fuck! Fuck, bonnie, that feels… oh, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

You screamed in a wild shout, coming even harder now that you felt Johnny’s thick cream burst inside of your belly, hot and sticky and trapped within you. It made you feel so full of him, his knot and his come leaving little room for anything else. You dared to roll your hips on him, helping drain him dry, pulling more and more come from his heavy balls and letting it churn inside of you, swirling around his cock within your walls. 

Price came back up for air, and after you caught your breath, he helped Johnny slip himself out. His cock was red and bruised from his ordeal, but it was the prick of an Alpha. He’d lived through the change. 

Just when you were going to lean forward and congratulate him, Price’s hands clenched around your shoulders and yanked you from the bed. 

“John! Wait, it’s –”

“It’s my turn, love. You’re in a fuckin’ heat for me, and I’m ready for you,” his face turned dark and serious, just like Gaz had done, and there was no man in the room capable of saving you from John Price. 

“Just let me have a moment. I’m so sore, John. If you can wait for–nghah!!”

He threw you down on your hands and knees and thrust himself inside of you, his large shape too much for your body to ignore. You felt the glide of his slick, and you knew he needed to rut inside of you. He’d mate with you, and it would take, even through your pharmaceutical-grade blockers. He was an Apex Alpha, and there were no drugs on the planet to keep him from completing his birthright. You were about to be bred. 

“Waited long enough, pretty girl. Johnny’s got you so warm and soft. Shouldn’t be long before you’re taking my knot, too,” he growled in your ear, laying over your body as he tried to squeeze every last inch of his shaft inside your hole. 

You could feel his knot swelling at his root like a giant’s fist, bigger than you had ever felt it. But, you’d never serviced him during a heat. It wasn’t done. Guardian Omegas were there to help with ruts; they handled their heats on their own. But, goddamn it was nice to have a real cock for it this time. You’d been single for a long time, and you’d forgotten just how luxurious your body made it feel when you did the right thing and fed a true Alpha right inside your core. 

His thrusts were lewd and cruel. John banged himself into you, a hammer and its tack, dragging you under him and covering you with his hulking body. He was trying to knot you already, but you weren’t prepared to take him. Your whole body felt like it would burn up if you let it, and your skin flushed hot with need. 

“John… I can’t. You’re too much for me. I’m not… Oh, God, fuck!”

Price didn’t listen to your pleas for mercy. Or, he couldn’t. When you looked at him over your shoulder, you saw his eyes, unfocused and half-closed, glancing down every few thrusts to stare at his cock as it whet itself inside of your pussy. He was gone. 

He shoved himself forward, planting his hand in the middle of your back like a hawk with its talons, clutching at his soft prey as he devoured it. His knot pressed, and then retreated, only to press again, determined to get stuck inside your cunt so that his come could fill your womb. 

One more hard thrust, and he was in. 

You wailed out in high pleasure, and you felt your body begin to shudder and tremble from the mind-breaking lust of taking his enormous knot. It was so heavy inside of you that you felt like you were being pushed down by it. When you tried to lift your hips to roll them against him, you couldn’t move. He was too big. 

“Tha’s it, love. Tha’s it. This cunt belongs to me.”

John began to come, grunting and growling out nasty words to you as he spilled his seed inside of you. You felt it pool within you, mixing with Johnny’s, overwhelming it and soaking into your womb. He just kept filling you and filling you; you thought it would never stop. In fact, your belly began to feel tight against the floor, swollen with his milky white come. 

But, your legs were dry. He had knotted you so tightly that nothing escaped. When his hips tried to hump you, reflexes from his sex-fueled brain, he dragged you back across the floor with his dick, strong enough to yank your whole body back and forth with his knot. You felt like a ragdoll, tossed about, stuffed and cock-drunk.     

When he finally did pull out of you, you felt the gush of fluids burst out of your hole and cover the floor. It was a sickening, oozing sort of feeling, and you had to catch your breath from the way your belly clenched and spasmed from the stress.

Just when you thought your ordeal was over, you felt another set of hands take their place on your ass cheeks, holding you down again. 

You looked over your shoulder, and you realized that Gaz had come back inside, ready for his turn with you. 

You started to protest, but John’s callused hand grabbed your face, lifting you up and setting your mouth on his cock, breathing hard and groaning,

“Good little Omega. Be sweet for Garrick, love. You’ll have me again soon. Quite the fuckin’ rut you started. Had no idea this pussy could be so nice. Might have to send you into heat more often.”

idek what the hell this is. someone put me out to pasture holy hell what is wrong with me

[silverskye13]

Enemy caretaker, but Wels helping Tanguish this time!

Maybe something along the lines of, Wels getting Tanguish to tell him what he sees in Helsknight in exchange for the help, if you’d like a slightly more specific prompt ^^

When it comes to the whole Hermits vs helsmets thing, Welsknight can, nine times out of ten, say with confidence, he's the good guy. The Hermits are all, barring a few hiccups from time to time, objectively good people. Helmets are the opposites of Hermits. Ergo, helsmets are evil. And if he didn't have logic to prove this, he had Helsknight. Helsknight who, as soon as he had the wits to start making his own identity, immediately started orbiting Welsknight like the most destructive, malicious moon might tear up the atmosphere of a nearby planet. He was mean, vindictive, cruel, heartless, brutal, and worst of all, perfect. Perfect form with the sword, with his knightly duties and tenets, hels, even when their fights were more philosophical, he always seemed to have the perfect argument. There was something uniquely insufferable about fighting a perfect enemy. Grinding.

{This wasn't about Helsknight.}

Anyway. Helsmets. Everything their Hermits aren't. And if the Hermits are objectively good, well, it follows they're all pretty evil. And a good person fighting an evil person -- the good person is in the right. That's what good is all about, generally speaking.

So, chasing Tanguish through a strip mine: Objectively Good. He is Fighting Evil. Sure, that evil is terrified of him, and keeps scrambling away like he thinks Welsknight is the devil incarnate, but... Objectively, Welsknight is doing the right thing, the good thing. Fighting evil. Fighting Evil Is Good.

{Subjectively, Welsknight admits to himself, begrudgingly, it doesn't feel good.}

They ran into each other by accident. Welsknight was mining. He wasn't wearing his good armor -- just some old chain beneath his tunic, so nothing would maul him. He'd been digging away mindlessly and broke through a wall into the bottom of someone else's strip mine -- probably Tango's. He came out of the wall right beside a pile of chests, and right beside the little helsmet sneak thief pilfering from those chests.

Welsknight and Tanguish made eye contact. Welsknight drew his sword in the time it took either of them to blink, and swung it. Tanguish dodged. The vertical slash that would have pretty neatly bisected the little helsmet missed by less than a fraction of a hair's breadth. It was so close, in fact, that it cut through the chain chord that fastened his cloak to his shoulders, so when Welsknight lunged forward and grabbed that cloak in his fist, the pins tore free, and Welsknight was left standing with a bundle of cloth while the helsmet escaped down the hall. Welsknight sheathed his sword and sprinted after him.

It was a long, dark, relentless run. They didn't shout at each other. There was no epic chase music playing. There was only the pounding of feet, the wind in their lungs, and the echo of their movements bouncing off the tunnel walls. Tanguish turned a corner, and so did Welsknight. Tanguish leaped down a drop, Welsknight followed. The little creature was nimble and quick, but he had no idea where he was going, and all Wels had to do was follow. They burst out of strip mines into a mine shaft, splintering the depths of some cave somewhere. The sound of feet on stone turned abruptly to the hollow thrum of old, rotting wood. The place was only half-lit, and the glittering red eyes of spiders high in the ceiling glinted with watchful malice. Far below them, amidst the old beams at a bruising drop, the clattering bones of skeletons started pulling themselves together, warned awake by breath and sound.

Tanguish did a snap turn on the wood, a quick dart off a side path -- or what would have been, if his claws hadn't slipped. The caves were humid, and the ground stayed just the barest amount of slick. Momentum caught him in its fist and he tumbled, only saving himself from rolling off the edge by digging in with long claws. Welsknight slowed his sprint, pulling to a stop before he could make the same mistake. He and Tanguish made eye contact again.

{Subjectively, it felt very, very bad when someone stared up at you with blind panic, and, in a snap decision, figured out they would rather drop to their potential doom than be caught by you. Which was exactly what Tanguish did.}

The little helsmet gasped, bright yellow eyes flashing fearfully. He let go of the wood, plummeting off the mine shaft's boardwalk to the hard stone below. It wasn't a killing fall. Welsknight knew that because, when the helsmet hit the ground, he let out a cry of pain. Welsknight stepped up to the edge, paused long enough to make sure he wasn't leaping into a hazard, and then stepped over the side himself. He landed safely, his momentum dampened by the splay of his elytra, and the feather falling enchantment that sparked off his boots when they touched the ground.

Tanguish was curled up on the ground not far from him, hands grasping at his ankle, a painful grimace on his face. When Welsknight landed, Tanguish snapped his gaze to him, breath coming sharp in his chest.

Welsknight swallowed hard, steeled himself, and drew his sword.

For every one of his steps forward, Tanguish scrabbled back away from him. He didn't stand -- maybe his ankle was broken. He kicked away with his good leg, and pulled himself with his claws and elbows until he backed himself against a stalagmite. Welsknight continued forward. He reminded himself to be relentless. He reminded himself to be steadfast. He reminded himself that this would not be the first time he killed a disarmed enemy, someone completely at his mercy. He had done it to Helsknight a few times before, and Hels had done it... several times to him.

{But Helsknight didn't show fear. Helsknight didn't cry out. He growled. He snarled. He spat. He did grandstanding. He spoke quiet, seething oaths. He vowed to do awful things, threatened, and made good on those threats sometimes. Helsknight didn't show fear. He did the thing that monsters did: when he felt pain, he made himself dangerous.}

Tanguish did not make himself dangerous. He didn't make himself monstrous.

Tanguish pressed himself against the stalagmite like he thought, if he leaned hard enough against it, he might fall through it into safety. He didn't watch Welsknight. He watched Welsknight's sword like it was a snake, waiting for that fatal strike, as though, if he could only see it coming, he might be able to better prepare for it. He shook, shivers that gripped him so violently they made even his breaths shudder. He would probably cry, if he weren't too scared at the moment to remember what tears were.

And then, as though all of that weren't bad enough, he begged.

Welsknight closed the final distance between them, heart hardened as much as he was able. He drew up his sword, laying his free hand across the blade to better steady it. He was going to do this right. One swift, well-placed stab, somewhere the little thing wouldn't suffer.

"Please. P-please. Please--" Tanguish hiccuped a terrified breath and stammered with every exhale, over and over, like a prayer. "P-p-p-please."

Welsknight felt something cold wash down his spine. His determined scowl twitched.

{Just be done with it.}

Welsknight drew his sword back an inch more, tilted his shoulders--

"P-please don't," Tanguish gasped louder. Quicker. Words tumbling out of him like a flood. "Please d-don't--! Don't--! Please don't--!"

By the time Welsknight had moved into his lunge, Tanguish was screaming, his voice echoing loud and terrified off every wall in the cave.

"--d-don't kill me! Please don't--! Please--!"

His shriek cut off abruptly against the ringing crash of steel on stone. Tanguish choked, peering at Welsknight wide-eyed through his crossed, shaking arms he'd thrown up to shield himself. He was crying openly, hiccuping gasps that shook his whole body. Very slowly, he glanced to his side, to the gouge in the stone where Welsknight's sword lanced against the stalagmite at the level of his neck. Welsknight could see in the helsmet's eyes the fatal arithmetic of where that sword would have gone if it hadn't twitched to the side.

Tanguish lurched for Welsknight's sword. It was a motion that seemed almost as surprising to Wels as it was for Tanguish. Welsknight managed to draw the blade back before he could grab it. He cursed himself for his moment of weakness, pulled the sword high over his shoulder to bring it down on the treacherous little creature--

"Wait wait wait!!" Tanguish shouted, curling up small, arms over his head protectively. "I'll-ll-l l-leave! M-my ref-flection I'll--" he looked up at Welsknight beseechingly, begging with every inch of his terrified posture. "Y-you d-don't have t-to kill m-me I'll g-go. Please. I d-don't-- I don't-- I d-don't--"

Tanguish hiccuped, and swallowed, and bowed his head. It was by far the most miserable, defeated thing Welsknight had ever seen a person do. Tanguish curled up on the ground, face buried in his arms to save himself the view of the sword, and shaking and crying, he whispered. "I don't want to die."

{There is nothing, objectively, subjectively, abstractly good about killing someone begging desperately for mercy. Even if that someone is Evil. There is nothing good about bringing someone so much terror, they sob at your feet, would rather fall to some terrible end then meet whatever justice you have in store.}

{And, on that note, there is nothing just about relentlessly pursuing and killing someone for... what? Rifling through some chests?}

{Well, it was more than the chests. It was the fact that he was a helsmet. But the chests had kicked this whole thing off and... Well... It just seemed a bit stupid.}

With Tanguish cringing at his feet, Welsknight felt uniquely ridiculous. It was all very dramatic and harrowing, and surreal. Wasn't this thing, effectively, a demon? Wasn't this thing evil? Why then, did he feel like such a monster doing what was supposed to be right? Why wasn't right easier to do?

Somewhere further in the cavern, some mobs groaned. Welsknight was almost relieved to hear it. Zombies and skeletons and creepers were simple, straightforward evils. So simple and straightforward, they were almost benign. They hurt, so he killed them before they could hurt him. They were merciless, because they had no reason not to be. There wasn't enough sentience or thought in them to be any way else. They did not cry or run or beg. They didn't look at him like he was...

... A monster.

Welsknight had lowered his sword at some point. He didn't know when. Probably around the same time Tanguish had buried his face in his arms and stopped begging, resigning to his fate. Welsknight sighed. He suddenly felt very, very tired.

An arrow fired from a skeleton in the dark sailed wide and rattled off some rocks somewhere.

"Can you stand?"

Tanguish flinched at the sound of Welsknight's voice, but didn't answer.

"I said, can you stand?"

Tanguish cracked an eye open and looked up at him hopelessly. He sniffed, and swallowed, and rasped, "N-no." His gaze flicked to his ankle. "It's-- it's broken."

Welsknight sighed and sheathed his sword. The barest flicker of something like hope sparked in Tanguish's eyes. It was a look that nearly guttered out when Welsknight shoved his hand forward. Tanguish flinched away from him again, and then watched his outstretched hand like he feared it would suddenly lunge forward and strangle him.

"Well, come on," Welsknight snapped impatiently. That look, distrustful and scared, angered him. He didn't know why, other than it galled him to know someone thought he was more likely to harm than to help.

Hesitantly, Tanguish reached out and took Welsknight's hand.

Welsknight forced himself to be gentle, to not rip the infuriating helsmet to his feet. He pretended he was a squire again, and there was a knight over his shoulder telling him gentle when you take a lady's hand for a bow, you don't want to hurt her. Tanguish was not a fair lady at court {quite the opposite, in fact}, but he had the fragility of someone whose wrist might break if Welsknight squeezed too hard by accident. He tried not to be too bitter knowing he'd inspired that, made the helsmet breakable with terror.

Tanguish had to lean on him heavily to stand. He refused to look at Welsknight, an expression of misery etched into every line of his face, a wounded animal forced to take shelter by a starving wolf.

Welsknight decided abruptly that he'd never felt so guilty in his life.

{This is ridiculous. He's an enemy. He's evil. He should be scared of you.}

Welsknight stamped down the little voice in his head. He reached down and scooped up the helsmet's legs. Tanguish screwed his eyes shut and hugged himself, an action that made Welsknight scared he'd drop him. His elytra flared out behind him, splaying into a shape like eagle's wings. Welsknight leaped into the air, hovered briefly, long enough to figure out where he needed to go, and swooped off down into a nearby tunnel.

It was cramped. The wind whistled by his ears, and his wing-tips brushed the walls and floor when he flexed them. It was an act of immense concentration not to lose his balance and send them both hurtling into a wall. Yet somehow, he still managed to be disconcerted by the fact that Tanguish barely clung to him. He had one hand pressed against Welsknight's chest, almost restraining more than it held, like he anticipated needing to pitch himself from Welsknight's arms at any given moment. The other hand had found Welsknight's chainmail where it peaked out from beneath his sleeve, and the clawed fingers tangled in the links, like only the metal was safe to touch. His expression was grim death, someone offering trust not because they wanted to, but because they had no other choice. Someone who was convinced they weren't being saved, but were instead only prolonging the inevitable.

Guilt like nausea bubbled up in Welsknight's stomach, and he stubbornly told himself it was the motion of flight that made him feel so wretched.

At last, Welsknight burst from the winding tunnels and into the bright day. He soared skyward, reveling for a moment in the feeling of stretching his wings without fear of crashing. There was a brief moment where, high in the sky and warmed by the sun, Welsknight felt some relief from his guilt. He even dared to wonder if he might impress the helsmet he carried -- surely he'd never flown before, or if he had, never on Hermitcraft, where there was only sun and wind and endless horizon, and not the twisted, smothering red of hels. But when he looked down, Tanguish's eyes were closed, that same look of mournful patience on his face, waiting, perhaps, for Welsknight to make the fickle decision of dropping him to his death.

"The sky is beautiful today," Welsknight said before he could stop himself. A peace offering. Look. See. I'm not a monster. A monster could never admire the sun. The sun, something of Light and Good. The sun, which burns away the darkness. The sun, which seemed to glare down at him like a great, judgemental eye, and make stark the deep, creasing lines of fear and strain on Tanguish's face. The helsmet didn't respond, besides a very quiet and appeasing whimper of agreement.

Whatever you say, if it means I'll live.

There was a very nasty, vindictive anger in Welsknight that wanted to drop the little beast. Expect the worst of me? Fine! Have it then!

The much louder voice of his guilt replayed for Welsknight the image of Tanguish curled up on the floor begging for his life, with a sword aimed at his throat.

Welsknight swallowed another sigh. He angled towards the earth in slow, gentle circles, spiraling to a landing outside of his tiny castle home on its distant shore away from all the other hermits. He carried Tanguish to the door, then stood in front of it awkwardly, trying to remember if he'd locked it. Tanguish cracked an eye open, glanced between Welsknight and the closed door, and then slowly, like he was scared Welsknight were under a spell that sudden movements might break, he reached forward and turned the door handle for him.

Welsknight awkwardly bundled them both inside. He dropped Tanguish as gently as he could manage onto his couch, and meandered to his brewing stand. He set to work on a healing potion, moving with practiced ease throughout the different barrels and boxes. Behind him, he could feel Tanguish's eyes boring into his back. He did not move from the couch. He didn't even move from the position Welsknight had dropped him in, except to curl his tail protectively around his injured ankle.

Finally, Welsknight's guilt and irritation got the better of him and he snapped. "Calm down, jeeze! If I was going to kill you, I would've done it in the cave."

Tanguish didn't move. He whispered a very obvious lie, in a voice that, rather valiantly, only just barely shook. "I'm calm."

"Then stop staring at me like that."

"When you change your mind," Tanguish whispered again, "I think I would... Rather see it coming."

"Change my mind?" Welsknight turned to face him, scowling. "What in hels is that supposed to mean?"

Tanguish didn't answer. He only watched Welsknight with that lamplight stare. It was deeply distrustful, and deeply unsettling. For a long moment, neither of them moved, or made any sound. Only the birdsong outside and the rolling bubble of the brewing stand reminded them that, while they both froze and watched, the world kept moving. Welsknight had to force himself not to fidget.

Eventually, Welsknight had to give up... Whatever weird little battle of wills they were doing. The imp was clearly better at his terror-stricken statue impression than Welsknight was at abiding it. He turned to his brewing stand, now finished, and quietly corked a bottle. He tossed it -- it was a bad throw -- and far nimbler than Welsknight expected, Tanguish caught it out of the air. He clutched the little vial to his chest, but didn't drink it.

Welsknight gave a scornful snort. "You know what a health potion is, I assume?"

Slowly, Tanguish nodded.

Agitation bolted through Welsknight like the liquid heat of a redstone charge. "Then take it."

Tanguish looked down at the potion in his hands. His eyes narrowed at it just slightly, the very first hint since this whole escapade started that the helsmet was calculating something.

"It's not poison," Welsknight said. "You watched me brew it. You'd know."

Tanguish glanced up at him again, cunning glinting in his gaze somewhere. It was striking. Glimpsing it sent a titter of unease through Welsknight. All the pathetic groveling had made him underestimate what he was dealing with, apparently. Tanguish was still a helsmet, after all. Though Welsknight couldn't imagine just what anyone would plot with a health potion of all things. He straightened slowly from where he leaned against the counter.

"What?" Welsknight demanded, when the silence grew long and uncomfortable, and the little beast still didn't move.

Tanguish watched him for another long second, braced himself, and said, "I am trying to figure out what happens when I drink this."

Welsknight frowned, pure, untarnished confusion pulling a snort from him. "Your ankle heals. It's a health potion."

"Then what?"

{... Then what?}

"Then you go home." Welsknight sniffed. "Wasn't that what all your dramatics were about?"

Tanguish, for the briefest of moments, managed to look insulted. But he was evidently still too scared of Welsknight to argue about whether those were just 'dramatics' or real fear for his life. Welsknight was quietly thankful for that. He didn't need to be convinced the panic was genuine. That look on the little beast's face would... Probably stick with him for awhile.

"Give me your word," Tanguish said very quietly, apologetically breaking the silence, "that when I drink this, you won't find a reason to kill me."

"I don't need to find a reason."

Tanguish's expression got just a little bit tenser around the eyes. He leaned over the side of the couch and gently deposited the health potion on the floor. Welsknight felt another flicker of irritation.

"Are you serious right now?"

Tanguish blinked at him.

"Just take the stupid potion, and scamper back to hels," Welsknight snapped in explanation, when all Tanguish did was stare.

"Not until I have your word," Tanguish insisted, not looking at him.

"Why do you need my word? If I was going to kill you I would've done it by now!"

"You stayed your hand out of guilt and pity," Tanguish murmured. Welsknight had to marvel at how well his voice made space for itself when it stayed so small and contained. "If I'm healed, there's nothing stopping you from deciding I'm a threat that needs dealing with again."

"Coward."

"Obviously."

That took Welsknight off guard, set his mind a little off-balance. He wanted to argue about that, needle at the comment and make the little pest angry. You admit it so easily. And then he had to remind himself that Tanguish was a helsmet, but, again, he wasn't Helsknight.

"I am not a knight," Tanguish murmured, apparently doing his best impression of a mind reader. "I'm allowed to fear for my life."

Welsknight tried a different tactic.

"You would seriously rather sit there with a broken ankle?"

"I can survive a broken ankle," Tanguish informed him. "I c-can't survive a knight."

"You survived Helsknight just fine." It wasn't supposed to be an accusation. It definitely, definitely sounded like one.

Tanguish squinted at him and said with equal, accusatory venom, "You're not Helsknight."

"You're right," Welsknight snapped indignantly. "Helsknight would've killed you. And probably told you all the reasons you deserved it while he did."

"He would have spared me," Tanguish said with a galling amount of conviction.

"No he wouldn't," Welsknight snapped. "If the tables were turned, and it were one of us Hermits caught wandering around hels--"

"He would have spared me then, too," Tanguish stated, with all the faith of someone dedicating themselves to a god. "He wouldn't have liked it. I'm sure he would get big and loud, and pace like an angry tiger, but he would find a line and would not cross it. He would make sure I knew he wouldn't hurt me. If I was truly lost and scared in hels, he would even try to help me. If I was being attacked, he would intervene. And he-- he d-definitely wouldn't come s-so close to killing me, that only his l-last m-minute guilt made him flinch. And I wouldn't have t-to cry and b-beg for that mercy. He-- h-he would g-give it f-freely."

As Tanguish spoke, his eyes narrowed and his frown tightened. His hunched shoulders squared themselves into something a little stronger. It was the look of someone committing to some great bravery. Someone who knew what they said or stood for might get them killed, but who believed it so whole-heartedly, they accepted whatever grim consequence came from it. It was a startling difference from the cringing helsmet on the floor of the cave, shaking and begging. So different, Wels was half convinced it had all been an act, that he'd been made a fool of, his emotions manipulated for some unforseen end.

{The other half of him looked on that conviction, that ride-or-die belief, and felt no small amount of envy. Welsknight wouldn't fool himself into thinking he was friendless. Even on his darkest days, he knew he was loved. But he didn't think any of his friends, when faced with what they believed to be imminent, unpleasant death or torture, would speak about him with such obvious adoration and conviction. He had no doubt, if he drew his sword right now and aimed it at Tanguish's throat like he had in the cave, and demanded the little devil take what he said back, Tanguish, cowering and crying the whole while, would stubbornly refuse.}

{That kind of faith and belief in anyone was awe-inspiring. That kind of faith and belief in Helsknight specifically was unthinkable. Helsknight, the most perfectly black-hearted knight Welsknight had ever met. He almost couldn't believe they were talking about the same person, if he hadn't seen the two helmets together before.}

When Welsknight finally managed to puzzle through the mire of his own thoughts, he said, "You have so much faith in him."

The helmet moved minutely, folding his hands in his lap. One of those dagger-sharp claws dug into his knuckle, drawing blood.

"I do."

"Why?"

It had not been the question Welsknight intended to ask. In fact, he hadn't intended to ask anything. But the question slipped past his teeth unbidden, driven by envy and curiosity, and the surrealness of the situation.

Tanguish blinked at him, that mask of grin determination slipping off into something markedly more nervous. The claw he had sank into his knuckle removed itself, found a spot slightly above the knuckle, and started scratching at an old scab. He did it without flinching -- nearly unconsciously. Welsknight had to wonder how Tanguish didn't spend his days finding inventive ways to get bloody fingerprints out of everything he touched.

"If it's because of some misguided sense of duty, don't bother," Welsknight prompted coldly, fishing for more of that conviction. Tanguish watched him warily, stiffening just slightly. "He was made to be a perfect knight. If he's protected you, it's because he has to. If it's because he's risked his life for you, he has no choice. He can't even swear he'll die for you -- he'll die for anyone his tenets demand he make a sacrifice for. It's how we-- it's how knights are."

Tanguish frowned at him as he spoke, the kind of grimace that implied he'd eaten something bitter. His claw made quick work of the scab, and he glanced down at his hands long enough to find a new scab on another finger to pick. Tanguish sat like that for a long time, studying Welsknight, bloodying his knuckles, lost in meditative self-harm, thinking. Watching him turned Welsknight's stomach. He wanted nothing more than to cross to the other side of the room and grab his wrists, force him to stop hurting himself. Maybe he could find some oven mitts to tie on the helsmet's hands to discourage the habit.

{Gloves. He would benefit from a very thick pair of gloves. The kind Keralis wore when he gardened maybe, with the rubber pads on the fingertips.}

"Do you love the sun?" Tanguish asked.

Welsknight blinked, perplexed. "What?"

"If the sun disappeared today," Tanguish said, "blinked out for no reason. No other consequences. The grass still grew. The seasons still changed. You could still see. But the day and night cycle, the sun on your skin. That bit stopped. Would you be sad?"

"That's a stupid question."

"You're probably right," Tanguish hummed thoughtfully. "Something less important to you then." Tanguish looked around the room. His gaze settled on a picture frame hanging on the wall, a sketch BDubs had made of all the hermits together near the end of the last season. "Have any of your friends ever died for you?"

Welsknight scowled. He didn't like the implication that he had more emotional attachment to the sun than his friends. He answered regardless. "No."

"Do you want them to?"

"No."

"When you first made friends with them, did they imply they would only like you if you were willing to die for them?"

"I would be."

"But would they ask you to?" Tanguish pressed, fixing him with a severe sort of glare.

Welsknight hesitated. "I don't know."

"Would you ask them to."

"No."

"You're certain?"

"I get it."

Tanguish had the audacity to raise an eyebrow at him.

"I get your point."

"You don't."

"You're making a stupid point about how obligation and duty don't matter--"

"Have you ever wanted to die?"

Welsknight stiffened. His stomach did a complicated cartwheel, something that knocked uncomfortably at the bottom of his ribs and asked his heart if it was home. Asked if it was listening.

"That might be hard for you to answer," Tanguish admitted for him, his gaze sliding back to the picture on the wall. "Or maybe, you don't want to answer it in front of me. I'm. Uhm. A helsmet, after all. I might use it against you. Right? But. Humor me." Tanguish started picking at his knuckle again, bloodying a new spot away from any other scabs. "Hels is... a hard place to live. I don't expect you to understand why. Uhm. S-suffice it to say that, a lot of people living under the shadow of greatness, all striking out at each other to prove their existence is worth the space it takes up in the universe... it is very, very hard. Between hels, and, between people like you, who think we are only obstacles to overcome... finding a single bright spot is... so, so important. You know, there are helsmets who can't leave hels? There are people alive out there who, outside of a very lucky, almost unattainable set of circumstances, can never see the sun?"

Tanguish swallowed. His voice was getting hoarse, a symptom of someone, normally quiet, forced to speak too long.

"You make your own light in hels. You try to do it without m-making anyone else's life worse. Or, most people do. Some people don't care, as long as they can capture some light but. But. You have to have something. The universe hates us too much. Without it, living is..."

Tanguish's brow creased, the kind of inward scowl that involved picking apart complex emotions, attempting to lay them to order in the most succinct and useful way.

"When I found Helsknight, I was in a very dark place. I was lonely. My world was becoming dark, and isolated, and cruel. I was cut off from light and heat and warmth. I thought I had lost everything. I thought, if I could die to set things right, I would. And I knew the universe wouldn't let me."

"Death is a temporary inconvenience," Welsknight said quietly.

Tanguish's expression twitched, something like irony.

"When Helsknight found me, I think he was defeated. He had given up on a lot of things that made him... him. He was holding onto the only thing he had left, spitefully, and angrily, and violently. And yes. He was terrifying. And yes. He was hard to like."

Tanguish swallowed.

"When we found each other, I was a bright living thing that wanted to die, and he was a defeated, dying thing that wanted to live. We were not good or kind. Not in any way either of us could recognize. I thought he was dragging me around hels, forcing me to solve my problems. He thought I was a coward wasting precious time. Time I should be grateful to have. We were incompatible. We hurt each other. But we needed each other. The spaces we carved for ourselves into each other's skin, we fit into like puzzle pieces."

Tanguish's claw felt along his knuckle, found a sore spot he'd already worried, and only then did he wince. He looked down at his hands. When he refolded them in his lap again, his hands were balled into fists, an attempt to keep the bitter habit at bay.

"You're right. Helsknight probably doesn't have a choice about who he dies for. He's a knight. You get weird and stupid and noble about things like that. I hate it. I've grown... fond of the space he takes up. I would be incomplete if he left -- all open wounds. And I do not want to know if, or how, they would heal." Tanguish took a breath. Then another. "But when I was at my darkest and most desperate, I hurt him as hard as I could, and still, he helped me. And when he was at his darkest, and he hurt me back, he remade himself to be more harmless. Let him have his duty. Let him be a perfect, insufferable knight. But I think, if his every tenet demanded sacrifice, and I stood in front of him and demanded he live instead... I think he would."

Tanguish offered Welsknight a thin smile. "And what is faith, if it isn't first trust, and trial and error?"

They sat in silence for a moment.

Eventually, Tanguish shrugged. "I don't know. The sun is a lot of things. It burns. It brings life. But I think, most importantly, it has yet to suffer a sunset, and refused to rise again."

Welsknight's chest was a complicated tangle. It occurred to him he should say something. Argue. Maybe point out Helsknight's many flaws. He found he didn't have the heart to. There was something withering about that much faith. He found himself wanting to believe, for the briefest moment, that Tanguish was right. That Welsknight's terrible other half was worth something -- worth living for, for someone at least. He thought, on a fundamental level that had nothing to do with Good or Evil, or his own grudges, that everyone deserved that.

Everyone deserved the sun.

Not knowing what to say or do, Welsknight found himself moving. Tanguish tensed on the couch, convinced, for a moment, he might be moving to violence. Welsknight made sure to keep his hand far away from his sword as he passed.

"Heal yourself," Welsknight said, "and be gone by the time I get back."

He left.

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird & The Leased Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 12 ✿:+ War and Atonement 

Chapter Index | next chapter

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: MDNI, NSFW themes, VIOLENCE, threats of non-con, major character death, minor character death, mention of animal death, misogyny, angst, the boltons, mentions of being drugged, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage, 

A/N: SEASON FINALEEEE (week long break) all I am gonna say is… yeesh. It’s a little long and it's really sad. K BYE!! SEE Y'ALL LAATERR

Word Count: 8.9K

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱ 

Sandor gripped his ax in his hand tightly as he stalked through the woods. Finding the men who killed Ray and the rest of the Sept was not hard. 

The lot of them were in the woods loudly shouting about something Sandor couldn’t care less about. As he marched up behind them, a few of the four men noticed him. They startled easily looking at the giant lumbering man charging towards them with an ax in hand. 

With a furious rage fueled growl he cut and slashed through three of them men with ease. Chopping through their neck, or their heads. 

Finally he approached the last man, a bald older man. He took his ax and with one blow he buried the ax into the man's cock. 

The man cried out in pain, dropping to his knees. Sandor took hold of the man's head, forcing him to look at him, 

“Where are the other ones? The one with the yellow cloak.” He questioned, unaffected by the violence he’d just afflicted on the other men.

“Fuck you!” The bald man screamed, 

“Those are your last words? Fuck you? Come on, you can do better.” Sandor mocked,

The man stammered for a moment unsure of how to reply, “Cunt!” he screamed.

“You’re shit at dying, you know that?” He said as though he had grown tired of his attempts. 

He raised the ax high above his head and threw it down. The man screamed but his screams silenced as the Hounds ax buried deep into his skull.

He pulled his ax out and continued on, starved for the only satisfaction he’d left. Violent revenge.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

In the Eyrie, Baelish was restraining your men from returning to your aid. He closed the Bloody Gates and forced his men loyal to him and his claim to prevent any of yours from leaving. You were left in Winterfell with only nine men.

In Winterfell, you’d spend most of your time training. 

You and Ser Varys’s swords clash against one another again and again. You were able to knock Varys off his own balance and land him on the ground. You pointed your sword at him,

“I didn’t ask for you to go easy on me, Varys.” You said with a huff, out of breath.

He shook his head, “I am not, my lady. It seems as though you’ve improved remarkably, and quite quickly.” He smiled at you as he stood, “You’re a natural.” He nodded, 

You smiled and looked down, you sheathed your sword, proud of yourself. It was the first time you’d felt that feeling… Pride in your accomplishments. Before you could allow yourself to soak in that feeling, a low and gruff voice from behind you spoke. 

“Aye, I’d say so. A real killer. You can see it in her eyes.” You turned with a furrowed brow around to see a tall wild looking man. He wore furs of different origin, and his hair was the brightest red you’d ever seen. He looked at you with wide and excited eyes, “Pretty murderous eyes-“ You let out a dry chuckle, 

Varys Cole however found nothing amusing in it, he stepped forward and in front of you holding onto the hilt of his sword. “If you wish to speak to the Lady Arryn, you’ll learn to do it in a more respectful manner.” He spoke sternly.

“Who are you?” You asked, 

His eyes went from Varys to you quickly, he smiled at you, “Tormund.” He flashed his eyebrows at you.

“From beyond the wall?” You’d never met a Wildling but you’d imagine this is what they’d look like.

“Aye, you don’t like Wildlings?” His gaze narrowed at you slightly, 

You shook your head, “I am of no opinion.” 

“No opinion?” He asked with a raised eyebrow,

“I’ve never met one before.” You held in a laugh at this man's obvious attraction towards you.

“Aye well, now ye’ have.” He took one step closer, He looked over towards Varys pointing at him “I don’t think he likes wildlings much.” 

Varys took another step closer to him, you raised your hand to signal for him to step down, “It’s alright. I apologize for Ser Cole, he is quite protective of me.” You said softly,

“I’d be too if you were my woman-“ He said with his head lowered but his eyes still on you.

“She is the Lady of the Vale. I am her sword-“ Ser Varys Cole interjected. 

“You’re a sword?” he asked confused, never hearing the expression.

“Her protector.” Varys said sternly.

“The way she holds that sword I don’t think the pretty crow needs one. But a woman should have a man.” His voice was lustful, not seductive but lustful.

“You have a gift for subtlety.” You scoffed, holding in laughter.

“Aye, and gifted at many other things-” He took another step closer to you but Varys blocked him. 

The two men stared at one another attempting to intimidate the other. Before you could interject, Jon did. 

“Enough, come on, we've got things to do.” Jon said, pulling Tormund away. 

As the both of them walked away and into the Lord Commander's quarters, Varys looked at you with annoyance and you held in a laugh.

“He won’t relent if you encourage it.” He said walking towards you, 

“I found it amusing.” You shrugged. He’d no power, and you knew you’d never be with another man so long as you were without Sandor. Besides, waiting for your armies was getting dull.

“You shouldn’t allow people to speak to you like that.” He lectures, sounding like your father.

“Are you my advisor now?” You asked with a furrowed brow.

“I have been, it would seem.” He said, you couldn’t really argue because he was right.

“Perhaps.” You looked down, then back to him, “You are right. But I don’t wish to earn respect through men in armor flashing steel. That is not respect, it’s fear.” 

“Some may say they are one in the same.” 

“Some. Not I. I know the difference.” You said sternly, “Respect forged on the soil of fear will grow anger and contempt. Respect forged on the soil of kindness and compassion grows loyalty and trust.” You removed your belt that held your sword and handed it to Varys, “Soon the rest of the Knights left in the west will remember that.” 

Varys softly smiled and nodded at you, surprised but pleased with your wisdom. You smiled back.

Suddenly you could hear the guards shouting, “Open the gates!” the men shouted, 

You watched as the gates to Castle Black opened. Three people on horseback made their way in. Two of them were a mystery to you but one you recognized immediately. A tall and beautiful girl with red hair, your cousin.

As she dismounted you stepped closer towards her, unable to believe your eyes that it was her. You thought for so long that you’d never see her again.

“Sansa?” You asked softly, she looked at you, you could see a dark and tired pain in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around you, and you wrapped your arms around her in return. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked you, still wrapped around you. 

“I could ask you the same.” You said. 

You felt her arms loosen around you. As you pulled away to look at her you noticed she was looking behind you. As you turned to see what she saw, you saw Jon standing there. He was in as much disbelief as you were, maybe even more. You let go of her, and she ran into Jon’s arms. 

As they embraced, the man who rode in with Sansa walked up to you. 

“Lady Arryn?” He asked in a hush voice, 

You turned to better face him, “Do I know you, Ser?” you asked.

He shook his head, looking at you with curiosity and the same disbelief Jon looked at Sansa with. “Not very well. I was in the service of Lord Tyrion Lannister during your time in KingsLanding.” You then recognized him, you looked down and swallowed hard. “He thought you were dead, it took him some time to admit it but he did. Thought Stannis’s soldiers during the blackwater killed you, then he thought the hound took you. But when I saw him he didn’t have you, so I knew that couldn’t have been right.” He rambled mindlessly as he stared at you still examining you in disbelief.

Your eyes widened when you heard he’d seen Sandor, “You saw him?” You asked quickly.

“Before we saved Lady Sansa from the Bolton’s-” 

“The Boltons?” You interrupted him.

Petyr had threatened you with the prospect of giving Sansa away in your place. But she was in King's Landing, married to Lord Tyrion. You thought surely she was safe. You felt your stomach drop as you realized he’d done it, and it was your fault.

“Lady Brienne fought him while we were looking for Lady Arya.” He continued without answering your question.

“Fought him?” Your eyes went even wider, you felt your pulse quicken.

“And won, he fell down the mountain in the Vale.” You felt as if a wave of cold ocean water had crashed against your body. You felt your heart sink and your stomach turn.  “We were there looking for Arya, thought she might have been hiding within it.” You didn’t even pay attention to the last bit he said, your ears rang and “How did you get out?” He asked, you did not look at him. Couldn’t bring yourself to. You looked down, and you muttered, 

“Another time.” As you walked with hast back to your chambers, 

Your eyes began to well with tears and your face was hot, your breathing picked up and you couldn’t help but feel yourself begin to crumble.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・  

You slammed the door to your chamber closed, you collapsed onto your bed. 

You felt every part of your body ache, your heart felt hallowed out. Your breathing labored from your sobs. You couldn’t bear the pain, it was new. When the others you loved died, your body went numb but now, now you felt entirely too much. You felt far far far too much. You’d never felt your heart break, felt your heart truly cry, until now.

You sobbed into the furs of your bed, silencing your cries as best you could. But soon you heard your door open and close quickly as you looked up. It was Varys.

“(Y/N)?” He asked softly, he approached your side by your bed. “Are you alright?” He kneeled by your side, placing a hand on the side of your head as you laid there in agony.

“He warned me. He warned me and I did not listen to him.” You whimpered as you sobbed gently. 

Varys rubbed his thumb against your temple, “It was your life or hers, you couldn’t be made such a choice-” 

“But I could have. I didn’t give it because I thought she’d be safe… I thought he’d come back for me.” You angrily wiped your tears.

“He did-” 

“And he died for it. This whole time I waited and wished” You snapped angrily before your sorrow overtook you again, you threw your head back against the bed as you said,  “Gods, know I have been selfish and I have been spiteful. I wished to see the downfall of Littlefinger enough to overlook it willingly.” You shook your head, “It should have been me there. She is good, and I am nothing but nausea, nothing but a longing, nothing but disgrace, nothing but a piece to be moved about the board, nothing but a daughter who was meant to be a son.” Your numbness finally set in, you laid there, your tears falling from your eyes and your lips swollen, nose red but at least you didn’t need to feel it anymore. 

Varys took in your words, “Child. You are discerning, wise, and well reasoned. Those are traits of your father. You are also strong-willed, audacious, and above all loyal. Those are traits of your mother.” He shook his head, “When you were born, your mother and father could not have held greater contentedness. Since that day I have watched you create (Y/N) Arryn in wonder.” He smiled at you softly. 

“What of your family, Varys?” You felt silly for never, during this whole time, asking him such a simple question.

“I had a daughter once, for just a moment. When I was much younger.” He smiled at the memory, “My wife, Helena. A beauty she was, and as sharp as a dagger. She died, attempting to give life to our daughter. She was far too small for life to not slip from her. They both perished in her efforts.” His eyes welled up in tears but his smile persisted, “She would have been your age now.” He held your face in his hand “Since that day, I have only looked after one child my whole life.” He swallowed back emotion, he looked at you understandingly, “You’re in a dark period in your life,” 

“It seems as though my whole life has been a dark period, aside from a few days of either boredom or even fewer of happiness.” You spoke softly as you sniffed your runny nose. 

He shook his head, “You’ve lived a life within the rules of others. Soon you will live by your own. I am as old as your mother would be, I know these things well enough. You will be remembered, beloved, and respected. Soon the light and wisdom will come to you. You’ll be happy, child.” He smiled at you, he knew what he was saying and meant every word of it. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As Sandor stalked the woods, tracking down the rest of the men who’d slaughtered the sept. He found them, only they were standing on logs of wood with their heads in nooses. 

The men surrounding them were the members of the Brotherhood. The very men who’d abducted Sandor and who’d separated he and you.

Thoros looked over at Sandor marching over, bloody ax in hand, “Clegane, the fuck you doing here?” He asked, 

“Chasing them. You?” Sandor asked confused,

“Hanging them.”

“Any particular reason?” He questioned

“They’re our men. Or they were. They attacked a nearby Sept and murdered the villagers. Why do you want them?”

“Same reason. I was helping build it. They killed a friend of mine.” He said as he walked closer to them three men in nooses, with a cold look in his eyes.

“You’ve got friends?” Thoros asked mockingly, 

Sandor shook his head, “Not anymore. They’re mine.” He said, still walking closer.

Beric stopped him, “It’s the Brotherhood’s good name they’ve dragged through the dirt.”

“Fuck your name, they’re mine.” Sandor tried to step forward again but Beric’s hand stopped him, Sandor looked at him with dark eyes “I killed you once before, Dondarrion. Happy to do it again.” He narrowed his eyes, “Drop that arrow you bloody girl. Tougher girls than you have tried to kill me.” He threatened without looking away from Beric. Once the archer didn’t relent he turned to him and began to walk towards him, ax ready in hand. 

Beric interjected, “You can have one of them.”

Sandor turned around, “Two.” He haggled. 

Beric considered it, then finally nodded in approval. 

Sandor walked towards the first man, drew back his ax behind his head and as he was about to swing, Thoros grabbed it, stopping the swing. 

“No, no, no. We’re not butchers. We hang them.” Thoros said,

Sandor pulled his ax away from his grasp, “Hanging? All over in an instant. Where's the punishment in that?” He sighed, “I’ll only gut one of them.” trying to haggle again. 

“No,” Beric said firmly, 

“Chop off one hand?” Sandor asked

“We gave you two out of three out of respect for your loss. That’s generous.” Beric reaffirmed,

Sandor huffed, “Bunch of nancies.” He dropped his ax, “There was a time I would have killed all seven of you just to gut these three.” 

“Getting old, Clegane.” Thoros teased

“He’s not.” Sandor said before kicking out the wood logs from underneath the two men he was granted to kill. 

As they thrashed around, he stole the boots from one of the men. As he tried on the stolen boots he turned to the Brotherhood who were staring at him, “Got anything to eat?”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you sat at a dining table with Jon, Edd, Tormund, Brienne, Podrick, and sat beside you was Sansa and to your otherside, Varys. 

You all sat together eating some sort of meat. It was awful but it was no worse than the food you and Sandor were forced to endure while you were on your own. 

It was awkwardly silent. The unspoken trauma that you and Sansa had experienced separately that lingered in the air was certainly to blame. Nor did your disdain for Brienne. You had to keep it hidden though you couldn’t help but scowl at her from time to time. You knew she most likely had no choice but to kill him. Your man did not relent, it wasn’t his nature to stop. When he fought he fought to kill. Still, it was hard not to feel resentment. But the hungry looks Tormund flashed your way certainly did not help ease tensions either.

A member of the Night's watch walked into the room, “A letter for you, Lord Commander.” breaking the tension for a moment.

“I’m not Lord Commander anymore.” Jon said, bringing back that same tension. However he conceded and took the scroll from the man.  He opened it breaking the Bolton’s wax seal, he did so nodding at him allowing him to go. 

You felt ill once you noticed the wax seal. 

Jon read a little of it, then began to read it aloud. “To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow. You allowed thousands of wildlings past the wall. You have betrayed your own kind, you have betrayed the north. Winterfell is mine, bastard. Come and see. Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon, his direwolves skin is on my floor, come and see. I want my bride back or the traitor to the east as was betrothed to me. Send one to me, Bastard, and I will not trouble you or your wildling lovers. Keep them from me and I will ride North and slaughter every Wildling, man, and babe living under your protection.” You knew very little of the Boltons, but now you understood just how cruel they were, how much pleasure they took in it. And you knew just how much of a dangerous and sadistic environment Sansa was forced into, it made you feel a red hot rage. “You will watch as I skin them living. You–” Jon stopped, looking at both you and Sansa.

“Go on.” Sansa said, full of conviction. She had grown so much since you’d last seen her. Forced to anyway. 

“It’s just more of the same.” Jon said, looking away.

Sansa grabbed ahold of the letter when he wasn’t looking. She continued on reading, “You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister and cousin. You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother. Then I will spoon your eyes from their sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see. Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” 

“Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” Jon said cautiously,

“His father’s dead. Ramsay killed him.” She looked down, worried. “And now he has Rickon.” 

“We don’t know that.” Jon shook his head in denial.

“Yes we do.” Sansa said sternly, 

“How many men does he have in his army?” Tormund asked Sansa,

Sansa thought about it for a moment, “I heard him say 5000 once when he was talking about Stannis’s attack.”

“How many do you have?” Jon asked Tormund, 

“That can march and fight? 2000.” Tormund estimated.

“And you?” Jon turned his attention towards you.

You looked over to Varys next to you, wanting him to break the news rather than you. “Ser Cole?”

“Half the knights are divided evenly. 3000 so far on our causes side.” Varys said, confidently.

“That's an even fight, but where are they?” Jon questioned,

“Lord Baelish has denied them leave from the Eyrie. The other 3000 keep them at bay within the confines behind the Bloody Gate. Only 50 have escaped, and should, if all goes well, be here within a week's time.” Varys finished. Jon looked at him, then you could tell he was incredibly disappointed and for good. 

“I’ve only nine men with me, another 50 coming, hopefully.” You looked at Jon with lowered eyes, knowing it was hardly anything at all. 

Sansa remained unmoved, “You are the last son of the last trueborn Lord of Winterfell. Northern families are loyal they’ll fight if you ask.” Sansa gripped onto Jons hand as if she was begging him to see reason. “A monster has taken our home, and our little brother. We have to go back to winterfell.” 

Jon nodded, knowing there was no other option than war.

As you sat there you contemplated your options, contemplated what move you could make next.

You turned to Varys, “Ser Cole send a raven, I will attempt contact with Lord Baelish. I will set our… differences aside… momentarily.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Sandor ripped into a piece of pork while he sat around a fire with the rest of the Brotherhood.

Beric stared at him, as it ate it, “You ought to join us. We could use you.”

Sandor wasn’t too pleased with the prospect of joining a new group. He was only with the Sept to heal, and repay his debt to Ray. He wanted to get on with it and find you already. “Last time I went with you lot, it didn’t work out for me.” He faked a smile for a moment and dropped it swiftly as he dug further into their food. 

“Clegane, we're here for a reason.” Thoros said, trying to convince him, he clearly knew something he didn’t. “The Lord of Light is keeping Beric alive for a reason. We are part of something larger than ourselves.” 

“Lots of horrible shit in this world gets done for something larger than ourselves.” Sandor shook his head, not allowing himself to believe it. He was skeptical, and even if it were real what he said, if it meant he had to leave his plans to find you behind… he wouldn’t do it.

“Cold winds are rising in the North.” 

“And you’re going go to stop them?” Sandor asked mockingly. 

“We need good men to help us.” 

“Last time you saw me you wanted to execute me. Got me separated from my woman, she could be dead now. Why would I help you?” His eyes narrowed. 

“You can find another woman along the way.” Beric said, trying to comfort him in a way.

If he had said that to Sandor even a fortnight ago he would have beaten him for even suggesting it. But he flashed furious eyes at him, then looked down, “Don’t want another.” he said, sulking in his own misery.

Beric nodded, “True enough. But the Lord of Light gave you the power to defeat me. Why?” 

“I beat you, because I’m better than you, Beric. I was better than you before you started yammering about the Lord. And I’m better than you now.” Sandor said with confidence. And he was right, there were very few who could best him.

Beric chuckled, “Aye, you’re probably right. You’re a fighter, born a fighter. You walked away from that fight. How did that go? Good and bad young and old. The thing we’re fighting will destroy them all alike. And if that lady love of yours is still out there, that just will happen to her too. You can help a lot more than you’ve harmed, Clegane.” Beric finished, finally convincing him. 

Whatever threat was coming, if it meant you would be in danger, he would do everything he could to stop it. Even if it meant he would be apart from you longer, as long as you were alive, that would be enough.

He nodded, agreeing to whatever journey they had planned for them. 

As he did, a large and beautiful Falcon came and landed in a tree nearby, it loudly cawed at him. It was the very same Falcon that stayed with him while he was dying in the mountains of the Vale, the one that had gone missing since. 

“Fucking hells…” Sandor grumplied looking at the bird.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You, and Varys rode up to meet with Lord Baelish just outside of Mole Town. 

You sat on your horse about twenty feet in front of Baelish on his own horse. He had with him two other Knights of the Vale. 

“My beloved Niece.” Baelsih said, smirking, “I hear you have come to a change in heart.” 

You showed no emotion, stoic in your response, “No, a momentary delay. I have to request the aid of your army.” 

“It is certainly unusual. We are meant to be at war are we not?”

“We are, though I need numbers in another fight.” 

“Another?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

You didn’t indulge him in an argument, “I know what you did to Sansa.” You said, darkness growing in your eyes.

He attempted to rationalize his actions quickly, “She wished to return to Winterfell, and I aided her in her effort.”

“She escaped, Baelish.” You interjected quickly, “You should have seen her.” You held back emotion, swallowing it down, “They have threatened war, and we don’t have the numbers. They are going to kill her, kill her brothers, and they will take me in her place. You might believe that to be a good thing, for me to be gone from you. But with his power he will want the Eyrie just as badly, and we both know his cruelty.” 

He considered your words carefully, “How do I know you tell the truth? How do I know I am not sending men into a trap where you plan to slaughter them?”

“Because I am the Lady of the Vale. I would not lie to these men.” You looked at the traitors who accompanied Baelish. You could see shame in their eyes as they avoided your gaze. You turned your gaze back to Baelish, much harsher and cold, “Do one good thing. You’ll want Lady Sansa on your side, you’ll want her favor, you’ll want the north’s favor, and you’ll want my mercy.” 

“Lady Sansa knows I would never wish ill will onto her. She knows I did not kn-” 

“Ask her yourself.” You interrupted before riding off and away from him.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・ ꒱꒱

Once you returned to Winterfell, you received a raven from Baelish. The message read that Baelish would meet with Sansa and offer his aid to her, and her alone. You were determined to convince him. Determined to not let the world take another loved one away from you. You couldn’t take another loss. It would crush any bit of warmth within you that was left, leave you cruel and hateful.

When you entered Sansa’s chambers, you noticed her sewing something. 

“What are you working on?” You asked as you walked closer towards her.

“A cape for Jon. The same as our Father wore.” She said as she sewed. 

You sat beside her, “He was a good man.” you said, smiling softly at her. 

“He was.” She said with a sorrowful smile. As she raised her hand up, pulling a needle through the leather and fur of the cape. Her sleeve fell slightly, allowing you to see bruising. 

You held her wrist in your hands gently, stopping her from sewing. You swallowed hard, observing the bruise, feeling both guilt and rage serge through your blood. “I must know what you endured.” You said, sweetly and softly. Like a mother.

“I don’t want you to look at me differently.” She shook her head, and removed her hand. “Besides, I still don’t know what happened to you.” She said looking down shamefully.

You positioned yourself to face her better, “Littlefinger might have taken a child from me. I don’t even know if I have the right to cry over it, because I don't even know if I was, or was not. He took the only man I loved away from me, he took your sister from me. He killed my aunt. He might have killed my father.” You shook your head. “I don't even know that for certain either. The uncertain is worse than the certain, it was almost part of the torment. Kept me in a castle, fed me isolation until I never left my chambers, only thought of the uncertainties. Until he drugged me and sold me to the Boltons. But Varys Cole saved me and brought me here.” Her eyes fell on you, soft and warm. Sympathetic, not pitiful. You smiled through a growing emotion, “See, you’ve not looked at me differently at all.” 

Sansa, put down her needle. She looked at you, and with courage she told you all of what she’d endured. Since the moment you had left King’s Landing she had experienced every tragedy you had narrowly escaped. The things the Bolton’s had done was the worst of it. Your blood boiled with hatred. But soon the rage subsided with the overwhelming feeling of guilt, and sorrow.

“I seem to have left you my fate, inadvertently, twice now I am sorry.” You tried to hold back tears, though your voice wavered “Very, very sorry.” You held her hand, “I’d not look at you differently. You are my blood. I’m going to help you kill those men.” You took a breath, “Though there is one thing that you can do.” You said handing her the message Littlefinger had sent for you.

She took the letter and read it, “Littlefinger…” She whispered, “How far is Mole Town?” She asked you.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The dreaded moment came, a war consultation with Ramsay Bolton the morning before the battle. 

Smalljon Umber, and Harald Karstark were there to accompany Ramsay. You and Varys were there alongside Jon, Sansa, Tormund, Davos, and Lyanna Mormont. All of you on horseback on an open field. 

Ramsay smiled and spoke confidently, “My beloved wife. Thank you for returning Lady Bolton home safely. Now dismount and kneel before me. Surrender your army and proclaim me the true Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I will Pardon you for deserting the Night's Watch. I will pardon these treasonous Lords for betraying my house. And I shall give Lady Arryn the men to fight for the Vale.” You remained stone faced, and stone hearted. As did your companions. Ramsay then continued, “Come Bastard. You don’t have the men, you don’t have the horses, and you don’t have Winterfell. And she doesn’t even have the Eyrie.” He smiled at you, you only scowled.  “Why lead those poor souls into slaughter? There’s no need for a battle. Get off your horse, and kneel. I am a man of mercy.” He said, it made you feel ill.

You said nothing, only holding back your desire to stab him in the eye.

“You’re right. There's no need for a battle. Thousands of men don’t need to die. Only one of us. Let's do this the old way. You against me.” Jon said, you held back a smirk, knowing Bolton would never agree.

Ramsay “I keep hearing stories about you. The way the North tells it you’re the greatest swordsman who ever walked. Maybe you are that good. Maybe not. I don’t know if I can beat you. But I know my army will beat yours.” His eyes were wild and wide. 

“Aye, you’ve the numbers. Would your men want to fight for you, when they hear you wouldn’t want to fight for them?” Jon said, it made you smirk.

Ramsay smiled, angrily “He’s good, very good. But are you going to let your little brother die because you are too proud to surrender?” 

“How do we know you have him?” Sansa said, without fear. 

Ramsay smirked, then nodded to one of his men. The man threw towards Sansa the decapitated head of Rickon’s direwolves head. Sansa looked upon it with cold and emotionless eyes. 

Ramsey continued, “Now if you want to save–” 

“You’re going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton.” Sansa interrupted coldy, “Sleep well.” She said riding away. You watched as she left, you understood the feeling she had all too well. 

Ramsay smiled, “She’s a fine woman, your sister. Just as fine as your cousin.” You looked back at Ramsay, your gaze was hateful and cold, “I look forward to having one of them back in my bed. In the morning then. Bastard.” Ramsay said as he rode away.

You watched them ride off, “If it comes to it… I’ll take her place.” you said to Jon beside you.

Jon shook his head, “No, you won’t. We need every man we can get. Send some ravens.” He said pulling on the reins of his horse, riding away. 

You sat there for a moment, thinking of how furious Sandor would be. Furious that someone would have even threatened such actions towards you. Furious that you would even suggest taking such punishment if it meant someone else didn’t. Furious that you’d even gotten in this war. He would have killed Ramsay then and there. But Sandor wasn’t here anymore, only you. So you’d have to kill Ramsay yourself. 

You then followed after Jon. You’d a war to plan for.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Sandor and the rest of the Brotherhood rode through the Riverlands. It was snowing and cold. And Sandor was irritable for good reason. They were going to the Wall, and in Sandor’s mind that was the last place you would be. Of course he would be wrong in that, but you never thought you’d be there either.

“Bad night to be outdoors,” Thoros said, observing the obvious weather.

“You got real powerful to figure that out. Did the Lord of Light whisper that in your ear?” Sandor said mockingly, “‘It’s snowing, Thoros. It’s windy. It's gonna be a cold night.’” He said in a deeper voice mimicking the Lord Thoros served.

Thoros scoffed, “You’re a grouchy old bear, aren’t you, Clegane?” He held out a bottle towards Sandor as a peace offering “You want some rum?”

“Don’t like that shit, It’s too sweet.” Sandor said with a disgusted expression.

“Why are you always in such a foul mood?” Thoros teased,

“Experience.” Sandor replied

Above them a Falcon flew, Sandor saw it and huffed to himself. He thought he’d seen the last of it but the bird continued to stalk him. 

“There goes that bird again. Maybe cook it for supper…” Thoros said thinking out loud.

“No.” Sandor snapped quickly before regaining composure, “No one's eating that bird.” He grumbled.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You laid in your bed. You watched as the sun began to rise over the wall. In solitude you could be weak, devastated, and useless. You could let yourself sink and drown peacefully in your grief and sorrow. Allowing it to wrap you in its cold embrace. Until you heard the horn of war blow. Now you had to hold your head high, you had to be strong, you needed to be relentless. 

You pushed yourself out of bed and sat beside the fire in your room. 

Varys walked into your chambers, “The war horn has been blown, My Lady.” He said as he closed the door and approached you.

“I know it.” You said staring into the fire.

“I have something for you.” He said softly, you looked over towards him, “I had it made for you here.” You took the metal from his hands. It was black armor, fearsome looking. “Now I do not wish for you to fight. However, this is the first fight you shall lead into Battle.” 

“I lead only nine men.” 

“59, my lady. The men arrived late last night.” You felt a wave of relief but also a great weight of responsibility and duty, “Even if it were nine men, It is your first fight. You should lead in armor. Your father always wore armor, not in silver and blue but black.” You looked at the armor in your hand, it was a deep and dark black color, like a night sky. “He wore black to show the enemy that his presence, his army's presence, meant death.” You ran your hand over the falcon that was imprinted on the breast plate, “And of course there's a falcon, because there has to be a falcon.” He smiled, 

You smiled softly in return, “Thank you.” 

He placed a hand on your shoulder, “Are you frightened?” He asked ready to offer reassurance in your ability.

“No.” You said with strong conviction. You had no room to be frightened. You knew you would succeed because failure was not an option. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

The Battle Began. Your men alongside the Stark forces were stationed at a treeline, to be sure you couldn’t be taken from behind. It was made known prior to the battle that the Stark army would not charge first. You had the least men, so you needed patience on your side. 

Across the field is the much larger Bolton army, who have placed archery distance markers with burning, flayed corpses attached to them. You had never seen such a grotesque scene. Though it only made your rage grow bigger. 

Ramsay rode out on his horse to the front of his own army, bringing a tied up Rickon Stark. You saw Ramsay dismount and walk towards Rickon with a dagger, you worried for a moment that Ramsay would slit Rickon's throat, but instead he cut bonds. Ramsay pointed at Jon. Rickon starts running in a straight line toward Jon. 

Jon, confused, watched as Ramsay pulled out a bow and arrow as Ramsay pointed it at Rickon. 

Jon, terrified for his brother, rode out alone onto the battlefield charging towards his brother. All the while Ramsay shoots and misses again. Your heart raced, watching it. Just when Rickon is about to reach Jon, however, Ramsay's final shot hits Rickon in the heart, killing him almost instantly.

“Gods.” You whispered to yourself, 

“Prepare to charge!” Davos announced, 

You looked over to your men and Ser Varys Cole, you nodded to them to prepare.

Jon you could see across the field. Your heart ached for him, you’d seen your own brother die with only the Gods to blame. And now Jon had one man to blame. So it did not surprise you when Jon charged full tilt at the Bolton army alone, who immediately lost their arrows on him. Alarmed, Davos ordered the Stark forces to charge after their commander. 

You commanded the same of your men, Varys gave you one last nod before riding into battle. 

Jon was thrown from his horse when it was shot out from under him, Jon prepares for his last stand by drawing his sword and facing the Bolton army alone. However he was saved by the Stark army, and the battle became a chaotic mess of blood, arrows, horses, and swords. Men were killed so quickly that they began to form small hills of the dead.

“It’s a slaughter. Where is Lady Sansa?” You asked Davos, he shook his head at you not knowing. You huffed and looked back to the battle in front of you. 

Ramsay ordered his own archers to shoot at the battle. Killing both the Stark forces and his own army. Instead of doing the same, Davos led his archers to join Jon Snow and the others into battle. 

You being left alone at the treeline where your armies first deployed you fled to a high hill to get a better view of the battle. 

Once you did you could see that the arrows Ramsay ordered out had killed both Stark and Bolton men, and soon the small hills of bodies had become a wall of the dead. It was then clear what they were planning. It was a sadistic way to prevent his enemy from retreating. The remaining Bolton army manage to surround the remaining Stark army and close them in with a shield phalanx. 

You watched horrified as the phalanx acted as a noose, tightening around the Stark forces, who by now are dying in droves. Any of them that attempt to retreat toward the wall of dead men, they trample the wounded and squeeze so tightly in the confined space that they are unable to properly move. Smalljon leads a small force over the wall of the dead to ensure that none are able to escape.

Finally you heard the sounds of Horse hooves behind you. You saw a sea of silver Knights being led by both Sansa and Petyr. As they approached you, Petyr looked at you with contempt and explained, “Knights of the Vale shall ride for Lady Sansa.” Making it clear they were not there for you.

You couldn’t argue, there was no time for that. You pulled the reins of your horse Lika. “They will follow me into battle then.” You said with strong conviction, Petyr nodded to them. 

The knights looked at you, “There is no time for motivation, no time for a speech. Your men are down there already dying. These men will kill you. So we will kill them first. Now circle them, take them from behind! Blow the horns, and Charge!” You shouted as you rode into battle. 

In the battle, Jon was suffocating, just when all hope seemed lost, he heard a war horn sound off in the distance. Around the bend appears a large mounted army of the Knights of the Vale, led by you. The newly arrived Arryn reinforcements quickly circle the phalanx. The Vale knights are able to attack on the Boltons' undefended side, wiping away Ramsay's phalanx and freeing the Stark soldiers. As you led them around, an arrow shot into Lika’s heart, she dropped to the ground and tossed you off and onto the ground. 

Disorientation from the fall, you looked up and saw a man in silver armor, laying against the wall of the dead men. As your eyes steadied you saw he was breathing labored, and coughing blood. As they steadied more you saw an arrow in his throat, and as they steadied even more you noticed the man was Varys Cole. You grunted as you crawled towards him on your elbows. 

“No,” You whimpered, you pulled yourself onto him, you held his neck, bleeding profusely, “NO!” You cried, 

Varys coughed up more blood, “(Y/N), you must leave here” he wheezed, 

“No, no, no,” You sobbed gently like a little girl as you held onto his wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

He took your wrist in hand “Leave me-” 

You interrupted him, continuing to sob, “Don’t leave me-”

“I am dying.” His eyes were low, and he spoke tiredly. 

“You cannot!” You shook your head and shouted as you cried

“All men can.” He removed his belt and sword along with it, handing it to you. “My sword is yours, child.” 

You continued to sob, “Varys-”  

He whipped your tears with his bloody hand, “It’s been yours long enough.” You held the hand he caressed your cheek with until it went limp and fell to his side.  

“Varys-V-V” You stammered as you sobbed, “Varys!” Clinging to his armor, as his eyes faded. Your numbness didn’t come as it often did. But sadness did not either. A rage fueled blood lust unlike anything you'd ever felt overtook your body.

Enraged and maddened with grief you took Varys’s sword in hand, you stood and charged into battle, eyes puffy and red swelled from the tears that fell from them, your nose and cheeks red and slashed with heat from emotion, you breathed deeply but your sobs made you choke on your own breathing. 

You managed to strike two men down with your sword. Grunting and screaming out in grief as you fought. All in which you endured to this moment flashed before your eyes. It only fueled your rage. 

After you striked down your third man an arrow flew and struck you in your thigh. You overpowered your body’s instrict to hunch over in pain. As your hands reached the arrow in your leg, a man came up behind you and grabbed you.

He placed his hand over your mouth pressing you against his body. His other hand held a dagger, he swung his arm around to stab you in the belly but you grabbed ahold of his forearm before he could make contact. 

You bit his hand as hard as you could, nearly taking off his finger completely. The man dropped the dagger and shouted out in pain.

Within an instant you broke the end of the arrow in your thigh off and pulled it through your leg. You then turned around and used the arrow to stab through the man's eye. Killing him.

You looked over to see Tormund staring at you, in awe, “Fuck you doing here?” Tormund asked,

“Fighting.” You responded, eyes still puffy and red. Mouth still stained with the blood of the man you’d just killed. You took back your sword and looked over to see Ramsay, now without a fighting force, decides to retreat to Winterfell to hold out in a siege. Your eyes found Jon nearby, “Jon, He’s fleeing!” You shouted. You and Jon ran following behind Ramsay alongside Tormund and the giant Wun Wun. You ran despite the horrid pain in your leg. 

Before you could reach the main gate. Ramsay closed them. However it didn’t last very long when Wun Wun was able to break down the main gate, allowing the Starks and Arryns to pour through. 

Your army along with the remaining Starks and Freefolks kill all remaining Bolton men in the castle. Wun Wun collapses to his knees after being hit by arrows, bolts, and javelins. Before Jon can comfort his friend, however, Ramsay kills the giant with an arrow through the eye. 

Ramsay, refusing to surrender, “You suggested one on one combat, I’ve reconsidered, I think that's a wonderful Idea.” He taunted Jon,

Ramsay then began shooting arrows at Jon unarmed. You threw a shield from a fallen Mormont soldier. Jon grabs it while boldly advancing, blocking all of Ramsay's shots. When he reached Ramsay, he smacks the bow out of his hands and knocks him to the ground. With Ramsay down, Jon pins him and proceeds to beat him savagely. 

You smiled as you watched it, tears falling from your eyes. You feared you may laugh.

Though it seems as if he will kill Ramsay, Jon stops. Jon then ordered for Ramsay to be locked in the kennels. The Bolton banners drop to the ground in a cluttered heap while the Starks banner is raised above Winterfell for the first time in three years.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

You entered the Kennels. Looking upon the bloodied and beaten Ramsay, tied in a chair. 

He looked at you, “Are you waiting for me to speak first? Man does not normally introduce himself to his former betrothed.” He said mockingly

“Ramsay.” You stated quietly and coldly.

“You do remember, how lovely.” He laughed to himself, “You look wonderful. The crimson of violence suits you well. I knew it would.” He said, attempting to goad you.

“I understand who you are now. A broken little boy who cannot bear the pain of the world, so he becomes it. But cruelty is easy and you are not special for choosing it.” You took out your sword, you placed the tip of the blade against his chest, “I’ve wanted to bury my blade in you for a long time.” You said, fighting the urge to push it in,  “Only, it’s not my blade to hold.” You said, looking behind you, seeing Sansa standing here. She nodded to you and you nodded in return as you opened the kennel doors and stood with her on the outside of the kennel’s cage.

“Oh, Sansa.” Ramsay smiled, “Our time together is about to come to an end. That’s alright, you can’t kill me. I’m part of you now.” He said trying to torment her one last time.

Sansa however remained unfazed by his attempt, “Your words will disappear, your house will disappear, your name will disappear, all memories of you will disappear.” She said coldly as Ramsay’s starved dogs fled their cages and circled him.

“My Hounds will never harm me.” Ramsay said, with a growing fear in his voice.

“You haven’t fed them in seven days. You said it yourself.” Sansa said emotionlessly as she watched them circle.

“They’re loyal beasts.” Ramsay said, uncertainty present in his voice.

“They were. Now they’re starving.” 

“Down!” He shouted at the dog, instead of listening the dog began hungrily sniffing and licking his bloody face. “Down! Down! Down!” He shouted and shouted until his shouts became screams. Overcome by hunger, the hound proceeds to savagely maul his face and the others follow suit. As Ramsay is devoured alive by his own dogs, Sansa turns to you and you both lock arms as you and she walk away. Though you limped mostly. You both savor the sounds of his screams. You turn to look at one another, you both softly smile at one another.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

In Winterfell, A day had passed since the battle. You laid in your bed recovering from your physical injuries. Though you spent most of your time laying there sulking in your own misery.

That night Sansa entered your chambers with a cup of tea, “How’re you feeling?” She asked, handing you the cup as you sat up.

“Like I’ve had an arrow through my leg.” You said stoically as you took the cup.

She smiled, though her smile faded, “I am… sorry for your loss.” she said earnestly. 

“And I yours.” You said, just as earnest as she was. 

“I’ve come with good news.” She said trying to brighten your spirits, “Once they were left unattended at the gate, your armies fled the Vale, they are coming here, to Winterfell. And I hear some of Baelish’s Knights have left his side to join your ranks. You have shown great bravery, and great loyalty to your men. No one shall forget it.” She smiled at you.

“It wouldn’t have happened without you. They rode for you.” You smiled back, 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

During your recovery Jon continued his mission in defeating the White Walkers. He had traveled to Dragonstone to persuade The Dragon Queen to allow him to mine for Dragonglass. While there, Jon received a letter regarding the army of the dead approaching Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Tyrion who was acting as Daenerys hand, proposed a plan to capture a wight to prove to Cersei, the existence of the White Walkers. Jon agrees and departs with Davos, Jorah, and Gendry.

Once at the Wall, they met with Tormund with whom they shared their plan.

“Isn’t it your job to talk him out of stupid fucking ideas like this?” Tormund asked Davos, unconvinced that their plan was wise.

“I've been failing at that job as of late.” Davos teased, making Jon smirk.

“How many queens are there now?” Tormund asked Jon,

“Two.” He responded, 

“And you need to convince the one with dragons or the one who fucks her brother?” Tormund asked crudely but accurately. 

“Both.” Jon held back a laugh,

“How many men did you bring?” Tormund asked again, attempting to understand how bad of an idea this was.

“Not enough.” Jon said, this had become a recurring issue. 

“Not the armored woman?” Tormund asked like a whiny puppy, hoping you’d be joining.

Jon smiled and shook his head, as you were still back in Winterfell.

“You really want to go out there again?” Gentry said, “You’re not the only ones.”

The men at the table looked at him confused,

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Upon reaching Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, Sandor and the Brotherhood were taken by wildlings serving alongside the Night's Watch, and were held in the ice cells below the castle.

“My scouts found them a mile south of the Wall. Said they were on their way here.” The man said, 

Jon looked at Sandor in the cell, “You’re the Hound, I saw you once at Winterfell.” Recognizing him instantly. Sandor sat up in his cell, not responding.

“They want to go beyond the wall too.” Gentry said angrily, untrusting of the Brotherhood.

“We don’t want to go beyond the Wall, we have to. Our Lord told us that the Great War is coming. It doesn’t matter what our reasons are, there is a greater purpose at work. And we serve it together, whether we know it or not.” Beric said standing, ready to give a speech, “We may take the steps but the Lord of Light–”

Sandor couldn’t take it anymore and interrupted, “For fuck’s sake will you shut your hole? Are we coming with you or not?” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

NOTE: Hmmm seems like our pookie bear might just be approaching…. I hope you like this. I am treating it as a season finale bc there won't be an update until maybe 6/30.

K love you, xoxo

Bambi

Beloved Tags: 

@dontfollowjuststuff @merfic @broadsdrinkwhisky  @vikingswhore0

@the-queen-of-sorrows @eddiesbongwater @not-neverland06  @symonedoesart 

@wyvernnest @bdudette @frosch-thefrog @patrick-hockstutter

@drymushroomfics @dream-a-little-nightmare 

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREEis here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here and this is part thirteen??? Hello??

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off...

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

…Bart doesn’t really do patience.

He doesn’t have to, so he doesn’t. Growing up in a world that wasn’t exactly real didn’t make for a real strong understanding of reality, or timing, or estimating how long something takes, or how long it would take a garden-variety human to complete a task.

He sits in the chair. He kicks his legs.

So. Bart doesn’t really do patience. When he wants to make his way through a book, it takes a few seconds to read through the whole thing at his standard pace. It’s great! Finishing the Troy Dodson series had taken ten minutes. He watched the full set of movies on quadruple-fast mode in about half an hour, and then still had the time to show up to the tower for trivia with the team that afternoon. It had been Crash!

And when—when Bart had wanted to learn how to cook, he went through half the recipes in Ma Kent’s copy of The Delights of Cooking in two days flat. And that was with missions. He even taught himself how to prepare squirrel from the back of the book! It tasted…uh, weird, sure, but that might have been his substitution of Caribbean jerk seasoning for garlic powder.

Patience is… Well, when Bart is on a mission and he has to wait for everyone to go at a human-comprehensible speed when laying out the plan of action, that’s patience. Sometimes he jumps the gun a little, maybe—but usually it all works out!

And when Bart has to wait for Barry and Wally to be free and off work for their day jobs, because they’re adults with real world things they have to do and Bart’s just—well, he’s—he tries to be patient! And he distracts himself with other things, and he takes the time to explore the world and get in new experiences he couldn’t have before in his own little virtual world, and he tries new things, and he eats new foods, and then Wally or Barry shoot him a text or ring him up and then he’s back in town in seconds anyway!

…But there isn’t a way to speed this along.

The doctor with the cute cat lanyard and Wonder Woman both have been trying to explain to Bart how bad the damage is. But Bart can tell. He has eyes.

His friend is physical now, but he’s not…right. His face is caved in, like someone hit him really really hard, or someone gouged out the whole front face of his skull—Bart can’t see any red matter, but that’s because of the pulsing green sheath that’s covered all of his friend’s open injuries.

And there’s a lot of green.

That means he’s super injured. Bart can see most of his glowing green not-face through the window of the metal tube his friend is sleeping in.

It’s not just his missing face, his crooked jaw, or his barely-moving chest, or his green-soaked fingers anyway; there’s open pits in his chest, slathered in green goo that shifts when he breathes and glows just a little in the odd light of the medical wing, lumpy and half-scarred from stitches that were sloppily applied. Utilitarian.

Tim told Bart that the sutures were probably meant more to prevent extra clean-up in a lab setting than to keep Bart’s friend alive.

…Bart doesn’t really want to think about that.

There are lime-tinged scrapes and scars across and around his friend's hands and up his arms, verdant-veined legs that aren’t exactly the right shape and orientation legs should be, crevasses in his stomach, his chest, against his collarbone, and the clawed-out pit where a face should be.

All green. So green. Like grass… Like the Earth, when Bart comes home from space.

It’s scary. It’s frightening.

Wonder Woman gave Bart a hug and said it would be okay when the Medical team started to apply white-swathed casts around misaligned legs, and Bart almost cried. The medical team thinks the green is his friend’s body working on healing him. That Bart’s friend will be okay.

Bart lets everyone say comforting things, because it’s kind when everybody’s kind. But Bart’s been an experiment in healing the unhealable and he knows as much as anyone else does that there’s simply no way to know if his friend will be okay.

But his friend isn’t alone like he was. Bart makes sure of it.

So he sits at his friend’s bedside, eats a granola bar, kicks his feet in the stiff chair Medical had to offer him, and Bart practices his patience.

By the end of this, he might even be good at it.

[kyuubinosennin]

return to the mists

It had been three years since Uzumaki Naruto left for training with Jiraiya. Three years had passed since the power of the villages had begun to shift. There were a series of events over three years that occurred following Naruto's appearance before Konohagakure's Hokage and his former teammates. One of the events was the public outing of Uzumaki Naruto by some unknown source. Now the world knew that the Kyuubi Jinchuriki still lived and that he was the son of a village's heroes. The ripple effects of that left Konoha side-eyed and regarded warily, but it also alerted others that the Uzumaki Clan was not as dead as it was thought to be. Another was the start to attacks on the jinchuriki. A nearly fatal assault on Sunagakure left its jinchuriki, Gaara, wounded and in hiding while he recovered. This assault had been stopped by a timely intervention from two fellow jinchuriki - Roshi and Han of Iwagakure. Yet, it introduced the world to a rising threat: The group called the Akatsuki. A band of mercenaries with a darker plan that had yet to be figured out. Yet another event was more tragic than anything. Miraomoi Akawarai had died in his sleep to old age and his waning health. A death that put Kiri in mourning for a while. Akawarai had been a pillar of the village and had moved mountains to better the village. He had inspired others and thus his loss was felt. Yet, he had set up things to continue on past his death - including the reborn Seven Swordsmen of the Mist. It was now time for the son of the seas to return home. Kiri was experiencing a quiet transition into the evening - the moon starting to lurch into the sky. Stars filled the vast sky above while the light mist settled down across the village. It was as the evening began that the Mizukage, Mei, would be tipped off to a very powerful presence now entering her village. A familiar presence of chakra that was now at Kiri's cemetery.

There, standing before the grave of Akawarai, was a familiar head of curly red hair. A "crown" of flames that befit a prince like he was. The young man with whisker marks on his face and his patterned scars. His body was covered by a tattered red cloak - tattered and "styled" to look like nine red and black tails. Two sheathed swords peeked out from his cloak. The scabbards looked to be simple in design - a dark brown leather holding for the swords. His head tilts when he feels her approaching. "I was going to come surprise you, but I suppose I should have suppressed my chakra first." remarked Naruto with a small smile crossing his face. He turned to face Mei - having done what he came to do by the time she arrived. A bouquet of flowers laid on Akawarai's grave.

[thegoldensanctuary]

Part VI: The 1702 Summer Set(N⁰ 1379) :

Tradition required the bedchamber decor to be changed twice a year, alternating between a winter set and a summer one. Although set 1881 is not explicitly referred to as the winter set in the Garde-Meuble until 1740 [125], André Félibien informs us that the practice of using red velvet for winter in the King’s bedchamber predated 1701 [126]. If set 1881 was already used for winter by 1701, then which set was used as a summer replacement in 1702? The answer can be found in the 1708 inventory [127], where a set of silver-background brocade is listed under number 1379. Set 1379 was initially delivered in May 1689 as an augmentation of set 867, delivered nine years earlier for the bath apartments [128].

6.1 The Tapestry Itself

Described in 1680 as alternating narrow pieces of two different brocades—one “silver background with figures of a shepherd and shepherdess” and the other “gold and silver with rinceau, outlined at the edge with ponceau” [129]—the 1689 Garde-Meuble entry, while consistent in describing the shepherd silver brocade, specifies that the other had a green background but omits the rinceau ornaments. The most complete description appears in the 1708 inventory: “Rich furniture of two brocades, one with silver background with figures of shepherd and shepherdess in gold and silver, and the other with green background chiseled with gold and with flowers of silver and gold” [130].

The 1689 delivery was intended to fill an alcove with eight pieces of silver shepherd brocade and seven pieces of the green brocade [131]; this layout remained the same in the 1701 bedchamber [132].

6.2 The Bed

The main element of set 1379 was its state bed, impressive in its dimensions. Its components were as follows:

No Headboard: None of the descriptions indicate the presence of a headboard.

The Headcloth: Described in 1689 as being like the curtains, “of ponceau brocade” [133]. As seen in Part 6.1, no ponceau brocade is mentioned in the set; instead, the color ponceau only appears as a border for the green-background brocade. This discrepancy is later clarified in 1708 when the curtains and headcloth are accurately described as “green background brocade with flowers of gold and silver outlined at the edge with ponceau” [134].

The Valences: Unlike previous descriptions, a more precise one does not come from the 1708 inventory, where they are mentioned along with the cantonières, bonne grace, and bases as simply being of “shepherd brocade” [135], but from the May 1689 Garde-Meuble entry, which states: “Three outer valences, with additional buttonholes, shells, tassels, and other embroidery taken from the campane left from the frieze of the tapestry; four inner valences. The seven valences [three outer + four inner] are entirely of the shepherd brocade, garnished at the bottom by large campane embroidery and at the top and sides by smaller campanes, with ponceau gros de tours lining” [136].

The Curtains: The fabric for the curtains matched the set: some were of shepherd brocade, while others were of the green brocade.The 1689 description specifies that the two bonne graces, two cantonières, and three bases were of the shepherd brocade, while the four outer-layer curtains were of the “ponceau brocade” [137]. As with the headcloth, the term "ponceau brocade" actually refers to the “green background brocade with flowers of gold and silver outlined at the edge with ponceau,” as inferred from the 1708 inventory [138].

The Quilt: Described in both 1689 and 1708 as being of “ponceau brocade” [139], the same caution regarding interpretation should be applied as above.

The Case Curtain: Made of 24 pieces of green taffeta sewn together, with large and medium gold and silver fringes at the bottom and sides [140].

The Columns: The two front columns were covered in sheaths: one in a brocade featuring Solomonic columns embroidered in gold and silver on a crimson satin background, and the other in a brocade with silver stripes and satin stripes adorned with gold and silver floral embroidery [141].

The Vases/Finials: Four in total (one at each corner), filled with feathers. No further information about the materials used is provided.

6.3 The Armchairs and Stools

The original 1680 description briefly mentions the presence of two armchairs [142].

In 1689, the armchairs and stools received new frames, which were “gilded and silver-plated.” The 12 stools from 1680 were replaced with eight folding stools at that time [143].

The armchairs were entirely covered with shepherd brocade on the backrest, seat, and armrests, with silver and gold braid and campane ornaments. The folding stools, on the other hand, had cushions made from a square of shepherd brocade surrounded by “ponceau brocade.” This term appears in both the 1689 Garde-Meuble entry [144] and the 1708 inventory [145]. We learn from the 1689 entry that there was not enough campane to decorate all eight folding stools; there was barely enough for six, and the remaining two had to rely on gold fringes instead [146]. This issue seems never to have been addressed, as the 1708 description notes this disparity as well [147].

These stools and armchairs were later encountered long after being removed from the bedchamber and returned to the Garde-Meuble, specifically in the 1775 general inventory of the Garde-Meuble, where they appear under number 106 among the brocade furnishings [148]. In this final description, we learn that, just as in 1708, the disparity in campane ornaments remained unaddressed and that the “ponceau brocade” mentioned in the 1689 and 1708 descriptions surrounding the shepherd brocade was, as expected, actually “of chiseled green background brocade, with silver and gold flowers” [149].

An additional armchair belonging to set 1870 is also listed in the 1708 inventory.

6.4 The Fire Screen

The fire screen was a new addition for the 1701 central bedchamber, as it was not part of the original delivery of set 1379 from May 1689. The 1708 inventory offers a lengthy description worth quoting in full:

“Fire screen with slide [écran à coulisse], covered on each side with a square of silver background brocade with vine, from which a grape hangs, with a shepherdess at the center enclosed by strips of green background brocade chiseled with gold, with gold and silver floral ornaments outlined at the edge with ponceau, garnished by a thin gold braid hiding the seam, with sculpted and gilded wood” [150].

6.6 The Table and Tablecloth

In 1689, at the initial delivery of the set, there were three different carpets (tapis), one of which was referred to as a table carpet (tapis de table) [151]. Although no table was provided with the initial delivery, the 1708 inventory mentions a fir wood table [152] with no inventory number listed directly after two of the aforementioned rugs, indicating that these other rugs were also likely table rugs, as was the first.

The first proper tablecloth was “made of the two brocades, garnished with fringes and gold and silver braids, lined with green taffeta” [153].

The second rug was made of green leather, with green taffeta lining and gold fringes.

The third rug, made of green taffeta with gold and silver fringes, is referred to in 1708 as the slipcover for the first.

6.7 The Portieres

The description of the four portieres is consistent between the 1689 Garde-Meuble entry and the 1708 description, comprising a total of five pieces of brocade sewn together: three of shepherd brocade and two of the green brocade, with campane ornaments at the bottom of two and fringes for the other two.

[125] AN O1/3453

[126] “The King’s bed is covered in red velvet in winter,” can be read in Félibien des Avaux, Description sommaire de Versailles ancienne et nouvelle, 1703 edition, p. 60. Despite the date of the edition, the rooms are described in their pre-1701 layout.

[127] AN O1/3445 f⁰ 2-4

[128] Guiffrey, Inventaire général du mobilier de la couronne sous Louis XIV, 1886 edition, vol. 2, p. 318

[129] Ibid

[130] AN O1/3445

[131] AN O1/3306 f⁰ 123 r⁰

[132] AN O1/3445

[133] AN O1/3306 f⁰ 122 r⁰

[134] AN O1/3445 f⁰ 2 • [135] Ibid

[136] AN O1/3306 f⁰ 122 r⁰

[137] Ibid

[138] AN O1/3445 f⁰ 3

[139] See previous footnotes

[140] AN O1/3445 f⁰ 2

[141] AN O1/3306 f⁰ 123 v⁰

[142] Guiffrey, 1886, vol 2, p.318

[143] AN O1/3306 f⁰ 122 r⁰

[144] Ibid v⁰

[145] AN O1/3445 f⁰ 3

[146] AN O1/3306 f⁰ 122 v⁰

[147] AN O1/3445 f⁰ 4

[148] AN O1/3345, f⁰ 272 v⁰

[149] AN O1/3445 f⁰ 3

[150] Ibid

[151] AN O1/3306 f⁰ 123 r⁰

[152] AN O1/3445 f⁰

[153] Ibid, AN O1/3306 f⁰ 123 r⁰

[portablebones]

Up to You.

astarion x gn!tav

sfw, fluff with a little internal angst on astarion's end

a re-imagining of astarion's scene with the gur monster hunter, but it's really just a short & sweet exploration of how he deals with being given a choice.

wc: ~500. might make it more detailed later.

"Astarion, please don't."

The elf stopped dead in his tracks. “Please?” he thought, turning back towards his companion.

"My dear, if you're trying to beg for this man's life, you'll need to do better than that." Despite his taunting, he remained where he stood. "That wasn't exactly...forceful."

"It was more of a request. I can't make you do anything. You've made that pretty clear," Tav chuckled darkly as they looked away. "Besides, that's not really my style." A moment of silence. Then they sucked in a breath, and met his gaze. "Look, I really don't think he needs to die-- but it's up to you."

Astarion only stared back. Then he sheathed his dagger, and walked away without another word, a strange mixture of lightness and anger pooling in his soul. He was sure he wanted to kill the Gur, to feel the man's warm blood pour over his hands. This was all it took to stop him? One measly, pathetic, "please?"

He had been so sure that now, he was unstoppable. He had escaped from Cazador, from mind flayers, from the Nine Hells themselves. For gods' sakes, he was a vampire who could walk in the sun! He shouldn't care what Tav thinks, he could have overpowered them easily! But despite assuring himself of these truths, he remained face to face with a chance at revenge he was given, but did not take. A choice he alone made.

A choice he made.

His reverie was interrupted by heavy footfalls behind him.

"How...do you walk...so fast?" Tav could scarcely breathe, and already they were asking questions. Astarion rolled his eyes.

"I think you're just slow, darling. Besides, perhaps I wanted a moment alone to think about all the ways I could have had my vengeance..." The vampire sighed dramatically, looking pointedly at a now red-faced Tav. He was only teasing, but their wide eyes betrayed their worry.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-- I'll leave you alone," they sputtered. "I didn't mean to make you upset, I just-- I didn't want him to die and I didn't think you'd actually listen to me..."

Astarion stopped walking. "Darling, I'm hurt! Of course I listened to you." He raised his hand to his heart in mock offense. Then, he shifted side to side. "But, just out of curiosity... what was your plan if I hadn't?"

Tav just looked at him.

"I... I dunno. To go through his pockets after you killed him?"

Astarion blinked, then blinked again. Slowly, a wry smile cracked his porcelain features, before he broke into laughter. Tav wasn't far behind, and soon the two of them were quite a sight, doubled over and wheezing on the side of the road.

Astarion didn't exactly need to breathe, but he still felt winded from his laughter after it subsided. As he straightened his posture, he turned to look at Tav, their smile bright as they wiped tears from their face; and he silently thanked them for a grace he still wasn't sure he wanted.

[theoneeyedgoldenwolf]

Witness the deaths, change their fate

Whumptober 2024, number 22: Bleeding Through Bandages, Reopening Wounds, "Oh that's not good."

Inspiration from @la-sera's comic:

Summary: The flaming red blade of the Shadow’s strikes Time into nightmare of prophecies. Is he capable of changing what his twisted mind brings out?

CW: Nightmares, torture, murder, drowning, ripped apart, blown apart, Major Character Death (in nightmares), blood, bleeding, stabbed, beating, death by being squished by an anvil, Malice, broken bones, dislocated bones, exhaustion, mind control, slashed, near death situation

Notion: - As I wrote this, I didn’t have any idea of putting the line from one of the Moon Children from Majora’s Mask into here. Yet, the moment Time repeated Legend’s words, that quote just struck me.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“TIME!”

The Chain’s leader gave out half a gasp, half a scream as the sword with red sheen around it was yanked out of his body. He sagged to the ground while gasping for air. The beast the Shadow had taken a form this time around was smirking right at him. “Try and survive that.” He snarled before vanishing into pool of blackness to avoid a swing of a sword as the eight Heroes dashed into the scene. The Shadow laughed as it escaped the scene and left the one eyed male falling unconscious and fighting for his life.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Time was just coming out of the house at Lon-Lon Ranch. He was ready to head to handle some simple monster problem Princess Zelda had informed of at last evening. It wasn’t anything of big or what would need the Chain to follow him.

“Good morning, Link!” Malon’s bright call brought a wide smile to the one eyed male’s face. He raised his gaze up from strapping his gauntlets to see both Twilight and Malon handling laundry. There certainly was lot of that with nine Heroes living at the house for the time being.

Suddenly excruciating pain struck and everything fell into black for a while. When he snapped his gaze open, the sight that befell him was horrendous. Malon and Twilight has been stuck down by arrows. He barely realized to be laying on the ground too as tears formed in his eye. He didn’t understand what in Goddesses Highest Throne had just happened.

Suddenly he felt a painful tug at his shoulder and the realization of an arrow having struck into him through his armor hit him. Before he could realize more, the projectile was cruelly snapped and he screamed in pain. He was gasping for air while just barely being able to open his eye to see his enemy.

If he would’ve had the air, he would’ve gasped at the sight of Dark Link. His reflection still wore the clothes he had had back in the Water Temple. It took a moment from him to realize that the bastard was standing on his hands to keep him from moving. He barely realized the blood pooling underneath him. He wasn’t certain if Dark Link had shot him and his closest family or if there had been other beasts. Either way, he hoped the rest of the Chain was still safe somewhere.

The sound of a sword being drawn out of its sheath snapped his notion back into his enemy. He flinched a bit as the dark version of the Master Sword’s tip was brought to his throat. “Say hello to Navi for me.” Dark Link smirked and this time Time gasped in shock as the realization struck. “That’s right. That’s why you never found her.” Dark Link laughed and struck the blade down.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The Chain of eight Heroes wished they could’ve chased after the Shadow but if the bastard had struck Time down, they weren’t going to risk their lives by not facing their enemy together. Besides, right now they needed to do all they could to save their oldest brother. They gathered quickly around the one eyed male and started to get his armor off.

Few of the Links stood in guard while the more experienced members with healing and medical work of their group were doing all they could to fix the situation. Most of the wounds were quite shallow and no danger at all. Warriors swiftly bandaged them to be on safe side. Hyrule worked hard to try and get his healing magic into working.

For first time in his life, he screamed out a curse. It startled the others while the Traveler was nearly snarling. “I can’t fix it.” He almost whispered while feeling the tears at his eyes. “It’s like back with Twilight. Something’s blocking me out.” He explained before taking a deep breath. “If nothing else, I can—“ He started before all eight members of the Chain of legendary Heroes gasped in start as Time suddenly screamed and arched.

“NO! TWI! MALON! YOU SON OF A—! NO!” The Old Man screamed and started to get up. His eye was open but he wasn’t seeing the forest or the Chain around him.

“Keep him down!” Warriors commanded while already pushing his little brother back to the ground. “Sprite! Calm down! It’s gonna be okay!” He half shouted as the oldest Hero started to struggle against the hold.

“NO! LET GO OF ME! TWILIGHT! MALON!” The one eyed male screamed before slowly reducing his fighting and just limply laid on the ground and sobbed. “No… Please… No…” He whispered before slowly falling unconscious again.

“Do what you can, Traveler.” The Captain stated out while bandaging the cruel stab wound.

“I know this is going to be a waste of a good potion but maybe it can help a bit.” Legend offered while having fished out a red potion. The war Hero just nodded and carefully pulled Time bit upwards to get the potion into him.

“There’s a town close by.” Wild told while checking his Slate for a map. “I think we can look after Time better at an Inn.” He commented and the others nodded in agreement. Twilight called Epona over and they carefully got the Old Man to her back with the Rancher behind him to keep him secured. Hyrule changed into his fairy form and hid into mare’s owner’s pocket so he could continue to try and help with his healing magic once they’d get to the Inn.

“Get him there swiftly. We’ll follow as quickly as we can.” Warriors told while sending the trio off. After that he glanced at his brothers. The five with him nodded firmly and they dashed after the horse.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Time growled and fought against the hold. He and the Captain had been taken off guard at the street and he woke up finding himself tied and held against someone. The horse’s movement felt too fast for the calm walking it was doing but the confusion wasn’t enough to snap him out of the hellish situation.

Warriors was in a cart in front of him inside a sturdy looking cage. His arms were tied behind his back and there were five Knights inside the cage with him. The group smirked as they attacked the Captain with and without weapons.

The one eyed male snarled and fought but the gag around his mouth prevented him from screaming. The ropes were made to withstand fire so he couldn’t burn himself free either. The arm around him was too strong for him to move much. All he could do was to watch as those traitorous soldiers murdered his brother before his eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Twilight hated how hard he had to hold on to Time. The unconscious mentor of his was trashing and whining while crying. The Rancher whispered reassuring words but he felt like his voice and actions were going right past the Chain’s leader’s understanding.

Hyrule came out of Twilight’s pocket the moment they had reached the Inn. He went inside to book the biggest room the place had while knowing he wasn’t much of help in carrying Time in. Yet, all he could do was to keep the doors open for him and lead him to the right room.

While the Rancher went to take Epona to the stable, the Traveler stayed with their leader. He checked the bandaged wounds and took most off of the areas where the cuts had already been healed by the potion.

Just when the Chain’s leader’s blood relative came back, Time screamed and arched again. “WARS!” He screamed out and sat up abruptly. He growled and snarled while fighting as Twilight and Hyrule tried to get him back down. “NO! LEAVE HIM ALONE! WARS!” The one eyed male screamed while seeing something the others couldn’t. Slowly the Old Man just slumped and cried.

“What the hell’s he’s going through?” The half-fairy queried quietly while feeling tad freaked out.

“I don’t know. But I think it’s different compared to what I saw.” The Rancher replied sorrowfully. He and the Traveler glanced at each other before doing their best to ease out their oldest brother’s trapped mind. Hyrule gently braided the one eyed male’s hair while Twilight ran his fingers through the untouched golden hair of his mentor’s.

Soon enough the others came into there. “How is he?” Warriors inquired straight off while noticing the anguish on his little brother’s face.

“He screamed for you, Warriors.” The half-fairy replied while moving off the way to let the Captain to the bed. The war Hero nodded while taking the place and doing his best to calm his little brother down. Sadly, it seemed like his words weren’t heard and his actions weren’t felt. Time just kept crying while having bit curled up.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Time couldn’t move. Something or someone was holding him down but he couldn’t care of what that was. His gaze was in the group smirking wickedly. There were trapped fairies right before them and Hyrule was one of those colorful beings.

“NO! NONONO! LEAVE THEM ALONE!” The one eyed male screamed but he couldn’t get freed. He couldn’t do anything as the people tore the small beings to pieces. He was crying and screaming. He tried to struggle and get free. He tried all the magics he had but nothing worked. Nothing came out.

“PIXIE!” The Chain’s leader screamed in terror and horror as the small half-fairy’s wings were torn from his back. The screams of the fairies would haunt him for the rest of his life. And there was nothing he could do to stop these people from torturing and murdering those benevolent helpers.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The eight Heroes fought to keep Time down as he trashed and fought to get free. The one eyed male was crying and screaming but nothing his boys did to soothe him reached his terrorized mind. Their actions only made things worse.

Wolfie carefully laid down over his mentor in hopes of soothing and keeping him down. That seemed to stop the fighting but it didn’t help to clear the hell the Chain’s leader’s mind was trapped into. The canine whined miserably while searching for help from the others. His brothers didn’t meet his gaze as they watched their oldest brother suffer without being able to aid him even one bit.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“WIND!”

Time fought hard to get through the pirates. The Bokoblins had entirely outnumbered them and flanked the Sailor’s ship. They were going down with the beautiful wooden vessel. It was already sinking and the beasts were keeping them from overtaking their ships.

The pirate-Hero, though, had been overpowered but the monsters didn’t kill him. No, they tied him up and added heavy weights all around him before throwing him overboard. After that the creatures turned back into the battle at the Sailor’s ship.

The Chain’s leader didn’t think as he reached the edge of the vessel and dived. He gasped when something took hold of him and yanked him back into the ship’s floor. “NO!” He screamed out and fought to get up to his feet. Twilight dashed past him and dived into the water.

“Damn it, Sprite! If you jump into there, you’ll sink like a rock!” Warriors snapped while undoing the Hookshot from his little brother’s armor.

“At least I could’ve caught him!” Time snarled back and dashed to the railing the moment he was free. Yet, he didn’t jump into the water. He searched the surface while ignoring the battle and sinking ship. Eventually Twilight came back to the surface and just shook his head.

The one eyed male crashed to his knees and screamed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Some hours had gone past when the Chain suddenly jerked at the agony filled scream and they snapped their notion right into their leader. Time had curled up and broken down. “No.. Nononono…. Pirate….” He whined miserably and the eight Heroes glanced at each other.

“Guys…” Four called and nodded towards their oldest brother’s back.

“Oh that’s not good.” Wild half whispered before already working with his Slate to bring out more bandages.

“Damn it…” Warriors growled and gently forced his little brother to turn to his back. The one eyed male didn’t fight back against the action. “His trashing has probably reopened the wound.” The war Hero whispered while starting to change the bandages.

“We gotta keep better check on him.” Wind commented while hating when the wounds didn’t heal as they should. It never was a good thing when one of his brothers bled through the bandages.

“I’ll try to stop the bleeding and fix the wound a bit.” Hyrule offered while already starting his magic. He couldn’t fix it as well as he wished to but at least he could keep his brother from bleeding to death. “Give him a red potion. I need to work it into covering for the lost blood.” He requested and Sky quickly gave the needed drink. While the Captain carefully forced it down his little brother’s throat, the Traveler changed his magic and worked with the rearranging the potion’s work into renewing lost blood. It wasn’t easy and he needed to take a nap afterwards but at least it secured Time’s life for the moment.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Time found himself from the field of Wild’s Hyrule. He looked around but he didn’t see any of his boys around. He couldn’t even feel them. Suddenly an explosion caught his notion.

The one eyed male didn’t think twice as he already dashed to the scene beyond the close by hill. He gasped in full horror when the scene came to his sight. Before he even could fully comprehend anything, he was already dashing into the battle.

Wild had been struck by a blast from a Guardian Stalker. There were two of them. They took turns in blowing the Champion up until they were close enough. At then they struck with their sharp claws and began to tear the Hero of Wild into pieces.

Time screamed while drawing out his Biggoron Sword. He swung it while knowing his attack would cause devastating damage into the mechanical enemies. And yet, his strike went right past the things. Those things didn’t even acknowledge him in any of way. Even Wild didn’t see him.

The Old Man stared petrified at the situation before him. He was a ghost. He couldn’t save his boy. The sword slipped from his hold as he sank to his knees. He was doomed to watch his family die right before his eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The Chain did their best to soothe their crying oldest brother. “Wild… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I failed you.” Time whispered while having curled up again and hidden his face into his hand. The Champion carefully moved to be in front of his leader. He gently pulled the one eyed male’s arms around him and scooted as close to him as he could.

“I’m here, Time. I’m okay. You haven’t failed me in any of way.” The master archer whispered while holding the older male as tightly as he dared without causing harm to him. And yet, his attempts and reassuring words went to deaf ears.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Time heard the ruckus coming from the forge. It didn’t sound normal so he dashed over to check the situation. He gasped in shock when he saw the Moblin. He drew out his knife as all the other weapons were at the Inn. His armor was the reason the Smithy was in here.

Before the one eyed male had a chance to attack, the beast raised its current weapon high above its head. The terror struck hard when he saw the bloodied anvil. Right after that it was already struck down before being accompanied by a sound of splash instead of metal striking floor. And he knew on that second what he’d see on the creature’s other side.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Time screamed and abruptly sat up. “Hold him down!” The command went past him but he started to fight when the Chain forced him back down. He didn’t see them. He saw the forge and the Moblin. He needed to kill the beast but clearly that thing hadn’t been there alone.

“Fucking hell! Let me go!” He snarled and fought. “I’m going to fucking murder that thing! It killed Four! That son of a bitch!” He shouted and struggled against the hold with all he got. Yet, even he wasn’t capable to get free from all the strength increasing items and accessories.

“Tie him down!” Warriors commanded unwillingly.

“What?” Most of the Chain queried in unison with full shock in their voice. That slight distraction almost gave their oldest brother a chance to get free. Yet, before he got far with his attempt, the Links were already forcing him back down.

“Tie him down. He’s a danger to himself at the moment.” The Captain told sorrowfully. “That trashing won’t do anything good to the wound.”

The war Hero’s brothers hesitated for a moment before nodding. Unwillingly they tied the one eyed male into the bed as securely as they could.

“He’s not going to like this.” Hyrule commented after pulling off a bit. He checked the wound and grimaced as it had reopened again.

The Captain sighed heavily and nodded. “I know. But he’ll understand when we explain.” He replied sorrowfully before starting to change the bandages and letting the Traveler fix the bleeding again.

“While he’s immobilized we need to keep better watch.” Legend reminded and the others nodded.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Time heard the metal creek and felt the air swish around him. It took a moment from him to realize he was standing in a huge room. The sound of a battle slowly started to register in his mind. When he turned his notion towards the source of the noise, he stared wide-eyed at the scene.

Sky was dealing with a huge metallic being. It had way too many hands and a smiling face. The blades in its hands were sharp and swishing in all possible ways. The Chosen Hero was swift and agile against the being. And, for a moment, the one eyed male hoped for a better outcome. But that wasn’t given to him.

Instead, he saw the Skyloftian Knight falter once. And that was more than enough for the stationary being to finish him off. One quick move of all arms. Two different directions for the blades to slash in horizontal strike… And Sky was in five different pieces on the ground.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When the Chain’s leader started to trash and fight against the bindings, Twilight turned into Wolfie and very carefully went to lay over him. The rest of the Links did their best to try and soothe their oldest brother. And yet, the music, reassuring words, running fingers through hair and braiding the hair didn’t aid even one bit.

This time the one eyed male was screaming after Sky. It was clear the Old Man was raged about whatever had happened in his mind’s visions. “I guess I’ll be the next one.” Legend whispered while already trying to do all he could to ease the upcoming nightmare into something else. Yet, as he believed, there wasn’t anything he could do to prevent Time from falling into that hellish situation.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Time didn’t want to kill. He couldn’t kill. It just wasn’t what he was capable of. And yet, when he saw those fully armored Knights of Hyrule attacking Legend, he was more than ready to commit murder. He didn’t care at the moment that those men were influenced by mind control magic. All that he DID care was the fact they were ready and willing to kill one of his boys.

The one eyed male stormed forward and the whole army of the Veteran’s era came between him and the Specialist. He tore through them with his Biggoron Sword while ignoring the slashes and stabs those avoiding his strikes were giving him. He needed to get past them as fast as possible.

And yet, the Chain’s leader was too slow. By the time he reached the main bad guys of the situation, it was already too late. Legend laid dead on the ground with the ten Knights having bloodied swords.

The Old Man saw red. He screamed and attacked every single Knight in his vicinity. None of them survived through his hatred and agony as he turned those against the ones responsible for his boy’s death.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The Chain of Heroes hated to see their oldest brother first fight against the ropes that held him down before succumbing into anguish. Part of them rather took the rage and fight than see their leader break down. Legend tried his best to get Time to understand that he was safe and sound. Yet, like all the times before, their desperate attempts were useless.

“We can’t do anything else than wait and hope for the best.” Twilight whispered sorrowfully while sitting on the bed.

“You didn’t trash and scream and break down.” Hyrule reminded bit roughly even though he didn’t mean the words to come out as such.

“Maybe not but the blade’s the same. The Shadow struck with same cruel magic.” The Rancher reminded. “He just… Has far more regrets of which that asshole can use as its playground.”

“What do you think he’s seen so far?” Four inquired bit curiously.

“I wish he didn’t see any of what he’s seen so far.” Warriors almost snapped while trying to hold back his roughness.

“I… Didn’t meant it like that…” The Smithy apologized.

“I know.” The Captain sighed and gave a weak smile. “I’m sorry too.” He half whispered while returning his gaze into Time.

“We’re all worried. It’s why we’re so edgy right now.” Sky soothed the situation as well as he could. “Time will pull through. We just have to believe in that and not give up on the hope.” The others nodded but it still was rough situation to bear.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Time found himself from a pitch black cave. It didn’t feel like it would’ve been big but the lightlessness made it way too eerie for him. The sound of heavy breathing got him to turn around swiftly. He gasped in shock and terror while taking unconscious step backwards.

The Chain stood right before him. Their eyes weren’t of the different shades of blue he had learned to know. Instead they were almost golden and shining. The black goo was dripping off of them. There were other golden eyes around their bodies. The smile the eight had was wicked and crooked.

“Join us…” They nearly chanted while slowly reaching towards the one eyed male. He took another freaked out step backwards while staring wide-eyed at the scene. “N-no… B-boys… W-what the hell…” He stammered while trying to understand the situation. Yet, suddenly the realization struck. Malice. It was the only plausible answer.

“NO!” Time screamed in rage. He called forth the Light Magic and struck it on full force against the ground like he would with the first three magics he had learned. The golden dome spread fast and strong. He flinched roughly and began to tremble when he heard his boys scream.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The Chain sighed heavily and sorrowfully when Time began to whimper. Even though they knew actions wouldn’t get through, they got up from the card game they had going and moved towards their leader. Yet, before they got close to the bed, the one eyed male screamed in rage. That sound was followed by rough and uncontrolled strike of Light Magic.

The eight Heroes gasped in near fright while shutting their eyes as tightly as they could. They turned their backs to the scene while trying to defend themselves from the unexpected attack. When the light faded and they slowly blinked their eyes open, it took a moment for them to realize their oldest brother groaning.

The Old Man slowly opened his eye before gasping as he couldn’t move. His freaked out gaze fell into the ropes. “T-the hell…?” He half queried while first tugging at the restraints before already yanking. “No… Oh, Deities, no…” He mumbled with rising panic.

“Sprite?” Warriors called and the one eyed male snapped his notion into him. “Calm down, little brother. We’ll set you free.” He assured while approaching the bed carefully with the others in tow.

“Wars? W-what…? Why am I…?” The Chain’s leader queried while trying to understand the situation.

“You with us, Old Man?” Legend half asked while starting to open the straps at the middle of the bed. The others quickly joined in to set their oldest brother free.

“W-what that’s supposed to mean?” The one eyed male inquired while swiftly sitting up the moment he was free enough to do so.

“Whoa! Easy! You’re still healing, Sprite!” Warriors half shouted and gently forced his little brother back down. Time had groaned in pain and allowed the action just to ease the feeling down.

“What happened?” The oldest Link queried while frowning in confusion. “I… I remember….” He started before trailing off and growling. “Fuck. That blade.” He nearly snarled while digging his fingers into his hair.

“Sprite.” The Captain called bit warningly while slightly fearing for his brother to start harming himself.

Time huffed and gave bit of a rough look to his older brother. He pulled his hands out of his hair and closed his eye. “I was struck by that flaming sword of Shadow’s. How long I’ve been out of count?” He stated out before opening his eye to look around in search of an answer.

“For about a day.” Sky answered sorrowfully.

“You’ve been having rough nightmares. Remember anything of those?” Four continued and bit tilted his head to side.

The one eyed male sighed and slowly shook his head while bit frowning. “Not much. Just bits and pieces.” He answered and shivered violently. “I’d rather not remember that little what I do remember.” He mumbled before bit pushing himself upwards.

“Sprite.” The war Hero called and raised an eyebrow as Time rolled his eye.

“I’d like to sit up…..” The Chain’s leader started before slumping beneath the look his older brother was giving him. “…wards. Upwards. I’m not happy of laying and not seeing you guys that of well.” He quickly continued with bit of a sheepish look.

Warriors stared at the oldest Link for a moment before sighing. “Fine. Gather the pillows.” He half commanded and the others swiftly went to fetch the extras from the other beds in the room. The one eyed male gave a grateful look to the war Hero before bit yelping as the Captain gently ran his hand past his brother’s face. “Seriously, Sprite. You should be resting and not trying to get up.”

“I know. And I will.” The Old Man replied and smiled fondly as the others gently and carefully placed the pillows around him to tuck him into better position. “Thank you.” He half whispered before turning his gaze back into Warriors. “Honestly speaking, I just want a group hug after all those nightmares.” Yet, before he even got to the end of his sentence, the seven already glomped him while being careful of his wounds.

The war Hero chuckled and joined in while feeling grateful of Time still being alive and with them. The oldest Link sighed in relief and relaxed while feeling entirely content in the hold. Yet, even though he had claimed he didn’t really remember those nightmares, it wasn’t entirely truthful.

Those horrid situations were slowly sliding right into his memory and he fought not to shiver at the hell he had witnessed. Even though those had been given roughly and in the wrong way, he knew exactly what those nightmares had been: Prophetic dreams. And he was adamant of making them different. The only thing was that he wasn’t certain if he should actually let the others know of them or not. Telling them out made them real. And yet, telling them out would help him to change them. Still, he hesitated as he felt like this time around it was better to keep the others out of the loop.

Time wasn’t certain if that hesitation was his own or the remnant of Shadow’s cruel magic. Either way, it was clear the others would do everything in their power to change things if they knew. And that might’ve turned things from bad to worse. After all, he was already making plans and choosing his actions. Sadly, some of those situation would need bit of luring the bad guys out. That was why he eventually held the information to himself while hoping for the best.

Couple of weeks later the Chain’s leader had healed well enough from the near death bringing stab given by the Shadow. He felt full dread when they found the portal and moved through it with him in the lead. Something within him told he needed to reach other end before his boys or he’d regret it.

The moment the one eyed male felt to have reached the other side, he already knew. Without thinking he already performed the moves and screamed as he struck with the Light Magic. The black goo he had been standing in moved away from the glow of the light that had already appeared into his hands. The moment he struck his palms into the uneven floor of the cave, the magic spread fast and rough.

The Old Man flinched a bit when he heard his boys gasp in shock but he didn’t give up on his work. The Light Magic spread as far as the cave went. On the same time he gained a map of the area through his magic. “Come on! We need to move!” He commanded while quite well forced the eight into action. “Run!” He nearly shouted while making sure everyone was going to right road.

“Time, what’s going on?” Wind called while bit stumbling. His oldest brother yanked him up into his arms while pushing the others forward.

“No time for explanation! Just keep running!” Time commanded while making sure everyone was along. “Out! Out of the cave! NOW!” He shouted while feeling the Malice returning from the unexpected attack against it.

The second the oldest Link was out, he already set Wind down and behind him as he turned around to face the cave they had just come out of. Without thinking, he screamed and struck with beam of Light Magic at the mouth of the cave. The Malice screeched and recoiled backwards into the deeper darkness of the area.

Time staggered few steps backwards before gasping and falling to his knees while gasping for air. “What the hell was that?” Legend queried in shock.

“Malice.” Wild half whispered before turning his gaze into Time. “How did you…?” He started before already understanding. “Those nightmares… You do remember them.”

“Prophecies.” The Chain’s leader replied. “They were prophecies that need to be changed.” He stated out while forcing himself back to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.” He half commanded and began to usher the eight Links towards the field instead of the forest. “We need lighter area. A place the Malice can’t come.” He explained while wishing it would’ve been bright daylight instead of evening and the moment of setting sun.

“I know where we can go. It’s safe and sacred.” The Champion told and took the lead swiftly.

“Sprite? What did you see?” Warriors inquired while coming next to his brother to make sure he was capable of making the trip to the closest Stable.

“The less you know, the better.” Time answered and gave bit of pleading look to the war Hero. “It’s the only way I can change them.” He explained sorrowfully. “I know it’s not how we did it during the war. And I know it’s not how my first and second quests went but…” He trailed off uncertainly while turning his gaze away.

“You fear us changing things will throw it into different kind of hell?” The Captain asked and the older male nodded sorrowfully.

“I’ll tell if I feel like it’s the only way to change things.” Time promised while already having a feeling there would come such turns.  Warriors nodded while bit frowning as he thought it through.

“I think we should talk with the others too. They deserve some answers.” The war Hero stated out. The one eyed male sighed but he nodded in understanding. “I’ll handle the talking, don’t worry.” He said with a slight reassuring smile.

After about an hour of walking, the Chain of nine Heroes reached the Stable. Wild swiftly bargained a stay for them before already handling evening meal. The Captain looked around at his brothers by the cooking fire before giving out a signal whistle to catch everyone’s notion.

“As we heard, Time’s had prophetic dreams due that red flared sword.” Warriors started as calmly as he could. “Of course, we all wish to change what he saw.” He raised his hand to silence the upcoming requests to tell the nightmares out. “Time’s dealt with prophetic dreams before so he knows how to handle them. And right now he believes the right action is to keep them to himself. I know you guys aren’t happy of that. Neither am I, to be honest. But, I’d rather we don’t force Time into revealing those dreams.” He continued as firmly as he could. “Time will tell us what we need to know of them.”

The Chain’s leader took a deep breath and raised his gaze up from the fire. “I know none of you is happy of this. And I don’t blame you for that.” He started bit sorrowfully. “The problem is that I don’t know how swiftly these situations will come forth. I don’t want you to wait for things that won’t happen. If you know, you’ll worry too much. I…” He trailed off for a moment with a slight frown while dropping his gaze down for a moment. “The thing is that I’m in tune with time magic. It gives me bit of heads-up when the prophecies are up for coming forth. I’ll be able to react swiftly enough. Like at that cave of Malice.”

“Even if we would’ve known, we wouldn’t have reacted fast enough.” Twilight half whispered and the one eyed male nodded.

“I know most of you have Light Magic in usage but… In that darkness… Would you have known when you’re through the portal?” The Old Man half queried and saw the uncertainty within his boys. “That’s the kind of heads-up I’ll get. I know when the situation is on and I need to react to it.” He explained and the others nodded in understanding. “When I tell you guys to do something, no matter how confusing or odd—“

“We’ll follow your command to the letter.” Legend promised firmly and the seven brothers of his nodded firmly. “If any of chances… Can you give any heads-up on what’s to wait for?”

Time calmed down a bit and nodded with a slight smile. “I’m not sure. It’s bit hard to know in what order things happen but…” He started with slight frown. He thought through the prophecies while trying to find anything he could give out. “I think… Each of them happened in your own eras. Except for one which is in mine. So, on that line…” He half thought aloud  before making his choice. He took quite determined look onto his face as he pointed at the Veteran. “Magic Cape.” His notion went to Four. “I’ll be with you at the forge.” Next he pointed at Wild. “Stay behind me.” From there he picked Wind. “Stay with your brothers and make sure you won’t be fighting alone.” Lastly he turned to Warriors. “You and me… No night walk.”

“And the rest of us?” Hyrule asked bit worriedly.

The Chain’s leader sighed bit heavily. “I didn’t see enough to know the full situation. Things jut were already on before I could catch the reasons or how we ended into them.” He confessed sorrowfully and the remaining three Links nodded in understanding.

Couple of days later the next portal opened up. Wild frowned as he recognized his own era. “I don’t think we’ve before been brought straight back to one’s own era through the portal.” He told while checking the Slate.

“Wild.” Time called with slight dread within his voice.

“Got it.” The Champion straight off stated out and moved behind his leader. The others swiftly surrounded him to give more protection to their brother.

“No.” The Old Man commanded. “Spread.” He stated out while looking around the grassy field. “Two of those mechanical walking things. I can only get one down. The rest of you need to deal with the other one.”

“Guardian Stalkers?” Wild gulped before shaking his head and throwing the memory of his death out of his head. “Which way?” He queried instead while already taking his Slate back up. Time took a check on the map before nodding slowly.

“They come from here and here.” The Chain’s leader told while tapping on the screen.

“Okay. You guys can hide into here.” The Champion told while pointing to a place. “Cut its feet and ram a sword into its eye. That should handle it off.” He advised and the others nodded in acceptance before glancing at Time.

“Go. I and Wild will catch their notion.” The one eyed male replied while starting to lead the way. The others dashed off to get to right place. They all were bit worried of the situation but they trusted each other to handle their parts of the simple plan.

Soon enough the two Guardian Stalkers caught the notion of the Hylian Champion. Time pushed Wild behind him while raising his hand and pointing it at the one that was coming from right in front of them. He glanced at the other before bit grinning as the seven Links attacked it. “Just bit closer… Get into my reach…” He half whispered before taking a deep breath and closing his eye. “Let’s see how you deal with electricity when it’s turned against you.” He mused bit wickedly.

Just as the mechanical being was up for charging its attack, the thing jerked roughly. Right after that it started to buzz as electricity was seen all around its body. It twitched and jerked like a ragdoll. After a while it just crumbled to the ground until it suddenly blew up.

The one eyed male sighed in relief before bit gasping as he fell to his knees. “Shit… Haven’t worked with electricity that of much.” He told with a slight chuckle. Only a moment later another explosion was heard as the second Guardian Stalker was taken down. Wild helped Time up and they headed off towards the area to check on their brothers.

The duo sighed in relief when they came to the scene and found all seven safe and sound. When the Links saw their leader and cook, they already dashed over in worry. “Just bit exhausted.” The oldest Hero straight off told while waving his hand dismissively. Yet, before he could go further with his words or decline, Legend had already handed out a green potion. He huffed a bit and rolled his eye but he accepted the helping drink.

The next portal opened up nearly instantly after the Chain’s leader had regained his strength and stamina. The eight with him felt uncertain of going through it but their oldest brother just took the lead. “The quicker these are done, the better for everyone.” He offered as a reassurance even though he was certain it didn’t fully hit as such. The others sighed a bit but they nodded and followed him forward into the next situation that needed to be changed.

When the nine Heroes got through the portal, Sky gasped in shock as he looked around. “I’ve been to here.” He told while recognizing his era and the Temple. “There’s an enemy right ahead of us at the next room. Koloktos. A mechanical swordsman.” He explained while checking his whip to be ready to tear its limbs off so he’d get to attack the main part.

“No.” Time half commanded while placing his hand onto the younger Hero’s shoulder. “We all enter the room but you’re not fighting like you used to.” He partly reminded while going through all he knew of his brothers. “Wild.” He called while turning towards the Champion. “Once the beast is together, you freeze it. The rest of us will tear its core to pieces.”He planned out and the master archer nodded in acceptance.

“Sounds fast and easy.” The Chosen Hero commented while calming down. He returned the whip to his pocket and nodded firmly. After that they walked to the door and entered the round room. The moment everyone was inside the door locked behind them, the golden colored metals moved and the huge creature came to life.

The creatures stood straight off to its feet which didn’t only take Sky but the oldest Hero too out of guard. “That’s not…” The oldest Link started before calming down and grinning. “Wild, if you please.” He simply called and nodded towards the creature.

“On it!” The Champion half shouted while already working with the Slate. The creature was whole time coming towards the nine swordsmen while swishing its weapons in wide and powerful slashes. “NOW!” The master archer shouted the moment the Stasis hit and froze their enemy to its place.

The eight dashed forward while drawing out their sword. They quickly took places from where they all could strike at their target without being on someone else’s way. Even with the Stasis in work, Time, Twilight and Legend forced the bars open to increase the chances for striking. “Guys, back!” Wild shouted as he noticed the timer running out.

“Just a moment!” Four shouted as he placed a bomb inside the cage where their enemy’s core was at.

Time smirked widely at the action. “Oh that’s a perfect idea!” He half shouted while taking out his own bomb and placing it next to the Smithy’s. Several more quickly joined the two before the eight Heroes ran away from the Koloktos frozen in time. They swiftly turned around after having reached their Chain’s cook to see if they needed to keep fighting against their enemy.

The Stasis flashed off and the metallic multi-handed creature began to retch and jerk roughly as the strikes the Heroes had given it finally found their target. When it was up for recovering enough to continue the battle, one of the bombs blew up while creating a enormous blast as it caused the other bombs to go off too. Time quickly and unconsciously called out Nayru’s Love to defend himself and his boys from the pieces that flew into all possible directions as the Koloktos exploded.

After calming down, the Chain, one to few at a time, began to laugh. “Oh Goddesses! That was awesome!” Wind cheered in delight. The others agreed while nodding and grinning widely.

“Well, that certainly was perfect way to take down a monster.” The one eyed male grinned. He quite well wished they could redo this at some point to other beasts too. The others nodded before already feeling tad uncertain as a portal suddenly opened up into middle of the room. “Guess we just gotta head forward.” He half sighed before grinning. “Who knows, maybe we’ll come up with more ways to deal with the problems.” He offered as a reassurance before leading his boys into the next era.

As the nine Heroes walked through the dark hallway of sinister magic, Time already knew. He grit his teeth while knowing he couldn’t hide his older brother or the fact of who he was. He tried not to show his uncertainty as he came into middle of the Castle Market from the portal and found lot of people staring in shock, fear and awe.

The Chain followed him soon and the Captain recognized the area and era swiftly. The Old Man gave him a sharp look and the war Hero stayed silent. “Let’s find an Inn and make plans.” He commanded while making sure everyone stayed close by.

Once at the safety of the Inn’s biggest room, the one eyed male already paced around. “No-one goes around after the evening.” He started commandingly while finally raising his gaze up into his brothers. “We’ll be around the town only during bright daylight. And no-one goes alone.” He stated out while not being able to push away the dread and fear of the situation. “And while we’re at here, we’ll keep night watches. I don’t trust this place even one bit.”

“Restocking and information gathering tomorrow. Three teams.” Legend stated out while raising an eyebrow as he searched for a confirmation from his oldest brother. Time nodded in agreement and bit calmed down as the groups were swiftly formed. The Veteran would stay with him and the war Hero. Twilight, Wild and Four created the second group. Third had Wind, Hyrule and Sky. It seemed wise enough combinations.

After that the Old Man did his best to describe the men he had seen in his vision. He made the Chain swear they wouldn’t approach the group or its members for any of reason. It was lot asked from group of Heroes but they agreed to it in hopes of keeping Warriors safe and Time with one worry less on his shoulders.

It took couple of days before the Chain’s leader felt himself calm down. Something told him that the danger had passed and the group wasn’t around anymore. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel bit grateful when the portal opened up to the market at the next day. At least they had managed to restock and get some rest in actual beds even with the night shifts.

The portal brought the nine Links right into middle of a ship’s deck. The Sailor squealed in full delight when he recognized the pirate ship. Before anyone could stop him, he already dashed off to find Tetra and her crew. Time sighed and shook his head while the rest of the Chain scattered around. Yet, Warriors stayed by his little brother. “Tell me.” He simply whispered while having already figured out who’s turn it was.

“Keep your eyes open and search for enemy ships. When those are sighted, gather everyone close to me.” The oldest Link stated out firmly and the Captain nodded in understanding. The war Hero took once a check around before he went to find his brothers. The one eyed male noticed how his older brother gave the heads-up to the others and how the Chain, one to few at a time, ended up bit startled but very swiftly getting to be more alert of their surroundings. He smiled a bit and slightly relaxed as he knew there were more eyes searching for enemies and being ready to react at then.

It took a day of sailing before the alarm was given. The Chain’s leader dashed up to the deck while already fearing to be too late. Yet, he sighed in relief as he saw how far the other ships were. “Everyone! Gather around!” He commanded even though he wasn’t the captain of the given vessel. Yet, for his relief Tetra and her crew came close along with his boys. “Keep eye on them and tell me when they’re in the reach of those cannons.” He requested as he was unaware of how far one could shoot those heavy balls.

“Mikau, you awake?” Time called while feeling uncertain of the situation.

“Entirely. Ready whenever you need me.” The Zora guitarist replied while being up and about for sharing his Water Magic.

“You know when to lend me the helping hand.” The oldest Link nodded inwardly while feeling tad grateful of the back-up he had within him. The aquatic male nodded back and kept close check on the situation. Yet, Mikau gave out the same warning that came from Wind only seconds later: The enemy was in the reach.

The Old Man nodded firmly before already performing the moves for Nayru’s Love. He needed it to be wide and strong enough to cover for the whole ship. He gasped a bit when he felt Fierce lend his own strength in magic to keep the shield up and working.

Time relaxed a bit as he had the aid from two of his ghostly companions. He kept close check on the other ships while bit flinching as the cannonballs struck into the shield every now and then. “They’re close enough.” Dextri called and the other three nodded in confirmation.

The one eyed male grinned a bit and began to perform the next magic. Yet, he didn’t hit the full work of Farore’s Wind as he extracted the wind part from it. His grin widened as he felt the Deku Butler’s Son and Darmani III lend their strength, accuracy and magic into his work. He screamed when he struck his hands against the wooden floor of the pirate ship’s deck.

The crowd around him gasped a bit at the rough gale that whirled off from the Chain’s leader. He slowly stood up while having the storm wind circling around them. After that he began to dance around while commanding the magic to do as he wished of it. The tornados crashed into the ships and tore them apart while throwing the Bokoblins high into the air and straight into the raging water below.

Time was panting when he had destroyed eight enemy ships out of fourteen. The storm died off and the ocean calmed down. The ships commanded by monsters turned their vessels back into crashing and flanking their target. “Not on my watch.” He growled while beginning to perform third magic’s moves. Moves that Mikau showed to him while sharing his Water Magic with his close friend.

Again the Hero of Termina struck his hands against the deck of the ship to initiate the magic fully. He listened to the Zora’s commands of sorts while doing as told and he screamed again as he stood back up and struck his hands high above him. The people with him gasped in full shock as the water suddenly rose around them before already rushing off towards the enemies. The tidal wave crashed roughly into their ships and shattered them while sending two crashing against each other before the waves reached them.

When the last ship fell, the Old Man gasped and fell roughly to his knees. “W-was… W-was that all…?” He queried quietly while raising his gaze up into something only Wind saw: Mikau. The Zora glanced once around before closing his eyes and connecting with the water around him. After that he opened his eyes and nodded firmly.

“You got them all, Link.” The ghost of the guitarist replied with a slight smile. Yet, he nearly instantly gasped when his friend closed his eye and let the exhaustion overtake him. The Zora moved swiftly and caught him before already laying him gently down to the deck. After that he turned his notion into the Sailor. “Link will be all right. He just needs bit of rest.” He assured with a small smile before getting up to his feet. He took a step backwards and vanished back to the Realm of the Spirits.

The ship’s full crew already surrounded the one eyed male before the Zora even was fully gone. “Guys, he’ll be okay. He just needs rest.” Wind told as firmly as he could. “That water magic belonged to the Zora ghost, Mikau.” He explained and shrugged a bit. “He was there aiding him.”

With things having calmed down, Warriors carefully picked his little brother up and carried him below the deck to sleep more comfortably at a bed. He and Twilight stayed by him to guard his rest while the others started to work around the ship. They were up for finding the closest patch of land to dock at. It felt like they all needed bit of safety of the dry land for a moment after having seen the one eyed male control the wind and ocean like that.

Time woke up into a scent of Wild cooking. He groaned a bit and slowly opened his eye. “Hey there, little brother.” Warriors half whispered while sitting on the floor right next to the bed.

“How long was I out?” The one eyed male queried while sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair before stretching.

“About a day.” The Captain answered as he stood up and sat onto the bed. He leaned backwards to get behind the Chain’s leader before starting to work massaging his brother’s shoulders and back. “Not surprised, though. You hit one hell of a show.”

The Old Man gave a nearly delighted whine at the action and closed his eye while relaxing. “Is everyone all right?” He queried while pretty much melting beneath his older brother’s work.

“Safe and sound.” The war Hero replied calmly. “We’ve docked to an island for a while.” He explained and Time just nodded at the information. “How are you feeling?”

The oldest Link sighed and gave a slight shrug. “Better the longer you work with my stiff muscles.” He replied with a grin. Warriors chuckled and kissed the side of the one eyed male’s head. “And hungry.” The Chain’s leader continued before unwillingly pulling away from the touch. “Can you finish later, please?” He half begged while giving the younger male nearly a pleading look.

“Certainly.” The Captain answered before already following his little brother out of the room and up to the deck. At there, once by the road to the shore, he already grinned. “Check who decided to wake up!” He called to the Chain, Tetra and her crew at the beach of the island.

Time huffed a bit but he couldn’t help but smile and bit chuckle as his boys screamed out his name and already dashed over to him. The war Hero just moved off the way and smiled as the others engulfed their oldest brother into a group hug. Their leader relaxed and smiled while trying to return the hold.

After a while everyone was at the beach enjoying the Champion’s creation. The whole current crew of the ship decided to stay at the island for a while and restock with what the place could offer. It wasn’t much but Wild was happy to gain new food items into his Slate to figure out how to use them.

Just when they were up for continuing sailing, the next portal opened up at the beach. The Chain bid their goodbyes to Tetra and her crew before approaching the vortex. Yet, before they could enter it, Time actually stopped them. He frowned and listened while closing his eye. He felt everyone stare at him but he concentrated into the feeling of where the dark pathway would lead them to.

After a while the Chain’s leader took a deep breath and turned his notion into Legend while letting the air out. “Legend. The Cape.” He simply stated out and the Veteran nodded in understanding. He dug the red fabric out before his leader actually stopped him. “Wait! I… A-actually, I have a better idea.” He partly stammered while pulling out the Stone Mask. “Same effect but no need keeping the magic up.” He told while offering the item to him.

The Specialist nodded while taking the mask and putting it on. The others gasped a bit when he just vanished from sight. “I’ll give it back once we’ve either cleared the problem at my era or left from there.” He promised and the Old Man simply nodded before leading his boys through the portal.

The moment the Links came through the vortex, they found themselves surrounded by heavily armored Knights with their weapons pointed right at them. “Where is the Hero of Legend?” One of the high ranked soldiers asked with commanding voice.

“Not with us.” Time answered as calmly as he could while taking in the situation. Suddenly one of the Knights moved forward from his blind side. He turned toward it before bit gasping as the armored fighter grabbed the front of his armor and yanked him forward. Right after that the rough fist already collided with the side of his face. The Knight let go and his target crashed to his knees with a growl by the strength of the strike.

“TIME!” The Chain screamed out and dashed forward in full worry. The one eyed male shook his head and waved his hand dismissively.

“Wrong answer.” The leader of the Knights stated out while glaring at the Hero of Time. “I’m sure the Queen will get the answers out of you.” He continued before giving a sharp nod towards the road to the castle. The other Knights began to force the Chain of Links forward.

Legend hated it as he took the given chance to escape from middle of his brothers. He knew Time did this kind of things without thinking. Just giving his boys the needed chance to escape or do something needed while he took the brunt of the situation. And in this case it was one simple line and a cruel punch to face. At least it got one of the armored Knights to move out of the line and create the needed gap between their capturers for him to use.

The Chain followed calmly the Knights while being surrounded by them. The Veteran kept bit of distance but he followed the group. He really wanted to just attack and get those people away from his brothers. Yet, that wouldn’t give him the chance to fix this and set the Knights free from the mind control that clearly was going on.

Soon enough they reached the castle and Legend moved closer to the last Knight so he could easily slip inside before the doors would be closed. He wanted to follow his brothers and hear what awaited them but he didn’t. He grit his teeth and tore his gaze away from the Chain of Heroes before starting to sneak around the castle. He was entirely certain he’d find a way to break the mind control magic one way or the other from somewhere within the castle.

While the Weapon Specialist left to handle the needed task, the eight Links were brought into the throne room. The Knights moved off the way to let their leader see their captives. Time knelt down straight off and his brothers followed his action instantaneously. Queen Zelda stood up from her throne while narrowing her gaze at the eight before her.

“Your Highness, forgive me for speaking bluntly but this is a great mistake.” The one eyed male started as calmly as he could. “The Hero of Legend is not with us.”

“I was informed differently, Hero of Time.” Zelda stated out with almost cruel gaze. “We have been waiting for the portal to open for quite a while now.” She told while approaching the group of Heroes. “I waited for honesty from your kind.” She nearly snarled while crouching downwards just to grab Time’s throat.

The Chain’s leader gasped and shot his eye open while being forced up from his position. Yet, nearly instantly after getting up to his feet, he gasped and screamed voicelessly. The Queen let go of him and smirked as he crashed to the ground before already curling up a bit and whining in pain. “Take him. Let’s see if the others are more cooperating while watching him fight for his life.” She commanded and very swiftly several more Knights already moved and came to grab and drag the one eyed male along.

The seven younger males had screamed out their oldest brother’s name but the other Knights had moved swiftly and brought swords and spears to their throats to keep them to their places. They couldn’t do anything else than watch the Old Man get dragged away until they were forced to move too. Zelda led them into different road until eventually reaching a balcony like area.

From there it was a perfect view into lower being round battle arena. In the middle of the sandy area was a sturdy looking pole. People were already gathering around the place to watch the soon to start show. The area had rough magic around them that prevented the Heroes from drawing out any weapon they had with them. It didn’t entirely deny magic from being used but they suspected Zelda to uphold an unseen shield. Yet, more so, they feared for her to have blocked their brother’s magic by the earlier action she had done.

When the amphitheater of sorts had filled with spectators, Time was dragged into middle of the area. He was quite well unceremoniously just dumped onto the sandy floor before one of the Knights shackled his ankle into one of the chains connected into the pole. After that they left the area.

The Chain’s leader was almost gasping for air while trying to ease out the turmoil of his magic. He had his armor and weapons but he could feel the blades, shield and all of his items to be blocked from his usage. Same as his magic that was in full disarray within him. When the door opposite from him opened, he forced himself up to his feet to face whatever was to come forth. He grimaced when the monsters flooded into the round battle arena.

“You may save his life by telling me where the Hero of Legend is.” Queen Zelda told while watching the unfair battle begin. The Hero of Time had no weapons in his usage so all he could do was to try and avoid the attacks. The chain wasn’t giving him much of room to do such while ending his backflips and attempts of backing away from the attacks quite abruptly while giving the beasts a chance to strike at him.

“He’s not with us.”

“He’s dead.”

“He chose to stay at different era.”

“He was captured but the portal opened up beneath us. We weren’t given a chance to save him.”

“He found love and decided to end his own quest at then and there.”

“He ran away and we weren’t able to find him.”

“He ended up changed into a rabbit and we couldn’t turn him back. He didn’t want to follow us in the form he was in.”

The Queen snorted and shook her head. “Very well. Don’t give me the answer, then. Just enjoy of the show. He won’t survive at there.” She stated out almost casually while feeling like the seven were ready to sacrifice the one eyed Link just to keep her from knowing where the era’s Hero was at.

Most of the monsters stayed at back while letting the three bigger beasts handle their opponent’s armor off. The Dark Nut, Iron Knuckle and Moblin were more than eager to land their cruel attacks into the golden armor of the Hero of Time. They especially enjoyed of the turns where the chain snapped to its full length and abruptly crashed the one eyed fighter into the ground. They dragged him close from the chain before landing few rough strikes into the protective material until giving him a chance to try and avoid them again.

When the armor finally was too shattered to be too much of use and Time just forced it off to have more chances to move, the rest of the monsters dashed in. He wasn’t the best one with a fight without weapons but he did his best. From time to time he snatched a weapon from his enemies but he was way too outnumbered and overpowered. Besides, the beasts very much loved to yank on the chain and knock him off his feet to make it all worse for him. With such rough movement they eventually dislocated his knee and broke his hip. That only made things even worse for him.

Just when the Chain’s leader was certain he wouldn’t survive from the battle arena, the area suddenly flashed brightly. He gasped in shock and shut his eye while, for his relief, the beasts hissed and staggered a step backwards. It gave a moment of peace and the realization of something having changed. Yet, he didn’t need to try and fight in the condition he was in.

As Time opened his eye, he saw four surprisingly solid looking ghosts around him. They gave out raged screams before attacking the monsters with Fierce taking on the Dark Nut, Iron Knuckle and Moblin. Dextri fought against Miniblins while engulfing some bigger monsters into bubbles every now and then. Mikau faced the Bokoblins while Darmani III beat the Lizalfos. The four stayed close to him to make sure none of the creations of Darkness would get past them and to attack him again.

Suddenly the Knights that had imprisoned the Old Man and his boys dashed into the area and attacked the monsters from behind. The beasts were left between two lines of fighters which meant they’d be taken down soon. “Dextri. Fierce. I need my boys informed that they should go and help Legend. I’ll be fine.” He stated out and the duo nodded.

The Deity and the Deku Butler’s Son checked the road to the high being balcony where the Chain of seven Heroes were with the era’s Queen. The Links were more than willing to go aid their leader but they were held back. Fierce nodded and he and Dextri changed places. The small Deku took bit of distance before already running towards the God of Protection.

Fierce struck his sword into the ground and when Dextri jumped onto the blade, he swung it as hard as he could upwards in vertical move. The Deku took the speed and jumped high into the air. He let the swing’s power throw him towards the balcony until at the peak of his ascent, he finally brought the swirling flowers to move further forward. He grinned a bit at the startled looks on the people at his destination. Eventually he let go of the flowers and easily dropped into the railing of the place.

“Link wishes you seven to head to Legend. Find him and help him to deal with the main enemy. Link is safe now.” Dextri told out as firmly as he could. “There’s enough of fighters to clear the monsters. You seven would only prolong the needed actions.” He continued while seeing the hesitation within his friend’s teammates.

“Give him this, at least. Please?” Four requested while taking out a bottle with a fairy within it.

“I have one fairy too.” Wild assured while swiftly checking his Slate to be certain.

“Thank you.” The small Deku nodded while accepting the bottle. “Now, go!” He half commanded before pocketing the item and turning back towards the way he had come from. Without waiting for longer, he jumped and brought out the flowers to get closer to the battle. I took couple of works with the swirling flowers before he landed and attacked the monsters.

“Your boys will do as said. They also sent this to you.” The Deku Butler’s Son told while taking the bottled fairy out. By then one of the Knights had gotten through and unlocked the shackle at Time’s ankle as well as set his bones to right places. The one eyed male nodded while feeling tad uncertain of the situation. “Wild has a fairy along too. They’ll be fine.” Dextri assured before setting the small healer free.

While the Chain’s leader was in safer situation, the seven finally tore their gaze out of the arena and dashed off to find Legend. It took bit of searching but they eventually found the right floor and correct room. The moment they saw the dragonic Lizalfos, they attacked on full force. Hyrule, though, pulled off to check on his predecessor as he had pulled the mask off when the Links dashed in. He luckily was well as he had been capable of staying out of sight and attack with all he got. With Sky having the full powered sacred blade of Evil’s Bane, the beast went down swiftly and easily.

The moment the enemy was dealt with, the Chain dashed out of the room. Only two floors lower they saw Time coming towards them. The one eyed male was still looking bit beaten up but he was as well as he could be after the hell he had gone through at the arena. The eight Heroes dashed to him and engulfed him into a group hug. Before he had a chance to say against it, the Traveler already worked with his magic to fix the rest of the damage.

Sadly, the nine Heroes didn’t have more time than to rest one night before the next portal opened up. The Smithy had along what was left of his oldest brother’s armor while hoping they’d find a town and a forge he could use. Yet, on that second he already had a feeling he was the next one to be saved. And once they got through the dark pathway, he already turned his gaze into the Old Man whom just simply gave a firm nod of confirmation.

The Chain of Links didn’t find a town but they found an abandoned house with a forge. They took the place for their usage for the time being as the shortest Hero set the blacksmith’s place into usage. Wild gave the needed ores while Hyrule, Legend, Wind and Warriors aided in getting everything done.

Fixing and recreating the armor took several days. Most of the Chain had gone to do some foraging and fishing at the close by river while the Smithy was up for doing finishing touches into the armor. It still was delicate work and taking quite well the youngster’s full notion. That was the reason he didn’t hear the Moblin arriving. He just simply noticed Time pushing himself off of the wall and locking his gaze into something. “Just keep working, Mousekin. I got this.” He told calmly while picking the Biggoron Sword from next to him before already heading to face the brown Moblin of his own era.

Unlike what the one eyed male had seen, it wasn’t just one Moblin. It was one from each of the eras the Heroes came from. Six beasts did their best in trying to get past the oldest Link but the sword he wielded was deadly and fast in his hands. His own era’s Moblin went down by two strikes while Wild’s was defeated by one that cut it into two.

While the rest took one to two strikes to kill Sky’s era’s Moblin needed three. It wasn’t because of the shield but due to the black blood running in its veins. It avoided more and tried to round its target but the Old Man stood in front of it and blocked its road whole time… Until the beast got close enough and he struck.

Once the last one of the different Moblins had vanished, Time sighed in relief and calmed down. He moved back into the forge’s area and sat down to unused anvil before starting to clean the blade. “How’s the armor coming?” He inquired as calmly as he could while having felt Four’s gaze in his back nearly whole time the battle had been going.

The Smithy almost gasped and jerked before already blinking several times. “Um…. A-almost finished…” He stammered while tad blushing and turning his notion back into his work. “You know… I’ve seen you do lot of badass things but this… This really takes the win.” He confessed while turning his gaze into his oldest brother.

The Chain’s leader chuckled a bit while blushing slightly and shrugging. He kept his notion in his sword in hopes of keeping the younger male from seeing the reaction. He rarely got this kind of praise so it meant even more when it came from his boys. “It’s nothing really. Just strength and unbreakable sword.” He explained as casually as he could.

“And skill.” Four pointed out firmly. “Anyone can have strength and a weapon but you gotta have the knowledge of how to fight efficiently and use the weapon to its full potential. You struck at three Moblins by one strike while killing one of them by it. Before the rest came forth, you had already taken down the earlier two. Just swift, certain and badass.”

Time chuckled bit nervously and scratched the back of his head. “Thanks… I guess…?” He half replied before getting tad surprised as the shortest Hero came next to him.

“May I?” The Smithy inquired and pointed at the Biggoron Sword with hopeful look on his face.

“You sure? It’s my blade. It’s my responsibility.” The one eyed male replied while feeling bit contradicted about the situation. Yet, Four simply nodded as an answer. “O-okay…” He bit stammered and let the Hero with the ability of turning into a Minish to look after his weapon and clean it precisely. He just watched while admiring the dedication and love one of his boys was putting into his actions.

It took a while before the Smithy was content with his work. After that he offered the sword back to his oldest brother. “Good as new.” He told with a smile while watching his leader admire the fully clean and sharp blade.

“Thank you. I owe you hugely for fixing my armor and looking after my sword.” Time replied while crouching down and pulling Four into a hug.

The shortest Hero happily returned the hold. “It’s the least I can do. You protected me here and you’ve kept everyone safe and sound all the way through this quest. I want to return the favor in every possible way I’m capable of.”

“You certainly are.” The oldest Link whispered before pulling off. The others started to return to the area and the moment they saw the blood and signs of a battle, they already were asking questions. Time just winked at Four and went to explain the situation to his boys.

At the next day the Chain’s leader put the fixed and recreated armor on. They were up for heading forward from the house with a forge in the back. In fact, they didn’t go far before they already found a portal. The one eyed male checked that everyone was ready before he led them through the dark pathway into a new era.

When the portal closed behind him, Time only found Hyrule being there. He held back the annoyed sigh of having been separated from the rest of the group and just closed his eye to concentrate. Just when he caught the feeling of the others and relaxed a bit of finding them all being together, the air was split by a scream. Both he and the Traveler jerked roughly at the sound before he already stopped the half-fairy from dashing towards his kin in need of aid.

“NO.” The one eyed male growled out but he wasn’t angry at his boy, just worried and freaked out. “Do NOT change forms, Traveler.” He commanded while gritting his teeth at the situation.

“But…!” Hyrule started before bit flinching as his oldest brother glanced at him. He nodded even though he felt entirely uncertain of the situation.

“Go that way.” The Old Man gave a sharp nod to their left. “Don’t change for any of reason. Just get to the others and lead them here.” He commanded before already pushing the youngster to correct way. “I’ll do what I can for the fairies.” He told before already dashing towards the way where the pain filled screams were coming from.

Hyrule hesitated for a moment longer before he growled and dashed to the road he had been commanded to. It shattered his heart as he heard the screams while being unable to save his sisters and brothers. Yet, clearly, that situation had caused his death and Time was up for saving him. So, he ran and prayed he could get to his brothers in time to bring them over to save the Chain’s leader too.

The moment the one eyed male reached the place where the fairies were being held captive and tortured, he already screamed as he drew out the Biggoron Sword and swung it. The men at the area in middle of the forest were startled of his sudden appearance. That short moment was enough for him to kill one of the guys by one strike before turning towards the rest of the group.

The men scrambled to their feet and just barely avoided the deadly weapon. They quickly surrounded the newcomer before one already blew red dust into their attacker’s face. The swordsman gasped and staggered a step away. He was ready to strike again when suddenly he gasped in pain and fell to his knees.

“Well, well, didn’t wait for fairies to be in Hylian form too.” The one in lead, smirked while putting the pouch of Dark Magic Powder away. He smirked while his newest victim tried to get the dust off of his face. “You already inhaled it.” He stated out before kicking Time to the side of his head and crashed him into the ground.

“Take his armor off. Let’s see how much of a fairy he is.” The guy commanded while enjoying of seeing the man writhe in pain. The Chain’s leader’s attempts of fighting back were fully in vain and weak. The men around him easily held him to the ground as they undid his armor.

The leader of the small group drew out a knife and struck it into the Old Man’s shoulder. Even though Time had very high pain tolerance, he screamed in agony. It wasn’t because of the strike or breaking his bones by that one hit. It was because of the dust having put his fairy magic within him into chaos. The blade wasn’t normal. It was invading by the way of searching for anything fairy related. And right now it was latching itself into his magic.

The turmoil of his magic that had replaced his innate one wasn’t in such a way it would’ve made the oldest Hero sick. It was rather trying to tear a road out of him and get freed. The blade felt like it was going to steal them and he screamed as the weapon was being twisted and turned in the wound.

“No blood connection but the magic’s not his.” The guy mused wickedly while chuckling at the agony he was causing. “How about we take what doesn’t even belong to you.” He rather stated out than queried while rather twirling the knife instead of twisting and moving.

Time screamed while hating how paralyzed that dust had left him. The agony of his own magic trying to tear him apart from inside was bad enough. Feeling the guy binding something that was so connected into him into that blade was nearly excruciating. The terror of losing his magic was only the cherry on the top of the whole hell.

Slowly, as the weapon captured the magics the Chain’s leader had learned, his screams turned into miserable whimper. He was trembling and crying while knowing his begging would only make the trio around him laugh. He closed his eye and just accepted his defeat. He knew it would take long while before he’d get used to the lack of magic to use and his body temperature turned to be probably lower than anyone else’s. After all, ever since he had been to Termina, he had unconsciously held little bit of Din’s Fire up and going to keep himself warm.

Suddenly the one eyed male half gasped, half screamed as the blade jerked in the wound but it wasn’t pulled out. The sound of scuffle got him to gasp and snap his eye open. It took a moment from him to realize that his boys had arrived just in time to there.

Wolfie was mauling the one whom had used the knife. Sky and Warriors had attacked the man on Time’s right side. Hyrule, Four and Wind were dealing with the third man. Wild was setting the fairies free from the bottles and chains. Legend had crouched down next to him while hesitating to touch the knife.

“D-don’t…” Time whimpered out and snapped the Veteran’s notion into him. “M-my m-magic…” He stammered while having no idea of how to fix the situation. He unintentionally flinched when the Specialist brushed some of the dust off of his face.

Legend growled as he felt the foul magic within those tiny specks of powder. “I gotta clean that stuff off of you, Old Man. Not anything of fun but I have a feeling I know what to do.” He explained while taking out a rag and his waterskin.

The Chain’s leader closed his eye and tried to hold back the whimpering as his boy gently wiped the Dark Magic Powder off of him. He even cleaned the hair and clothes before giving a check on the armor. Yet, surprisingly, the stuff hadn’t gotten into there. Once done, he burned the cloth just to make sure the stuff wouldn’t be left lingering into anywhere.

The Chain slowly gathered around their oldest brother and the Veteran pretty much commanded them not to touch the knife. After that he took out his own Magic Powder out while wishing he was right. “Just breathe, Time.” He half commanded before blowing a handful of the dust at him.

The oldest Link coughed few times before sighing and relaxing as he closed his eye. “Help the others, please.” He pretty much begged while feeing his magic unwind from the knife and return where it belonged to. The hellish chaos that had been ranging within him had calmed down.

“Don’t take the knife off until Time says it’s okay to be removed.” Legend commanded before getting up and going over to where the tortured fairies were at. Wild looked almost fearfully at his brother while feeling so useless. The small beings on the flat rock were whimpering and trembling in pain. Some had destroyed wings while others’ wings were torn off of their backs. There were bleeding wounds and broken bones. And yet, the worst was, the effects of the Dark Magic Powder that had destroyed their magic and vanquished the glow from them.

The Weapon Specialist felt like his brothers hadn’t made the torturers suffer enough for what they had done. He crouched down in front of the fairies and brought out the Magic Powder pouch and drew out a handful of it. After that he blew the dust at the small beings while hoping for the best.

Both the Champion and the Veteran sighed in relief when the fairies, even though in bad shape still, regained their glow and magic. It wouldn’t heal them but at least it gave them what had been stolen from them. “We need to find a way to heal them.” The cook of the Chain whispered and Legend only nodded.

“There’s a well hidden Great Fairy Fountain close by.” Hyrule suddenly told while coming over to the duo. He glanced worriedly behind him at the Chain’s leader. Even though the knife was off and the wound healed, he was still weak after what had happened with his magic. “The Great Fairy is able to heal her little sisters and brothers.” He explained while trying not to sound so sorrowful.

The Chain came over and each of them took several of the fairies gently into their hands and shoulders to carry them. None of them felt like trapping any of the small healers into bottles. Such had already been used against them as it certainly had been the easiest way to strike that foul dust into them.

The Great Fairy appeared nearly instantly after the nine Heroes had arrived to her fountain. The small fairies were gently placed onto the railing of the water area. From there the small beings slipped into the water to swim and dive. The Great Fairy smiled sorrowfully at her small siblings before turning her notion into the Hero of Time.

“I’ll be all right. I just need bit of time. Bit of rest will do wonders.” The Chain’s leader half whispered before bit wincing at the pain of using the Fairy Language. He ignored the worried and concerned looks his boys were giving him while trying to regain his strength back.

“Maybe so but I’m here now and I want to help like you were up for protecting my kin, brother not bound by blood.” The Great Fairy replied and crouched down. After that she very gently reached out and placed her hand against the oldest Link’s chest. She closed her eyes and, even though the stab wound and shattered bones had already been fixed, she made sure it was safe and sound while easing out the last remnants of the chaos within the one eyed male’s magic.

Time sighed in relief and relaxed while feeling the calmness return into the midst of his magic. It also brought back his strength and stamina. With a grateful smile, he pulled off from leaning against Warriors and stood steadily on his own feet. He bowed his head while half whispering his thanks.

“You are very welcome.” The Great Fairy replied with a fond smile and a nod while standing back up. “You may stay here and rest. The forest will provide all you need.” She told while wishing more than anything to show her own gratitude and do something in return for the nine that had saved her kin.

The Chain of nine Heroes stayed for few days. With each meal Wild did, he made food for the fairies too. He brought the dishes in fairy size to the fountain and placed the plates and bowls at the railing. Even though the fairies were doing much better, they all were delighted of the offered food. The small beings were sorrowful when the next portal opened up and sent the Links forward in their quest. After all, that snatched their unique meal maker away.

The swirly pathway brought the Chain right into Time’s own era and they straight off made their way towards the Lon-Lon Ranch. Bigger part of the one eyed male was happy of being back home but the other part feared for his family. This was where he had seen Twilight and Malon die. He had already saved everyone else, there was NO chance he’d fail this.

Like many times before, the one eyed male kept the ones in danger out of the loop while asking the rest to keep full check of the area in search of archers. Yet, he did one simple mistake as he was securing his wife’s and blood relative’s lives. He entirely forgot to have seen his own death too.

When the request for help came, it wasn’t from the Princess but from some random person somewhere from Hyrule. It didn’t seem too hard and the Old Man was certain of it being swiftly done. Yet, bigger part was that he knew this was the initiation for the situation he desperately needed to change. Before he left the house with the armor on and the weapons along, he reminded his brothers about the somewhere lurking archers. Most of the Chain scattered to search for the danger while he put himself as the target and beginning of the situation.

“Good morning, Link!” Malon greeted before gasping and turning her notion into the sound of scuffle. Yet, nearly instantly afterwards she already snapped her notion into her husband. There had been a screech of metal on metal. She screamed as she saw her Link crash to the ground back first.

Dark Link growled when he realized that the situation had changed. The archers had been taken down before they’d get a chance to shoot the two of the closest family members of his worst enemy. He moved swiftly and performed the move his Light Counterpart knew: The Back Slash. He smirked as the currently unbreakable darker version of the Master Sword cut through the back of Time’s armor and deep into his flesh.

The dark reflection of the one eyed male snatched a hold of his opponent’s shoulder and yanked him roughly into the ground. He quickly came over him while smirking as that sole eye snapped open and the terror struck as the bloodied blade was seen. “You fucked up.” He snarled while striking the blade downwards.

Yet, before Dark Link could actually kill the Link whose dark side he was, a gigantic wolf attacked. He didn’t have any other choice than to pull off and backflip away from his target. The beast snarled and attacked again. The shadowy figure of the canine’s mentor growled as he avoided again until hightailing out of there. He created a portal as swiftly as he could and dashing through it before already shutting it. The predator skidded into a stop at where the dark corridor had just been. Yet, nearly instantly after, he already turned around and dashed back to the spot where the others were already gathering to.

Time was growling in pain as the Chain worked to get his weapons, armor and tunics off to reach the wound. “Oh that’s not good. Not at all. Shit… It’s bleeding way too much…” He wasn’t certain whom said that as he was fighting to stay conscious.

“Even if we’d stitch it, it would still bleed through the bandages. We gotta fix the wound somehow!”

“We’re not having potions! No-one realized to leave the ranch to go restock!”

“Yeah, well, Time denied that!”

“What?! Why?!”

“To save you and Malon.”

*a loud gasp of shock*

The Chain’s leader was certain the arguments and work on his back continued but he couldn’t hear or feel it anymore. The darkness had fallen all around him while just feeling grateful that he had managed with his work. His boys and wife were safe. It was what he had worked so hard to achieve for the past portals and eras. He partly felt like this just was the price he needed to pay to keep his family safe and sound.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Time frowned as he found himself from the top of the Death Mountain. It was early morning and the Cucco had just made its call. He had a feeling he had been in this situation before.

“You will see him again.”

The spoken words snapped the one eyed male’s notion into the scene not far from him. He gasped a bit as he saw the younger version of himself and the ghost of Fierce Deity. “Those words were yours back then.” He half whispered without really knowing how to feel.

The God of Protection was tad startled and he turned around to face his friend’s older version. “They are.” He replied while standing up from the crouched position. He glanced after the young Hero before returning his notion into the boy’s future self. “You should not be here.”

“I’m rarely where I should be.” Time answered bit sorrowfully and nodded after his child version. “You should go. You can’t be far from your mask.” He reminded while sitting down to watch the rising sun.

“I cannot leave you here.” Fierce answered and offered his hand to the one eyed male. “Come. You will not find the answers you seek from here.” He told firmly before snatching a hold of his friend’s arm and just yanking him up.

The Chain’s leader gasped a bit at the action as he had had full decision of staying put. He scowled at the Deity but let the divine being drag him along. “Where are we going?” He inquired as they followed the child whom had to climb down while the two of them just walked without fear of falling or slipping.

“To where you need to be at.” The Deity simply answered with a grin. He chuckled as his friend rolled his eye at the given answer.

When they reached the base of the volcano, Time gasped as there was a sudden change in the area and time. He gasped when Fierce gave him rough push and forced him forward. He shot a glare at the Deity’s way before a call of his name caught his notion and he turned his gaze into where the God of Protection had brought him.

“Time?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The Chain was freaking out. Everything they tried was for nothing. Even the fairy Malon and Hyrule had found couldn’t change the situation.

“I can’t fix it!”

“The fairy’s powerless too!”

“We’re losing him!”

“NO! We CAN’T lose him!”

“Link, fight!”

“Stay with us, Time! Please!”

“Sprite! Don’t do this time!”

Wind heard the quiet gasp and turned his gaze to his right. “Time?” He called while frowning as he saw the Chain’s leader standing there all see-through. He shakily stood up and moved away from his brothers. “Time, please. Don’t leave us.” He begged with wavering voice and tears in his eyes.

The eight others glanced at him before gasping in shock. “Sprite?” Warriors called tentatively while unwillingly getting up and moving closer to the ghost.

The one eyed male slumped and grimaced at the situation. “Damn you, Fierce. I’ll get you back for this…” He grumbled quietly while having not wanted to see this scene.

The Old Man could hear the Deity laugh and grin. “I would love to see you try.” The words echoed in his head and he scowled at the given reply. Yet, very soon he turned his notion into the nine persons that made his family. Most of them were begging him to not leave them.

“Guys!” Legend eventually snapped and shot a slight glare at the people around him. He sighed heavily while slumping and letting his ears droop. He raised his tear-filled gaze into his leader. “Do what you see right, Time. That’s what you’ve always done. Whatever your choice is, we’ll accept it.”

Malon and the seven Heroes were shocked of the Veteran’s words. Yet, they very soon slumped and nodded. “I love you, Sprite. But, if this is as far as you say your life goes, then… J-just….” Warriors started before already biting down to his lower lip while breaking down. “I’ll be missing you, little brother. I’d rather have you with me longer but… Your choice, Sprite. I’ll honor whatever you choose.” He told with shattered voice.

The others nodded while feeling like this was goodbyes. Twilight desperately wanted to say that this wasn’t the way he’d lose his mentor but he stayed silent. They had gone through so many eras and timelines that maybe this really was where the end came. At least for this version.

“The right thing…” Time half whispered while looking around his shattered family. The nine before him nodded while crying and having bowed their heads in sorrow. Suddenly the words from the one of the Moon Children snapped right into his mind.

“The right thing… What is it? I wonder… If you do the right thing… Does it really make… everybody… happy?”

The one eyed male nearly jerked as the words sank in. He looked around the nine that he loved from full heart and more. He smiled as he knew perfectly well what he needed to do.

The Chain’s leader moved in front of Hyrule. “My little friend and my dear boy, be ready for I will need the help from both of you very soon.” He told in Fairy Language as he noticed the small pink fairy in his boy’s hair. The duo gasped a bit and snapped their gaze open and into him. “Sshh, eyes closed.” He half requested with a small fond smile and the duo nodded while doing as requested.

Time moved forward and bit grimaced as he saw his own body. He really didn’t like the amount of blood in the ground around himself. Yet, he took a deep breath, moved closer and closed his eye. After that he let himself fall right back into his body.

The Chain and Malon gasped in shock when they heard the sharp inhale that was followed by pain filled growl. The ghost of their loved one was gone and Time was trembling on the rough ground. “TIME!” The screams cut through the air before they all already surrounded him.

The healing fairy swiftly started her work while the Traveler initiated his own magic. He turned some of the healer’s work into blood to compensate the lost amount of it. Other than that he strengthened the work with his own healing magic to do more of fixing in the damage Dark Link had caused. “Don’t overdo yourself, Pixie…” The one eyed male’s quiet request startled the half-fairy but before he could reply, Legend already gave him one of the green potions.

“Nothing to worry, Time. I know what I’m doing.” Hyrule answered firmly while taking the drink and continuing the work. He knew he couldn’t fix it fully but at least he could save his leader’s life. Once he pulled off, Warriors took his place and started to stitch the wound close. After him came Malon and Twilight to bandage the damaged area.

Time was in lot of pain and exhausted but he knew he was going to be all right. He reached out to Legend and grabbed his hand. “Thank you.” He half whispered with a small smile before drifting off into a calm sleep.

The nine members of the Chain’s leader’s family didn’t dare to move him. Instead, they brought out the bedroll and carefully got him onto it. After that they covered him with Warriors’ scarf, Sky’s Sailcloth and a blanket. Only after that, few at a time, they pretty much went to clean up until coming back to keep eye on their beloved member of their family.

When Time finally woke up, they didn’t dare to let him move much in fear of him opening the wound. He accepted the restriction and took the red potion after a meal created by Wild. The Chain and Malon had done bit of restocking now that the worst danger was over.

It took several days before the one eyed male was moving around. The fairy, Hyrule and the potion had done lot but there still was healing to be done. Nonetheless, things were looking very good and the residents of the Lon-Lon Ranch had significantly calmed down and relaxed the more he healed and regained the usage of his body.

“So, Sprite, tell me…” Warriors started at one evening while trying to keep his seriousness off of his tone. “How come you left yourself from the list of people to be saved?”

The war Hero’s little brother sighed and shrugged a bit. “I forgot.” He admitted and raised an eyebrow at the baffled look his family was giving. “What? I kept going from one hellish prophetic dream into another.” He explained as calmly as he could.

“And you just decided to jump over the fact that Dark Link killed you?” The Captain queried while not really believing the older male’s claim.

Time sighed almost exaggerated and ran his hand through his hair. “It was hellish enough to watch the deaths happen.” He replied bit defensively before slightly frowning. “Yet… I wasn’t aware how I ended up struck down. I just…” He shook his head and glanced at Malon and Twilight. “On one moment everyone’s alive and in the next I’m laying on the ground with Malon and Twilight dead. I wasn’t given the knowledge of what happened between.”

“So… You really didn’t know….” Warriors half whispered sorrowfully.

“I only knew that Dark Link killed me but I didn’t know how I ended up into the situation I was in.” Time admitted and shrugged a bit. “There were few other prophetic dreams too that left lot untold. Some bits and pieces I got when we entered the right area. Some I just had to trust to be plausible of changing once it would be on. On the others I was able to do some preparations for the change.” He explained as well as he could.

“I’m just glad you’re still with us, little brother.” The strategist of the Chain told and moved next to the Chain’s leader before pulling him into an embrace. The others took that as an invitation and soon he found himself from middle of a group hug.

“So am I.” Time whispered quietly while relaxing and enjoying of the moment. His back still hurt but it was healing well. He hated to admit it but it was a good reminder. And as long as he could make the choice, he would always stay right by his family. After all, that was exactly the right thing to do.

[whencyclopedia]

Eastman's Biography of Red Cloud

Eastman's biography of Red Cloud (l. 1822-1909) is the first narrative of his Indian Heroes and Great Chieftains (1916), and it sets the tone for those that follow, including the pieces on Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse, in explaining the motivation of the Plains Indians in their response to the US government's genocidal policies of expansion.

The piece is of particular interest historically because the Sioux physician and author, Charles A. Eastman (also known as Ohiyesa, l. 1858-1939), was able to interview the warrior and statesman Red Cloud in person, as he was unable to do with many others, such as Crazy Horse, and was also able to receive the story in Red Cloud's native language, unlike the narrative Black Elk Speaks (1932), which was given by the Lakota Sioux medicine man Black Elk (l. 1863-1950) to the American poet and writer John G. Neihardt (l. 1881-1973) through an interpreter. Eastman then translated Red Cloud's account into English for his book. The result is a firsthand account of the life of one of the greatest Sioux chiefs of the 19th century.

Text

The following text has been abridged for space considerations, but the online version of Eastman's book will be found below in the External Links section. The version presented here is taken from Indian Heroes and Great Chieftains, 1939 edition, republished in 2016:

…Red Cloud was born about 1820 near the forks of the Platte River. He was one of a family of nine children whose father, an able and respected warrior, reared his son under the old Spartan regime. The young Red Cloud is said to have been a fine horseman, able to swim across the Missouri and Yellowstone rivers, of high bearing and unquestionable courage, yet invariably gentle and courteous in everyday life. This last trait, together with a singularly musical and agreeable voice, has always been characteristic of the man…

…The future leader was still a very young man when he joined a war party against the Utes. Having pushed eagerly forward on the trail, he found himself far in advance of his companions as night came on, and at the same time rain began to fall heavily. Among the scattered scrub pines, the lone warrior found a natural cave, and after a hasty examination, he decided to shelter there for the night.

Scarcely had he rolled himself in his blanket when he heard a slight rustling at the entrance, as if some creature were preparing to share his retreat. It was pitch dark. He could see nothing, but judged that it must be either a man or a grizzly. There was not room to draw a bow. It must be between knife and knife, or between knife and claws, he said to himself.

The intruder made no search but quietly lay down in the opposite corner of the cave. Red Cloud remained perfectly still, scarcely breathing, his hand upon his knife. Hour after hour he lay broad awake, while many thoughts passed through his brain. Suddenly, without warning, he sneezed, and instantly a strong man sprang to a sitting posture opposite. The first gray of morning was creeping into their rocky den and – behold! – a Ute hunter sat before him.

Desperate as the situation appeared, it was not without a grim humor. Neither could afford to take his eyes from the other's; the tension was great, till at last a smile wavered over the expressionless face of the Ute. Red Cloud answered the smile, and in that instant a treaty of peace was born between them.

"Put your knife in its sheath. I shall do so also, and we will smoke together," signed Red Cloud. The other assented gladly, and they ratified thus the truce which assured to each a safe return to his friends. Having finished their smoke, they shook hands and separated. Neither had given the other any information. Red Cloud returned to his party and told his story, adding that he had divulged nothing and had nothing to report. Some were inclined to censure him for not fighting, but he was sustained by a majority of the warriors, who commended his self-restraint. In a day or two they discovered the main camp of the enemy and fought a remarkable battle, in which Red Cloud especially distinguished himself

The Sioux were now entering upon the most stormy period of their history. The old things were fast giving place to new. The young men, for the first time engaging in serious and destructive warfare with the neighboring tribes, armed with the deadly weapons furnished by the white man, began to realize that they must soon enter upon a desperate struggle for their ancestral hunting grounds. The old men had been innocently cultivating the friendship of the stranger, saying among themselves, "Surely there is land enough for all!"

Red Cloud was a modest and little-known man of about twenty-eight years, when General Harney called all the western bands of Sioux together at Fort Laramie, Wyoming, for the purpose of securing an agreement and right of way through their territory. The Ogallala held aloof from this proposal, but Bear Bull, an Ogallala chief, after having been plied with whisky, undertook to dictate submission to the rest of the clan. Enraged by failure, he fired upon a group of his own tribesmen, and Red Cloud's father and brother fell dead. According to Indian custom, it fell to him to avenge the deed. Calmly, without uttering a word, he faced old Bear Bull and his son, who attempted to defend his father, and shot them both. He did what he believed to be his duty, and the whole band sustained him. Indeed, the tragedy gave the young man at once a certain standing, as one who not only defended his people against enemies from without, but against injustice and aggression within the tribe. From this time on he was a recognized leader.

Man-Afraid-of-His-Horses, then head chief of the Ogallala, took council with Red Cloud in all important matters, and the young warrior rapidly advanced in authority and influence. In 1854, when he was barely thirty-five years old, the various bands were again encamped near Fort Laramie. A Mormon emigrant train, moving westward, left a footsore cow behind, and the young men killed her for food. The next day, to their astonishment, an officer with thirty men appeared at the Indian camp and demanded of old Conquering Bear that they be given up. The chief in vain protested that it was all a mistake and offered to make reparation. It would seem that either the officer was under the influence of liquor, or else had a mind to bully the Indians, for he would accept neither explanation nor payment, but demanded point-blank that the young men who had killed the cow be delivered up to summary punishment. The old chief refused to be intimidated and was shot dead on the spot. Not one soldier ever reached the gate of Fort Laramie! Here Red Cloud led the young Ogallala, and so intense was the feeling that they even killed the half-breed interpreter.

Curiously enough, there was no attempt at retaliation on the part of the army, and no serious break until 1860, when the Sioux were involved in troubles with the Cheyennes and Arapahoe. In 1862, a grave outbreak was precipitated by the eastern Sioux in Minnesota under Little Crow, in which the western bands took no part. Yet this event ushered in a new period for their race. The surveyors of the Union Pacific were laying out the proposed road through the heart of the southern buffalo country, the rendezvous of Ogallala, Brule, Arapahoe, Comanche, and Pawnee, who followed the buffalo as a means of livelihood. To be sure, most of these tribes were at war with one another, yet during the summer months they met often to proclaim a truce and hold joint councils and festivities, which were now largely turned into discussions of the common enemy. It became evident, however, that some of the smaller and weaker tribes were inclined to welcome the new order of things, recognizing that it was the policy of the government to put an end to tribal warfare.

Red Cloud's position was uncompromisingly against submission. He made some noted speeches in this line, one of which was repeated to me by an old man who had heard and remembered it with the remarkable verbal memory of an Indian.

"Friends," said Red Cloud, "it has been our misfortune to welcome the white man. We have been deceived. He brought with him some shining things that pleased our eyes; he brought weapons more effective than our own: above all, he brought the spirit water that makes one forget for a time old age, weakness, and sorrow. But I wish to say to you that if you would possess these things for yourselves, you must begin anew and put away the wisdom of your fathers. You must lay up food, and forget the hungry. When your house is built, your storeroom filled, then look around for a neighbor whom you can take at a disadvantage and seize all that he has! Give away only what you do not want; or rather, do not part with any of your possessions unless in exchange for another's.

"My countrymen, shall the glittering trinkets of this rich man, his deceitful drink that overcomes the mind, shall these things tempt us to give up our homes, our hunting grounds, and the honorable teaching of our old men? Shall we permit ourselves to be driven to and fro—to be herded like the cattle of the white man?"

His next speech that has been remembered was made in 1866, just before the attack on Fort Phil Kearny. The tension of feeling against the invaders had now reached its height. There was no dissenting voice in the council upon the Powder River when it was decided to oppose to the uttermost the evident purpose of the government. Red Cloud was not altogether ignorant of the numerical strength and the resourcefulness of the white man, but he was determined to face any odds rather than submit.

"Hear ye, Dakotas!" he exclaimed. "When the Great Father at Washington sent us his chief soldier to ask for a path through our hunting grounds, a way for his iron road to the mountains and the western sea, we were told that they wished merely to pass through our country, not to tarry among us, but to seek for gold in the far west. Our old chiefs thought to show their friendship and good will, when they allowed this dangerous snake in our midst. They promised to protect the wayfarers.

"Yet before the ashes of the council fire are cold, the Great Father is building his forts among us. You have heard the sound of the white soldier's ax upon the Little Piney. His presence here is an insult and a threat. It is an insult to the spirits of our ancestors. Are we then to give up their sacred graves to be plowed for corn? Dakotas, I am for war!"

In less than a week after this speech, the Sioux advanced upon Fort Phil Kearny, the new sentinel that had just taken her place upon the farthest frontier, guarding the Oregon Trail. Every detail of the attack had been planned with care, though not without heated discussion, and nearly every well-known Sioux chief had agreed in striking the blow. The brilliant young war leader, Crazy Horse, was appointed to lead the charge. His lieutenants were Sword, Hump, and Dull Knife, with Little Chief of the Cheyennes, while the older men acted as councilors. Their success was instantaneous. In less than half an hour, they had cut down nearly a hundred men under Captain Fetterman, whom they drew out of the fort by a ruse and then annihilated.

Instead of sending troops to punish, the government sent a commission to treat with the Sioux. The result was the famous treaty of 1868, which Red Cloud was the last to sign, having refused to do so until all of the forts within their territory should be vacated. All of his demands were acceded to, the new road abandoned, the garrisons withdrawn, and in the new treaty it was distinctly stated that the Black Hills and the Big Horn were Indian country, set apart for their perpetual occupancy, and that no white man should enter that region without the consent of the Sioux.

Scarcely was this treaty signed, however, when gold was discovered in the Black Hills, and the popular cry was: "Remove the Indians!" This was easier said than done. That very territory had just been solemnly guaranteed to them forever: yet how stem the irresistible rush for gold? The government, at first, entered some small protest, just enough to "save its face" as the saying is; but there was no serious attempt to prevent the wholesale violation of the treaty. It was this state of affairs that led to the last great speech made by Red Cloud, at a gathering upon the Little Rosebud River. It is brief, and touches upon the hopelessness of their future as a race. He seems at about this time to have reached the conclusion that resistance could not last much longer; in fact, the greater part of the Sioux nation was already under government control.

"We are told," said he, "that Spotted Tail has consented to be the Beggars' Chief. Those Indians who go over to the white man can be nothing but beggars, for he respects only riches, and how can an Indian be a rich man? He cannot without ceasing to be an Indian. As for me, I have listened patiently to the promises of the Great Father, but his memory is short. I am now done with him. This is all I have to say."

The wilder bands separated soon after this council, to follow the drift of the buffalo, some in the vicinity of the Black Hills and others in the Big Horn region. Small war parties came down from time to time upon stray travelers, who received no mercy at their hands, or made dashes upon neighboring forts. Red Cloud claimed the right to guard and hold by force, if need be, all this territory which had been conceded to his people by the treaty of 1868. The land became a very nest of outlawry. Aside from organized parties of prospectors, there were bands of white horse thieves and desperadoes who took advantage of the situation to plunder immigrants and Indians alike.

An attempt was made by means of military camps to establish control and force all the Indians upon reservations, and another commission was sent to negotiate their removal to Indian Territory, but met with an absolute refusal. After much guerrilla warfare, an important military campaign against the Sioux was set on foot in 1876, ending in Custer's signal defeat upon the Little Big Horn.

In this notable battle, Red Cloud did not participate in person, nor in the earlier one with Crook upon the Little Rosebud, but he had a son in both fights. He was now a councilor rather than a warrior, but his young men were constantly in the field, while Spotted Tail had definitely surrendered and was in close touch with representatives of the government.

But the inevitable end was near. One morning in the fall of 1876 Red Cloud was surrounded by United States troops under the command of Colonel McKenzie, who disarmed his people and brought them into Fort Robinson, Nebraska. Thence they were removed to the Pine Ridge agency, where he lived for more than thirty years as a "reservation Indian." In order to humiliate him further, government authorities proclaimed the more tractable Spotted Tail head chief of the Sioux. Of course, Red Cloud's own people never recognized any other chief.

In 1880 he appealed to Professor Marsh, of Yale, head of a scientific expedition to the Bad Lands, charging certain frauds at the agency and apparently proving his case; at any rate the matter was considered worthy of official investigation. In 1890-1891, during the "Ghost Dance craze" and the difficulties that followed, he was suspected of collusion with the hostiles, but he did not join them openly, and nothing could be proved against him. He was already an old man and became almost entirely blind before his death in 1909 in his ninetieth year.

His private life was exemplary. He was faithful to one wife all his days and was a devoted father to his children. He was ambitious for his only son, known as Jack Red Cloud, and much desired him to be a great warrior. He started him on the warpath at the age of fifteen, not then realizing that the days of Indian warfare were well-nigh at an end.

Among latter-day chiefs, Red Cloud was notable as a quiet man, simple and direct in speech, courageous in action, an ardent lover of his country, and possessed in a marked degree of the manly qualities characteristic of the American Indian in his best days.

Continue reading...

[ramsayxme]

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / AO3 Link

TW - reader has paranoia, postpartum rape, murder, violence, manipulation, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse, ramsay bolton.

Chapter Nine: The Night Is Dark

Life without Ramsay seemed too far away to remember, and a future without him seemed unbearable and impossible; you would miss him too much. Your son was born in the dead of night during a harsh winter storm only 3 short weeks ago. Maester Wolken was positioned on one side of you, Ramsay loyally guarding you on the other. He was careful with you that night, gently stroking your hair as you pushed out his heir, his eyes twinkled with obsession as he examined your face. Your son had his fathers eyes, blue and piercing. Ramsay decided to call the child Ramses, obviously after his own name.

One afternoon, you were holding your son in your arms as you walked through the Dreadfort alone. Ramsay had been out on a hunt with the dogs for a few days, searching for yet another traitor of your house. Snow fell heavily as you strode through the courtyard, you inhaled deeply, the freezing air felt good in your lungs. You didn't flinch in the cold as much as you used to, now it felt somewhat comforting. The women and men of the Dreadfort nodded their heads at you as you walked past, recognizing their Lady and future Lord.

You reached your chambers just as Ramses was falling asleep in your arms. You entered your chambers and set your child in his bed, fluffing the blankets around his body so he could feel secure. You stretched when standing up, feeling grateful that he had fallen asleep. You went to the table to grab a cup of wine to loosen yourself up, but you found your wine jug empty. You tapped your foot in annoyance as you huffed, realizing this meant you'd have to go fetch your own from the barrels near the dining hall.

You disappeared through the door, your luxurious cloak swinging gracefully behind you, flashing your own flaying knife that you carried in a sheath at the small of your back; it was a gift from Ramsay after you assisted him with Reek. You reached the barrels down the hallway and dunked your jug into the deep red, filling it with the bitter wine. You allowed the drips to stop after a few moments, not wanting to soil your outfit or leave a mess in the hallway. You walked back to your chambers, eager to pour yourself a cup and sink into a chair by the fire and perhaps even read a book. You smiled at the idea.

You noticed your chamber door was ajar slightly, which was absolutely not how you left it. You quickly pushed the door open and saw one of your servants holding your son who was now awake, cooing in her arms. You felt your jaw clench as you slowly set the wine jug down. The servant smiled at you, but her smile quickly faded when she saw your facial expression. "My Lady, I apologize, he was squalling as I walked past your room. I wasn't sure when you'd return, so I thought I should comfort the little Lord."

She wore rags that stunk of sweat and spilled blood. They hung off her tiny frame, making her look even more scrawny and pathetic than she really was. Her filthy hands wrapped around your son in a way that was much more possessive than you liked. She clung to him, pressing him firmly against her chest. You felt a boiling in your gut; a bubbling heartburn fueled by anger, jealousy, insecurity, and fear. Your jaw tensed stiffly as you wandered towards the servant.

"I did not give you permission to touch my son." You hissed through your clenched jaw. A wild wrath rose even higher as you felt your cheeks flush red with rage. "Put him down. Now." You raised your eyebrows at her. She grasped Ramses even tighter against her shoulder, adjusting her grip around his little back. You couldn't handle seeing another woman hold him this way, and you hurried forward to grab your child. She winced, pulling him closer to her.

"Give. Me. My. Son." You breathed, moving even closer to her. Her back was against the stone wall now, and she had nowhere to go. You swiftly reached behind your back, your grip finding your flaying knife. In one flowing motion, you stepped forward and plunged the knife into her side, directly underneath her ribcage. It slid in rather easily, your hand feeling the warmth of her blood as she gasped and loosened her grip on your infant.

You twisted the knife that was hidden inside her flesh as you pulled it out and quickly put it back in its holder behind your back. You reached out, taking Ramses from her grasp. She pressed both of her hands on her wound in desperation, blood gushing from her side. You felt no remorse, as she had just proven herself to be an enemy by disobeying your orders. It was only in this moment that you realized Ramses was screaming and wailing. You quickly soothed your infant son as you began to breastfeed him as you stood over the woman, her life slipping away from her. You brushed your fingers over his wisps of dark hair as you watched his pale eyes flicker shut.

Just then, you heard a rather guttural chuckle break out from behind you. You turned around and prepared yourself to take on another enemy, but instead you saw Ramsay standing in the doorway. He was grinning wildly. You blinked, letting your anger die down inside yourself. You held Ramses pressed to your breast as you walked over to your husband. Ramsay held his strong arms out to embrace his family. "I see you have been busy protecting my son." He said, pressing his warm lips to your forehead. You hummed in response. "Yes. She was a threat... and was your hunt successful, my love?" He pulled his lips from your skin. "Yes. It was. And the hounds are quite full." He smiled, wrapping his arm around your son. "Let me hold my boy."

You slowly unlatched your infant from your breast and passed him to Ramsay and he smiled at his small child. You tucked your exposed chest back into your dress, but noticed Ramsay's eyes scanning your bare skin before it was hidden away. The white glow from the sun reflecting off the snow illuminated Ramsay's pale skin and you drank in the sight. His hair loosely drooping over his eyebrows as he lovingly stared at his heir. His ears peeking out through his dark curls, and the fur from his cloak cushioning his cheek as he tilted his head and admired his son. Ramsay was the only person in all the seven kingdoms that you trusted without a doubt when it came to the safety of your child.

Ramsay walked to the fireplace, sitting down on the chair with Ramses and began cooing him to sleep. You allowed your mind and body to return to you following the adrenaline high, the realization you had just murdered a woman in your own chambers began seeping into your consciousness. You pulled the knife out from your holster and walked over to the woman, kneeling down to wipe her blood off your blade with her own filthy rags.

"You did the right thing." Ramsay's voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked over at him, you were still knelt down next to the fallen woman. He nodded at you, his eyebrows raised as he cradled your son. He spoke softly to you. "She was a threat. It was the right thing to do." He turned his gaze back to the child. You realized that you hadn't even hesitated to kill her. You didn't try to take your son from her with your own hands, you instead decided to drain her of life. You furrowed your brows, reaching down and brushing the woman's hair from her lifeless face. You gingerly tucked her hair behind her ear and shut her eyelids for her. You were slammed with a sudden fear that sent a wave of goosebumps through your body.

Am I becoming a monster, just like Ramsay?

You shook the thought away, almost beating yourself up for thinking such a thing. You scolded yourself. Even if you were becoming just like your husband, it would be a good thing. The more time you spent with Ramsay, the more you realized that he was the smartest man you had ever met. Yes, he hurt people for fun, but it was deeper than that to him. You felt sick at the idea that you thought your husband was a monster; you had spent countless weeks training yourself to believe that he wasn't. He couldn't be. You loved him. You wouldn't love a monster, would you?

His claws are in your brain, My Lady. There is no turning back.

Reek's passive and recognizable voice echoed through your head. You looked around the room, startled and assuming you'd see the ragged boy standing somewhere. Impossible. You killed him. He was eaten alive. You swallowed hard as you convinced yourself that you were just very tired, possibly having some sort of hallucinations from being up all night these past few days with the baby while Ramsay was gone. It was nothing but sleep depravation.

You got up, deciding to ignore the uninvited thoughts that had just appeared in your mind. You swayed over to Ramsay and placed your hands on his shoulders. He looked up at you, a soft smile spread across his lips. "He's sleeping." He mouthed to you, your gaze shifting to Ramses. He looked so angelic, his soft cheeks were fat and his lips gently suckled as he slept. Ramsay exhaled as he stared at the baby. He slowly stood up and walked the sleeping infant to the bed that he was snatched from and laid him down. Then he turned back around and sat on the chair again. He patted his thighs and raised his eyebrows, a request for you to come sit on his lap.

You unclasped your heavy cloak and let it fall to the floor as you straddled your husband's lap. He groaned as you sat down on him, pressing against his body. He unlaced the top of your dress, your enlarged breasts falling out. They were larger than usual and Ramsay liked to admire them. While he kissed and suckled at your chest, his hands slid underneath your dress. Ramsay had thankfully not yet touched you since you gave birth, but it had only been 3 weeks. Maester Wolken suggested to wait at least 6 weeks or longer. You remember Ramsay chuckled at the request but you had foolishly assumed he would follow the directions of the Maester.

You were still swollen, sore, and bleeding frequently. You grabbed his arms as his fingers climbed up your thigh. "I don't think I am ready yet." You whispered. Ramsay looked confused. "My love... Forgive me, but I don't remember asking if you were ready?" Your stomach churned in a familiar way when you realized the dark determination in your husband's eyes. "Take off your clothes and lie on the bed. Now." Ramsay grinned, as he kissed your breasts and squeezed your hips, pushing you off of his lap. You took a deep breath, knowing that you couldn't argue with him.

You let your dress fall to the floor and pool at your feet before crawling in the bed. You were still somewhat insecure about your body since having the baby changed you so much. Ramsay didn't seem to mind as he pulled his trousers off and revealed his hard erection. You rolled over to lie down on your back, waiting for Ramsay to join you. There was no use in arguing, although you were very concerned for the pain that was certainly incoming. You had trained your mind and body to enjoy Ramsay's usual antics, but this was something much different and new. You were still horribly sore and the idea of Ramsay fucking you relentlessly was quite a painful thought.

Ramsay purred as he crawled on top of you, kissing your stomach and his hands caressing your swollen breasts. You were embarrassed about breastmilk leaking from your nipples, but Ramsay clearly could care less as he moved up to suck on your nipples. You braced yourself as he leaned back on his heels and began to stroke himself while positioned between your legs. He reached down to pet your cunt with his two fingers, and the pressure of those two fingers alone made you cry out in pain. "I don't know if I can do this..." You winced as he pressed them inside you. Ramsay snorted an exhale through his nose. "Shall I go find some other woman to please me, hm? I am sure it wouldn't be too hard for me to do..." he raised his eyebrows at you, testing your possessiveness.

"No!" You hissed as your envy bubbled over, leaning forward and pulling his body down closer to you with your fingernails. You were a very jealous woman, you didn't want Ramsay fucking any other women while he was your husband. He was yours and you were his. "Good. Then I don't want to hear you complain." He whispered as he pressed the tip of his cock against your sore and throbbing cunt. You let out a whining objection as he slowly pressed himself inside you. It felt like a fire was tearing through your lower abdomen, your body screaming at him to stop. You let out another cry and Ramsay harshly clamped his hand over your mouth.

He raised his eyebrows, shifting his eyes over towards the sleeping infant before bringing his gaze back to your face and darting from each of your eyes. "You don't want to wake him up, do you?" He leaned down and began kissing your neck as he started pumping in and out of you. It felt nearly intolerable, you knew you had torn during birth and it felt like he was just ripping you open all over again. Your pain was extreme, your eyes filling with tears. "It feels so good," Ramsay groaned between forceful thrusts. "You are swollen and warm. I have missed being inside you." Your eyes fluttered at your husband's words although your body was begging to reject him. You squirmed underneath him but found no success. He was always stronger than you and always would be.

Your eyes overflowed with tears as you screamed internally, Ramsay's hand still clamped to your jaw and mouth as he fucked you into the bed. Tears began to stream down your cheeks. Your hands were digging into his arm as an attempt to dull the pain, you noticed you started to draw blood on his forearm. "It really hurts, doesn't it?" He cooed, not slowing his pace as he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours. "Good." He grunted. You didn't want to admit that you were pleased to be abused by him. You wanted to be special.

He came quickly, thank the Gods. It had been 3 weeks of abstinence for Ramsay which is longer than he had ever had to wait with you before. He came hard inside you, his breath catching in his throat. He let go of your face so he could kiss you while he filled you with his seed, his sweat dripping on your forehead. After he finished, he smiled as he pulled himself from you, fresh blood covering his now soft cock.

He rolled over and promptly fell asleep, you assumed he was exhausted from the hunt. You curled up next to him, your body pulsating with pain, your lips quivering as you silently sobbed. Your cunt bled on the bed, even more sore and swollen than before. You winced as you tried to wipe off the blood before giving up and just letting your body attempt to heal itself before Ramsay could destroy it again. You felt broken and used but no matter what he did to you, you forgave him. You'd always forgive him. That's what love meant to you and Ramsay.

Final Chapter

[knives-in-the-dishwater]

I've been meaning to do an "everyday carry" post for a while, but I've only recently had time to lay everything out. Details below the fold.

items pictured here (starting in the top left, going down roughly in columns):

sketch wallet clutch

20 oz water bottle (usually used for coffee, kombucha, or Gatorade)

64 oz water bottle (exclusively used for water)

earbud case

pocket mirror

UAG phone case (phone, which is being used to take this picture, is a Motorola moto-G power)

rope dart

Bluetooth multimedia controls (mounted on an armband)

notebook

paracord (550lb, approx. 12 feet)

stamps

Mantis Con Brillo fixed edge tanto (with paracord handle)

alumina ceramic sharpening rod (handle broke off, but it's still usable)

two emery boards

Burt's Bees lip balm

small tools roll

sharpie

pilot g-2 pen

6 inch steel needle (used as hair pin)

small diamond rake (in small tools roll)

large diamond rake (in small tools roll)

small hook rake (in small tools roll)

large hook rake (in small tools roll)

three tension tools (in small tools roll)

angled tweezers (in small tools roll)

small-tip screwdriver (in small tools roll)

ring sizer (in small tools roll; I don't really need to carry this but it's in the roll so it doesn't get lost)

large-tip screwdriver (in small tools roll)

needle-tip tweezers (in small tools roll)

keyring

karambit

three nine-inch throwing spikes (with sheath)

sunblock

sunglasses

glasses case (with microfiber cleaning cloth)

Bradley Kimura XI balisong with G10 scales and paracord latch (scales made by Squid Industries before they were a company; just one person with a cnc mill on reddit)

contents of Sketch Wallet:

1.0 mm Ohuhu drawing pen

0.05 mm Ohuhu drawing pen

brush-tip Ohuhu drawing pen

0.5 mm Kuru Toga mechanical pencil w/ red lead

three blank playing cards

sketch book

close-up of earbuds. Moondrop Arias with FiiO UTWS3 drivers and memory-foam tips. minor damage to the left side has been mitigated with a small elastic band used as a spacer.

lmk if y'all have any questions or wanna see anything in better detail.

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

You Get Me Closer To God (SinsDC)

You Get Me Closer To God:

Thor x POC!Reader “Nyx”

Summary:

Fairytales teach us. One should not tempt a god.

Warnings:

18+ Only MDNI, Smut, PWP, Primal Play, Unprotected Sex, Biting, Cum Marking, Domination, Mild Violence, Mild Blood Play.

Notes:

The music set to this session is “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails. Give it a listen to get into the mood. Happy Reading Heathens  😈

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Banner by @cafekitsune

You enter the dimly lit room. Senses on high alert. It's too quiet.

As the door softly closes behind you a blade is suddenly pressed to your throat. A husky baritone whispering in your ear.

“Not even a spike in your pulse. You may be worthy yet.”

“Is it I who has to deem themselves worthy or the god who is too cocky in his abilities?”

With a twist you grab Thor's wrist. Pulling down and away as you pinch a pressure point, releasing the dagger into your palm. Spinning on your heel you notch the tip of the blade to his Adam's apple.

“Playing dirty tonight I see.” You taunt.

“We agreed to no powers. My battle prowess is well within our limits.”

“I find it flattering you felt the need to cheat to try and best me.”

“I was unaware that foreplay was cheating.”

“You have yet to draw blood. So foreplay this is not.”

He maintains eye contact with you as he teases a meaty hand up your thigh. Quickly grabbing your own beloved dagger from its hidden sheath with his nimble fingers. Trailing it up your abdomen. Uncaring of his own precarious situation, he teases the onyx color blade along your cleavage. With a mischievous smile to rival his brother he nicks your soft skin.

A rivulet of crimson seeps from the fresh wound.

“What was that about drawing blood?”

Your response is to return the favor by giving him a nick along the right side of his throat. Leaning forward, you catch the errant claret fluid making its way to his chest. Pulling back, Thor captures your jaw with his free hand and raises your chin. Making you meet him halfway as he ravages your mouth with his own.

The kiss is intense as he sucks your tongue. Growling at the taste of copper from his blood still fresh upon it. He releases your chin. Your dagger still held tight in his other. In the blink of an eye your dress is merely ribbons. Leaving you in only your bra and garter belt.

He tosses both daggers aside and lifts you into his arms. Carrying you across the room and tossing you onto the bed. As you try to reorient yourself he grabs a glass goblet off of the nightstand filled with dark red wine.

“Stay right there and arch your back for me.”

You do as you are commanded. I cold chill creeps up your spine as Thor begins to drizzle the wine along your skin. Bending down to savor it with his tongue. It’s messy and sexy all at once.

“You make me ravenous. They way you command a crowd. The power that exudes off of you is intoxicating. From the first moment you challenged me, I knew I would be forever changed.” He grabs your ass. Raising it higher in the air.

“Tonight I plan to return the favor by marking you as mine.”

You wiggling your ass in a taunting manner.

“Then quit your yapping and get to it already before I perish from boredom.”

“You’ll pay for that.”

“Promise?”

Having worn basically just a loin cloth, Thor had thought this plan through thoroughly. Shifting the cloth to the side, he releases his own personal hammer and pushes his blessed girth inside you in one thrust of his hips.

“A guarantee.” He grunts.

You let out a whine. Taken off guard by the sudden intrusion.

He leans forward. Grabbing a fistful of your hair and pressing you further into the mattress. The soft sting distracting you from Thor pulling his hips back until he slams back inside you.

You have no time to catch your breath, let alone think, as he conquers your cunt like a new land he is looking to acquire. You're trapped beneath him as sets out to make his claim. His forehead pressed to your spine as he nips and bites at your flesh.

Your hand latches on to the wrist he is using to hold himself up. Your nails decorating his tan flesh in half moon indents and deep scratches as you leave a mark all your own. 

He is rutting into you with the will of a predator. Devouring you whole and leaving no crumbs. Your brain is blank. Devoid of all coherent thought as you give in to your baser needs. Arching your back further so that he may sink into you deeper.

The grunts, growls and gravelly whispered praise he speaks are like a drug. Addicting as they flood your system with serotonin. Taking you higher and higher until with a choked scream, you fall apart. An amalgam of adrenaline, oxytocin and dopamine shooting through your bloodstream like lightning dancing across a stormy sky.

A roar like thunder rings out. Ricocheting of the walls as they shake with its magnitude. Testing the limits of the club's soundproofing.

“As much as I crave to rend as many cosmic orgasms out of you as possible.” Thor grits out as your walls continue to convulse around him. 

“Leaving you a mess. Ruined for all others.” He grips your hips and pushes in deeper until his tip kisses your cervix. 

“That wouldn’t be kind to Banner or Barnes. Both who are in need of your kind of magic more than I.” 

He swivels his hips and pulls back until only his tip remains. Leaning down, he rains kisses across your back and spine. He stops with his mouth perched at the juncture where your neck and shoulder meet.

“So I will have to leave you something to remember me by. Body and soul.” 

He growls the last part. Slamming back inside you, just before sinking his teeth into your flesh. Sending a shock of pleasurable pain straight to your core. Your walls squeeze and dance along his shaft in a rhythm all their own. Reducing the demigod to a gravely whimpering mess as his seed decorates your insides.

As you collapse into a puddle on the bed below you. Thors gently pulls out. Fighting against your greedy cunt as she refuses to let him go. A trail of his milky white seed, leaking for your well loved hole.

With a gentleness, he is not known for, Thor dips his middle fingers back inside you. Coating them in your mixed essence to his satisfaction, he places them at the base of your spine. He draws a symbol you can’t easily decipher from feeling alone. As he finishes, a heat can be felt and a blue glow that matches his magic sparks for a moment.

“There. My formal claim is set. I hope I have not misstepped.” He turns you over. “It is simple to remove if I have to. It’s not visible to anyone other than you and me. Well, except maybe my brother. But he can see all magic.”

“Thor.” You place your hand in his. “You're rambling. It’s fine. I actually kind of like the secret claim. Will it hinder my work or being with the others?”

“No.” He smiles. “It is just simply a bond shared between you and I. I’m not the monogamous sort. So you have no worries there.”

“Perfect. It’ll be our little secret.” You smile back. “Now, my legs are still tingly, so would you be so kind as to carry me to the bath so I may freshen up for Bruce. I’m not sure how the big guy would take me reeking of you.”

“It would be my pleasure.” He scoops you up in his arms and walks into the en suite. He proceeds to start a bath with one hand as he holds you close. As the tub fills, he removes your bra, garter and stockings. Once the water is at a level he is comfortable with, he unties the fabric around his hips. Letting it drop to the floor. 

He lifts you back into his arms and wraps your legs around him as he steps into the tub. Turning off the faucet and leaning back in the water with you laid across his chest.

“You get some rest and I’ll clean you up. Don’t worry I’ll make sure you are ready for Banner in time.”

With a kiss placed to your forehead you sink deeper into his warmth as he provides you with the sweet aftercare you’re craving. Allowing your mind a moment of stillness.

[thecampjuicebox]

Could I ask for Raphael reacting to another fiend, for one reason or another, striking Tav during negotiations (in relation to Raphael's campaign for rulership of the nine circles). Assuming Raphael shuts that down immediately, how would he react to Tav requesting that he let them deal with the transgressor themself (but Raphael can tell they are planning something)?

If this request is agreed to, Tav immediately challenges the offender to a duel (after the fiend is fully healed if Raphael injured the aggressor) in front of everyone else present - right here, right now.

Tav then proceeds to absolutely dominate the battle, leaving the offending devil within an inch of life and then forcing the fiend to grovel at Raphael's feet for forgiveness for the unsightly behavior during a negotiation, stating that Raphael's mercy is the only thing that will spare the transgressor from a death by their blade.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS IDEA, IT IS INCREDIBLE. Here's a lil sum sum to satisfy the palate.

Raphael pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger in frustration. Negotiations always do his head in, and this round is especially mentally taxing. Clearly campaigning for Ruler of the Nine Circles wasn't supposed to be easy, but gods damn does he wish he thought this through a little more. Tav stands faithfully at his side, a hand resting on the small of his back in reassurance. The cambion before him reads over the parchment that Tav had presented, words laid out neatly in Infernal. He scoffs, tossing the scroll to the floor.

"You expect me to accept these terms? You've lost your mind, Raphael."

Tav's ears burn red with irritation. The disrespectful display leaves a horrendous taste in their mouth and they step to the cambion, fists clenched at their sides. Their face scrunches up with disdain.

"You'll show Raphael some respect, you wretch."

Without hesitation, the back of the cambions hand swings forward and connects with Tav's cheekbone with a loud crack. Tav stumbles to the side and their hand flies up to cup the red hot handprint burned into their skin. The room falls silent around them. All eyes focus on the display. Raphael seethes and grabs at the Cambion's ruffled collar, yanking him close enough to feel his hot breath against his face.

"How dare you, you contemptuous creature. You insufferable ingrate. I should smite you where you stand."

His words are venomous. The cambion's eyes widen in surprise at the grip Raphael has on his collar, his hands coming up in an act of submission. Pleas for forgiveness are strewn about in a weak attempt to get Raphael to let go. Tav collects themselves and places a loving hand on Raphael's shoulder to prompt him to release the blabbering fool.

"Darling, allow me to deal with this.. miscreant."

Raphael quirks an eyebrow down at them. Surely they aren't serious. They blink up at him sweetly and gods - how could he so no to that? He releases the cambion with a shove and he stumbles backward, barely catching his footing. Tav slides their hand to the hilt of their sword, drawing it from its sheath and holding the tip of the blade to the throat of the aggressor. He gulps harshly and Raphael crosses his arms over his chest in amusement. This could be fun.

"I challenge thee to a duel. Right here, right now. If I win, you must beg on your hands and knees for forgiveness. AND sign the agreement. If you win, well.. You get to leave here with your life and your wings still intact. Deal?"

"Deal."

The cambion stands with confidence, quickly unsheathing his sword to attempt to land a quick strike on Tav. They dart out of the way and swing, their sword making fast contact with one of his horns with a loud clink. The cambion wails in pain and swings his sword again, missing Tav completely. They chuckle. Pathetic. Skillful swings back the cambion into a corner, sword bumping against his shoulder, knee, and hip. Each hit harder than the last. The final move brings the cambion to his knees - a swift strike to the calf. Blood pools through his light colored pants and he stares up at Tav in disbelief. They'd taken him down. Raphael claps slowly, chest filled with pride for his little mouse.

"Seems as if you've lost. Now beg. Raphael's mercy will be the only thing to spare you from death by my blade. You're a disgrace."

[acim-ed-ortsac]

Time on the Oro Jackson: 2

You blocked a swing from Rayleigh before parrying a jab of his blade, your feet moving around the swordsman as you blocked and attacked your mentor. The training sessions started when you were practicing your stances on the deck, focused on your form and swings and you didn’t notice anyone watching you until Rayleigh shouted tips on improving. You supposed that was how you found yourself being trained by the Dark King himself. You gritted your teeth when an attack from the man had you skid your feet.

“You’re getting better, kid,” Rayleigh said with a grin as he clashed swords with you.

You didn’t say anything but let a small smile on your lips as you twisted your wrist to push the blade away from you. You dodged a jab and blacked a thrust. Your observation haki lets you know the next few moves in the next few seconds, allowing you prepare and counter these attacks. It’s been a good while since you joined the Roger Pirates and you’ve learned a lot from them.

First of all, they’re very jolly. And loud.

But you should’ve expected that from a captain known to have smiled at his execution and started the new generation of pirates.

At times you found yourself wincing at the volume, but it was easy to get accustomed to them. Shanks likes to cling to you, demanding a spar despite your refusal, yet is not deterred or angry at your dismissal. If anything, he seemed to cling on to you more. When you’re practicing your stances, he’s there, practicing beside you or watching you instead. You take it as childish admiration.

Buggy, on the other hand, is more weary of you. Anytime you’re around him, you would notice a bead of sweat and his nervous glances at you before skedaddling out of your sight. You take no offense to this. Scared children are nothing new to you.

However, Buggy seemed to have gained courage from Shanks.

As you were wiping the sweat off your brow with a towel handed to you by Gaban, now you remember his name, Buggy approached you nervously. He approached you like you were a predator. You were amused and slightly confused as he stopped in front of you. “What is it?”

The clown sweat, eyes averting before mustering to look into your own. “Could…could you teach me how to use a knife?”

You raised a brow, “You want to learn how to wield a dagger?”

Buggy nodded, uncertain.

Hmm, if I remember correctly, the clown primarily uses daggers with his devil fruit. But he doesn’t have it yet, and he’s still too young to be holding weapons…Although, if I were to help him in the near future, perhaps he would make an interesting pirate. And maybe I’ll respect him more when Cross Guild is formed, which won’t be a good while.

After your internal debate, you sheathe your sword. “When you’re older, you can’t hold one without cutting yourself.”

“But Shanks is already learning!”

“I’m not teaching him, he’s learning by watching me. Also, he’s using a stick, not a real blade.”

Buggy pouted in anger, face turning almost as red as his nose. You rolled your eyes before ruffling his head, messing his hat much to his protest. “You have time so don’t rush, there are other ways to fight without full-on confrontation.”

“Con-frantotion?” Buggy scrunched his face at trying to pronounce the word. You forgot he’s six.  You combed your hair with your fingers, “Never mind.” you dismissed before walking away.

“Hey! Tell me what that means!”

“When you know more words.”

“I can read!”

“That’s not what I asked.”

_*_

This would be the third marine base you would enter. The third marine base you would destroy. Perhaps a normal nine year old wouldn’t be able to, but you were armed with knowledge of haki, the swords skills that you learned from your previous masters, and a bloodthirst that rivalled the devil.

The sand under your shoes crunched as yout rugged through the desert, sheathe and sword on your back, and sweat poured down your forehead like a river. Even with your light clothes and shorts, it was unbearably hot under the scorching heat of the sun. The knife in your pocket and the satchel over your shoulder were reminders on why you’re trekking this damned desert.

Up ahead, a desert city where water filled the rivers and canals, people of Alabasta descent milled around as marine soldiers march for patrol. The cloth you used as a blindfold and headwrap covered your hair and eyes while the loose long sleeve shirt hid your skin from the sun. With the observation haki you have, you walked through the city with no interruption, heading straight to the base. You hear the fearful chatter as marine soldiers marched past, you hear the pleading of citizens as a marine taunts and ppose his authority over them, you hear the bugging from a man as he’s dragged away for something he hadn’t done.

Corrupt. It’s a coincidence that you’re about to destroy the marines here when the city needed it. 

Later, you learned that marines here were all talk; all bark and no bite. They fell way to a mere nine year old with a sword, not standing a chance. You wonder if this what it meant to find it boring when other can’t challenge you anymore…

You destroyed crates and raided chests in hopes to find any resources you could use. At one point you found a devil fruit in a chest, it’s texture sandy. You regarded it with half-lidded eyes before putting it in your satchel. You then headed down in the dungeon, where the admiral might be. When you entered the admiral’s office, it was empty sans the guards there.

Your footsteps echoed throughout the dark and dry dungeon, the door creaking as you moved it. And with your knife, you blocked bullet that was shot your way. Its other half grazed your head yet you remained composed. You then moved–in the dark with only torches that almost dimmed, you dodged frantic bullets and with a lunge, you embbededth knife deep into his chest, right where his heart is. You pulled back and heard him fall to the ground with a thud.

Seeing as you have no need for the clothe, you undid the knot at the back and it fell away letting light shine on your eyes. Your hair came free, curls running wild as you ran a hand through your strands. You then scoured the cells, landing on civilians who were either poor or orphaned kids. 

You were then reminded of your island before the buster call…

You rummaged through the man’s clothes before finding the key to the cells. You hummed in satisfaction before going to free the people here, one by one. All shouted joyously at their freedom, kids clinging to your clothes as they say their thanks and cried while the adults expressed their gratitude to you. You say nothing to this.

The last cell held a boy  bit older than you. His hair was shoulder-length and eyes were narrow, a scar that bled across his nose, and ragged clothes not unlike your own. He was the only one who glared at you even as you unlocked his cell. 

A tingle at the back of your skull, a feeling of recognition yet it was vague. You ignored it before turning to leave–

“Wait.”

You paused glancing back at the boy in the cell.

“Have you seen a devil fruit in this shithole?”

Suddenly, it clicked for you.

Wordlessly, you took out the devil fruit in your satchel and threw it in the hands of Crocodile. “Take it, I have no use of it.”

You leave before the soon to be Sand-man could reply.

_*_

You felt a large hand ruffle your hair, making you glare at the old man for the umpteenth time. “Stop that.”

Rayleigh smiles back at you, “Oh, why not?”

“It’s annoying.”

“Well I can’t help it, your curls are so cute!”

You kicked his shins. “Old man.”

“Respect your elders, kid.”

“Old man.”

“Brat.”

< > Masterlist

[imsososolesbian]

The best trio in the world

Transmasc!VanNat and fem!reader

Part two of: The Break

Platonic

No warnings

Summary: The three of you go to a party

Word Count: 1870

Nat was at your stove, as Van was at your kitchen island. There was chatter from both as they bantered back and forth and you sat at the island reading a book, you three did this a lot now that you guys had made up. 

Nat was making tamales as Van was putting the finishing touches on your costumes. The three of you were going to a party that night, and had decided to meet up at your place for some food before going to the party together. It also worked out that one of you had finally managed to scrape together enough money to buy a car, or in Van’s case a truck; which was now sitting outside in your driveway. 

Van put down his paintbrush and looked over to you, “You still have that shitty cheap hair dryer right? The one with paint all over it?” Van had gotten out of his seat and walked around the island to stand behind you and rest his chin on your shoulder, taking a peak at what was written in the book. 

You nod your head slightly, too engrossed in your book to even put it down or look away for a second. “In my room, where it always is,” you mumbled out, and flipped your page. You feel Van’s lips on your cheek before he is running off in the direction of your room to get the dryer. 

Nat was mixing masa up on the counter next to the stove as he soaked corn husks. You finally put your bookmark in and set your book down before leaning back in your chair stretching. “How much longer Nat? I’m hungry,” you complain.

“They’ll be done when they are done,” Nat said, turning his head to look at you. “Patience is a virtue, you know right?”

You roll your eyes at Nat, and are about to stand up to go help Van find the hair dryer as he runs back into the kitchen holding it in his hand. He quickly plugs it in and trunks it on pointing it at the not yet dry paint. 

Two hours later, the three of you had eaten and now were splitting up in your house to get changed into your costumes. You knew the three of you were going as Batman, Wonder Woman and Superman. You were under the impression that Nat would be Batman and Van would be Superman but you were wrong.

From your bag you pulled out a blue suit and red cape. You unfolded the suit, a big red and yellow triangle with an S in the middle was what you were met with. You were surprised that you would be dressing as Superman. Yet you still got into the outfit, and put your wig on, before checking your bag because you knew there was still stuff in there and pulling out jeans, a button up and a pair of glasses with no lenses. You had a good feeling on where this night was going. 

You were sitting on your couch, dressed as Clark Kent when Nat came out in a black suit, a little bat emblem on his lapel, and a batman helmet under his arm, he also had a wig on, a little grey was mixed into the black of the wig unlike yours. “Van’s being Diana?” 

“Yeah. Said he thought it would be hilarious. He said he’s going all out. Wig, makeup the whole nine yards,” Nat says, putting his helmet on the coffee table and sitting down next to you.

Nat leans his head back on your shoulder and lets out a sigh, “He’s going to take foreverrrrr,” Nat drags out. You laugh and wrap your arm around his shoulder, and pats his shoulder.

The two of you sit on the couch side by side for an hour before Van struts out of the bathroom. He was wearing a floor length dress, the top was red and the bottom was blue with stars, he had drag like makeup on his face and a black long wig on. On his left hip was held a gold rope, and in his left hand he had a sword, “Nat, your batarangs should be in the left pocket in your pants,” he said, putting his sword away in a sheath that was attached to his back. 

The three of you put your shoes on a few minutes later and were out of the door in no time. Van was driving the three of you tonight, and you had been chosen to sit in the middle of the truck because there were no back seats. 

As Van drove you noticed that he even had replicas of the Bracelets of Submission on his wrists. You found it amazing how in depth Van had gone with these costumes. You knew he loved films and comics but you didn’t know he would take such care. You knew you should have seen it coming but you didn’t thinking making costumes was really Van’s thing but he proved you totally wrong with what he had made. 

Usually parties would be held out in the forest but tonight it was Jackie’s place. It was also just the soccer team, plus you, Misty and Taissa’s girlfriend Simone. The three of you were only allowed to come because you were dating people on the team and no other reason other than that. So you knew it was going to be a fun night. 

Van pulled up in front of Jackie’s house and parked the truck. “Alright, out let’s go,” he pulled his key out and opened his door, making sure to grab his sword from you when you shuffled out the driver side because Nat was taking too long to get out. 

You walked up with the two to Jackie’s door and waited for it to open. There wasn’t loud music coming from the house. Even when the door opened you couldn’t hear anything. That was till Jackie led you through her house and out into her backyard, where the rest of the YellowJackets were. They were sat around her fire pit and surprisingly no one was drinking. 

You spotted Misty sitting beside Crystal, Misty painted green with a black pointy hat on, and a pin straight black wig on, while Crystal had a blonde wig on and was wearing a pink dress. You could tell the two were dressed like the main characters from Wicked (after you had become friends with Van and Nat again, you started going to practice and games where you started talking to Misty, when she wasn’t busy, waiting for them to be over, and now knew more about musicals then you ever had before). Shauna was sitting on a camping chair with a can of ginger ale in her hands as she waited for Jackie to come back. Shauna was decked out in a blue blazer, a white button down and some blue jeans, you couldn’t place your finger on who she was until you looked at Jackie who was in a red blazer and a white button up, and instead of jeans she wore a red skirt, they were dressed as Veronica Sawyer and Heather Chandler. 

Van and Nat sat down and you joined them, Van waved to Taissa a huge smile on his face, and Taissa laughed before waving back. You had learned that Van and Taissa made up and Van explained more into what his gender was and you could tell that Taissa still had the hots for him and it was possible that Simone also did because she had a smirk on her face as she waved at him. The two girls were dressed as Tiana and Prince Naveen or should you say Princess Naveen because they both were wearing stunning dresses.

You once again look around, seeing Mari and Akilah sitting in the grass dressed as Edward and Bella from Twilight, and Gen and Melissa sitting next to them as Spider Man and Gwen. You kept over hearing the words “hold on tight spider monkey” every so often from the four of them. The four of them would join the main conversation after a race was conducted to see who could run the fastest with their date on their back.

Laura Lee and Lottie came late with pizza, ten boxes of it at that. The two were dressed up as Princess Bubblegum and Marceline. Lottie brought boxes from her car, while Laura Lee came in with a few cases of pop, and even some juice boxes. 

When the food and drinks were finally on the table you got up and got the three of you food. Nat got a meat lover's slice and a vegetarian one, Van got three slices of hawaiian pizza, you made sure to get ones with loads of pineapples. You grabbed a few slices of your favourtie type, along with a pop of your choosing, and Nat got a 7up and Van a root beer. 

The rest of the night was the group sitting around eating and drinking, playing games and goofing off like you were all young again. At one point you had all moved downstairs in the house, which had a huge tv and Jackie had thought beforehand to sit out things for a makeshift bed, for all of you to crash on, along with some clothes too, which would be more comfortable for sleeping in. 

Yet that didn’t stop you, Van and Nat, along with Melissa all leaning into your costumes and acting out little battles rather than turning on the tv and watching a movie. You ended up in just the superman suit, Nat was down to just his suit pants and his Batman suit, and Van had rolled up his skirt and taken out his sword and kept a hand on his lasso. Melissa had put her Spiderman hood up. 

The four of you went back and forth ‘landing’ hits on each other to the point of one winner. Yet when there was one winner you four would start back up again. It took hours for you four to stop but the others kept cheering you on as well as the others. 

You thankfully were able to remember to change before going to sleep, your costume wasn’t really the most comfortable to sleep in. The next morning was even more intense and insane. You woke up laying in a corner curled up, and when you sat up you saw Nat in the middle of Lottie and Laura Lee. Laura Lee was pretty much laying fully on top of him, Lottie had an arm around the two as they slept. 

On the other side of the room, Van was sleeping behind Simone, an arm around her waist and his hand intertwined with Taissas, like the three didn’t have a care in the world for anything other than the three of them. 

Pancakes, french toast, eggs and waffles are what you guys all ate for breakfast that morning when you all officially woke up. After that you, Simone and Misty watched all the others play soccer in Jackie’s backyard, after you all had helped clean up from the party the night before.