#black canyon trail

[thomaswaynewolf]

[vandaliatraveler]

Yet more gifts of Appalachian summer.

I've been on a mission to catalogue as many of Central Appalachia's summer wildflowers and berries as possible for an online project I'm starting up. Above is the haul from yesterday, including the stunning orange-fringed orchid (Platanthera ciliaris), a grand summer orchid of Appalachia's wet seeps and meadows. Downy rattlesnake plantain (Goodyera pubescens), another of our summer-blooming orchids, may not be quite as showy, but its intricately-patterned leaves are quite striking. Turk's-cap lily (Lilium superbum) is also in bloom in our local wet meadows and swamps. It's distinguished from its close cousin Canada lily by more strongly recurved petals and a green, star-like pattern in the center of its flowers. A single Turk's cap lily can produce dozens of flowers from its rangy stems. At home in moist woodland edges and streambanks, summer phlox (Phlox paniculata), sometimes also referred to as fall phlox and garden phlox, produces loads of gorgeous pink or white flowers from mid-July through September. Because this phlox is commonly planted in gardens nowadays, it's hard to know if plants in the wild are true natives or escapees.

[xtruss]

This New Park Gives Different Views of the Grand Canyon—with No Crowds

These sacred Indigenous lands in Arizona just got government protection. Here’s how to explore their hikes, wildlife, and impressive vistas.

— By Joe Yogerst | September 1, 2023

Red Butte, which the Havasupai people call Wii'i Gdwiisa (“Clenched Fist Mountain”), is one of many sacred Indigenous sites within Arizona’s new Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni Grand Canyon National Monument. Named a national monument by President Joseph Biden in August 2023, the one-million-acre wilderness offers hiking, backcountry camping, and views of the Grand Canyon without the crowds. Photograph By Taylor McKinnon, Center For Biological Diversity

Grand Canyon National Park draws 4.7 million visitors a year to the northwest corner of Arizona to hike, camp, or watch wildlife. But most of them don’t realize that the lands within and surrounding the park are sacred to the region’s 12 Indigenous tribes, which include the Havasupai, Hopi, Navajo, and several bands of Paiute.

That changed on August 8 when President Joseph Biden signed a decree creating the Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni—Ancestral Footprints of the Grand Canyon National Monument. Sprawling across more than 960,000 acres directly north and south of the national park, the new monument offers more rugged, less crowded recreation than its neighbor. It also provides a view of the landscape through Indigenous eyes.

“Baaj nwaavjo in Havasupai means ‘where the ancient people roamed,’” says Carletta Tilousi, coordinator of the Grand Canyon Tribal Coalition. “I’tah kukveni is the Hopi translation of ‘ancestral footsteps’. This reaffirms their creation stories.”

Here’s how the monument came to be, and how to explore it.

Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni yields views of the Colorado River and Grand Canyon from a different perspective. Photograph By Amy S. Martin

How to Make a National Monument

It took two million years for the Grand Canyon itself to form and around 40 years for Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni to become reality. “The protection for these lands is something the tribes have focused on since as far back as the 1980s,” says Amber Reimondo of the Grand Canyon Trust, a nonprofit devoted to preserving the region.

Many of these Indigenous people were expelled from their territory when Grand Canyon National Park was established in 1919. They campaigned for decades to receive stronger protection for their lands around the park, overcoming entities that wanted fewer legal obstacles to development and mining. After President Biden’s election in 2020, the 12 tribes formed a coalition which led to the lands receiving federal status.

Though the National Park Service oversees Grand Canyon National Park, monuments such as Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni are run by the U.S. Forest Service (USFS) and the Bureau of Land Management (BLM). Monuments generally have fewer restrictions regarding their use (e.g., sometimes hunting or logging is allowed), as well as fewer facilities for visitors.

Fewer Amenities, Fewer Crowds

Like many national monuments, Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni exudes raw nature. It has no bathrooms or visitor center; access is primarily via dirt roads or rough trails; you’ll need a four-wheel-drive to reach many sections of the park.

What it offers is solitude and peace amid the forests and grasslands of northern Arizona. You can gaze at the Grand Canyon without thousands of other people jostling for the same space, hike trails where yours are the only footsteps, and make camp at secluded spots. Plus you might encounter wildlife such as elk, black bear, mule deer, birds, or bison.

That solitude is also important to the Indigenous people. Tilousi says that when she visits the busy South Rim inside Grand Canyon National Park, “It’s very difficult for me to find a spot where I can offer prayers and offerings in a quiet way.” She feels that won’t be an issue in the off-the-beaten-track lands of the new monument.

Native plants including yucca flourish within Baaj Nwaavjo I'teh Kukveni National Monument. Photograph By Amy S. Martin

Exploring the Monument

The vast wilderness of Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni is divided into three distinct sections or parcels, each with its own appeal.

The southernmost section, the Tusayan Ranger District/South Parcel, is the easiest to explore. Comprising 330,000 acres within the Kaibab National Forest, its pine woodlands and sagebrush prairie are accessible via Forest Service roads or Sections 35 through 37 of the Arizona Trail, an 800-mile hiking route stretching across the entire state.

The South Parcel also shows signs of human life, including the rusty hangar of the 1920s Red Butte Airfield and the 80-foot-tall Grandview Lookout Tower, which you can climb for views of the Colorado Plateau and the Grand Canyon.

The other sections of the monument, Kanab Plateau/Northwest Parcel and Rock House Valley/Northeast Parcel, are located beyond the North Rim section of Grand Canyon National Park.

“It's a big, remote wilderness,” says Michael Cravens, advocacy and conservation director of the Arizona Wildlife Federation. “I’ve never in my life been somewhere with night skies that spectacular.” But he cautions visitors “to be careful and prepared” for the extreme weather and topography. You can reach the northern parcels on BLM roads south of U.S. Highway 89A.

The vast House Rock Valley stretches through a portion of the new national monument. Photograph By Taylor McKinnon, Center For Biological Diversity

Stretched across the Kanab Plateau and Antelope Valley, the Kanab Plateau section has hiking routes through spectacular side canyons and to panoramic views such as Gunsight Point.

The Hack Trail drops down into the Kanab Creek Wilderness with its enormous red-rock canyons, a landscape almost as impressive as the Grand Canyon itself. Experienced hikers can continue down Kanab Creek to the Colorado River or along other trails to vertiginous overlooks along the North Rim.

Set beneath the Vermilion Cliffs National Monument, the Rock House Valley section of Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni tumbles across sagebrush flats to the edge of Marble Canyon. Rugged hiking trails here include the Soap Creek Trail, which winds down from the Rapids/Badger Camp Overlook to a primitive campsite near the river.

Rough roads lead south to viewpoints for Rider Canyon, South Canyon, and other offshoots of the Grand Canyon. Here, you might even spot the North Rim’s resident bison herd, brought to the Arizona Strip in 1906 by Charles “Buffalo” Jones as part of efforts to save the species.

Ancient rock art can be spotted in the Kanab Creek Wilderness portion of Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni National Monument. Photograph By Natpar Collection, Alamy Stock Photo

The Havasupai Indian Reservation in Arizona, which includes the Havasu Waterfall—part of the Havasupai Falls—is the current home of the Havasupai people. After the Grand Canyon became a national park, they were forcibly removed from their traditional homelands in the canyon and in nearby lands that will be part of the new national monument. Photograph By Mike Theiss National Geographic Image Collection

1 Million Acres of ‘Sacred’ Land Near Grand Canyon are Receiving New Protections! The designation of the land as a national monument, confirmed to National Geographic this week by the White House, will prevent new uranium mines and protect historically significant tribal lands.

[hikercarl]

Discover Noccalula Falls: Alabama's Natural Wonder

Nestled in Alabama’s Gadsden region, Noccalula Falls is a stunning natural wonder. It has amazed visitors for many years. This 90-foot waterfall is on the state’s “20 for 2020” list of top attractions. It shows the amazing beauty Alabama has to offer. From its stunning drop to the beautiful hiking trails, Noccalula Falls gives a full outdoor experience. It’s perfect for all who visit. Key…

[thorsenmark]

The Sun Through Nearby Evergreens and Blue Skies (Bryce Canyon National Park) by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: While walking the Bristlecone Loop Trail and a view looking up and to the east in Bryce Canyon National Park. My thinking in composing this image was to close down on the aperture to create more of a starburst look with the sun and also use the tree to help filter some of its brightness. The rest of the image was about the blue skies and this one fading contrail.

[wanderguidehub]

Journey into the Depths: Hiking in Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park

Discover the Grandeur of the Gorge As the sunlight dances across the sheer walls of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park, a realm of unparalleled beauty unveils itself. This breathtaking destination beckons adventure seekers to explore its rugged trails, gaze upon the mighty Gunnison River, and immerse themselves in a wilderness that has been sculpted over millions of years. Best Time…

[bambiesfics]

⊹ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭 ⊹

warning: water-sports, extreme overstimulation, graphic depictions of lesbian smut, r!receiving finger bang, sarcastic Ellie, fluff + loving at the end.

vague description: reader has a full bladder and is trapped in Ellie William’s hatchback.

author’s note: re-upload of my fic from last blog, also don’t read this in public. It gets intense.

“Pinup paradise diner…home to… ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake Jars?’”

You read, with your face nosed deep into the crease of the monotoned map. You deflated back into your seat, irritated at the amount of eye-strain required to make out such small font. And let the roadmap blanket the top of your thighs.

“Is that where we’re going next?”

Ellie's eyes were intently focused on the red Honda Civic in front of her, the one she’d almost rolled her windows down to spit at, less than a minute ago. Her stacked bracelets clinked as she cracked the knuckles of each one of her boney fingers.

“Is that what it says on the map?”

You flipped back to the legend, squinting at the list of diners, drive-ins, and street trucks. The corner of her plump smile quirked, hearing you mutter,

“Jesus, how do you read this thing?”

Your squint jumped between Ellie and the page, “uhhhh…yes?—yes!”

“Then that’s where we’re going next.” She crudely cracked her pinky last. The last finger with chips of black nail polish speckled on it and a snug silver braided ring that hugged it. She settled into her seat, merging onto the left lane.

“Pinup Paradise? Really? Seems like an odd choice for a drink after going to Whopping Wrap.”

You flipped the map neatly back onto your lap as your girlfriend flicked the blinker up.

“Milkshakes after chicken wraps Ellie? Really?”

“Hey—Tommy said they have the best milkshakes this side of the state. That type of man, the fucking lumberjack he is, does not fuck around when it comes to satiating that gnarly sweet tooth.”

She muttered “He probably has cavities bigger and darker than the cracks in the Grand Canyon.”

And your tiny giggle teased a smile out of Ellie, as she half-heartedly blocked the swats you struck at her with the rolled up map.

Your girlfriend got such a fucked up kick out of busting Tommy’s balls, and he knew it too.

She flicked the signal light up higher once more and cruised right into the strip mall lane that led the car through to the drive-thru, the diner growing closer each second.

In a smooth slow crawl you and your girlfriend rolled towards ‘Pinup Paradise Diner.’

A canary yellow, vintage diner, littered with paintings of 50’s pinup models that decorated all of the glass windows.

A drive-thru swinging sign read ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake!’ above the order window.

You were incredibly humored, noting all the double entendres and puns that weaved through the slogans graffitied across the menu board and windows.

A young crew member poked her head out of the order window, smiling tightly before asking for both of your orders. She watched on while Ellie fished for her peeling leather wallet in the back pocket, and poked her head out of the side of the hatchback window.

“Hey, can I grab a blueberry crust milkshake? And she’ll have….” Ellie trailed off, shooting you back a look with her eyebrow raised.

“…What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have a vanilla bean milkshake please. Also could I get a bottled water, if you have that?”

“Okay, so right now we only have the 1 liter sized bottled water.. would that be alright?”

“Ah, I’m sure that’s no problem, I’ll take it. Thank youuu.” you sang, and the girl mirrored your gentle smiled. You settled back into your seat and she closed the window.

“Why’d you get water?”

Ellie observed, hastily touching up her upper and bottom lashes with mascara, in the dash mirror, before she had to put her foot on the gas.

Vain. You teased in your head.

….But so pretty.

The mascara made her already long lashes, even longer. Her dark brown eyeliner was smudged, yet the grittiness was still so attractive on her. “You should wear brown eyeliner more Els. It really brings out the green in your eyes.”

She side-eyed you suspiciously.

“Thanks?…”

And you rolled your eyes. Your girlfriend loved to pretend she was allergic to compliments unless they were talking about her earth-shattering service top abilities.

Ellie grabbed both your milkshakes. And used her teeth to rip the paper cover off her straw while passing you your drink.

She put her foot on the gas and peeled out.

“You still didn’t answer the question.”

“What question?”

“The question of what possessed you to buy an entire liter of water?”

“Because like, you know the sweet aftertaste left in your mouth after you eat something really sweet? I don’t know, but it makes my mouth feel dry.”

“Ah.” she responded.

“…that’s actually real as fuck.”

“Right?” You settled deeper into your seat. Hugging the milkshake to your chest while you stalked a few instagram stories, relaxing into the rhythmic roll of your girlfriend's beat up hatchback.

Townhouses and parked SUV’s started running on either side of the car as Ellie drove on, deeper into suburbia. You pushed yourself up to gaze out the window.

“Where are we going?”

Ellie turned right into a smaller street.

“To find a place to park. I’m tired of driving.”

“Hmm, sorry baby” you hummed as you rubbed her thigh. Your eyes lit up. “Then can I drive your ca—”

“—no. When will you stop asking?”

“When you finally let me drive it? Let me behind the wheel please.”

She scoffed, eyeing you up and down. “So I can end up with my knees touching the back of my skull? Yeah no.”

“You’re not funny Ellie.”

“And you’re the only passenger princess I’ve seen whining to do her girlfriend's job. Be a lady, damn.”

You broke down laughing, clutching your chest while Ellie bit her lip down to put a lid on her own laughter.

You shimmied close to her, your breasts squishing her upper arm.

“Then can I have some of your blueberry shake?”

She circled the straw around your mouth and made you chase it.

“uh ah-uh-hah—Ellie.” You whined.

Ellie barked a laugh at how adorable you looked, and then slotted the straw onto your puckered mouth.

“Mmm…”

“You like?”

“Yeah it’s so yummy. I should’ve gotten that instead.”

Ellie attempted to take her milkshake back, but with some struggle as you leaned further and further into her seat, pressing your front body into her arms just to keep tasting it. You were practically finished your own drink, and were now drinking half of hers. And in that moment you recalled at all the previous times your girlfriend had gripped your ass and whispered how you were a greedy little princess in your ear. Ellie was an asshole through and through.

But she spoiled you, and she loved doing it.

You eased back, and Ellie stole her milkshake back. She circled her tongue around the tip of the straw before sucking it. Wrapping her pink lips around the sticky tip your rosy lip gloss had covered seconds prior.

You dropped your empty cup in the cup holder and went to chug most of your water. It provided an indescribable amount of relief from the saccharine blanket on your tastebuds. A cool feeling that settled in you, as Ellie pulled into a grassy park parking lot.

Willow trees lined up along the curb, their weeping pose provided shade to several lots, including the one above you.

Ellie killed off the engine. She tipped her head against the headrest in relief. She flexed her fingers, stretching out the kinks, feeling the breeze run past.

Her head lolled limply to face you. “Do I really look that good in brown eyeliner?”

“Yes you really do.”

Ellie’s cheek dimpled.

“I love when you tell me stuff like that.”

“Like what? That you look pretty?”

You murmured into her shoulder, looking up at her.

“Yeah, makes me feel…dunno, not like a greasy loser.”

“Please, as if I would ever let a greasy loser bag me.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Jesus, kill yourself.”

She maintained eye contact with you, green eyes jumping between your own. Reflecting the amber beauty of the sun in its sparkle. She gave you a soft smile, you gave Ellie one back. A truce to the constant teasing. And Ellie took it as an invitation to dip her head down, and pull your lips into a kiss. One she’d been yearning to do since she’d first reversed both of you out of your driveway.

Ellie chased the kiss into the back seat. She gripped the fat of your hips to inch you slowly off of the center console and towards the back. She followed, kicking her loose driver’s seat forward with the sole of her sneakers. The slide adjusting rail had seen better days, and had been owned by better people than the currently horny, blunt, ungraceful young lesbian who had an avid penchant for violence, that owned it that day.

Ellie teased her hand up from your hips to the base of your neck, to grab the back of your head as she worked her puffy lips against yours. She was hungry for your little mouth, and it was seen in the way her jaw flexed.

Ellie kissed you with a remarkably intense eroticism.

Her hands ran down over the fabric of your milkmaid top before ripping the holes away from the buttons to let your tits spill out right into her hands. Each nipple immediately kissed the waiting pads of her thumbs, as they moved to greedily massage the sensitive head. Grazing each of your puffy tender domes over and over. “Fuck, need to suck these heavy tits baby.”

Ellie’s lips made their way down your chest. She suckled some swollen red marks into the skin, before making her way lower. Coming eye to eye with your nipples.

“Can you please squeeze your boobies together?”

You took your palms and pushed them together. Ellie's whiny sigh sent heat pooling in your tummy. She leaned in, licking a greedy stripe across both nipples, tickling their head with the tip of her tongue, tonguing the flesh around both areolas. And suckling your nipples intermittently then popping off them. Leaving both of them so puffed out.

Your squeaks filled the expanse of her small car, and her aroused groans joined to match.

She shoved her fingers in the waistband of your tiny denim shorts and tugged at them. They budged, but barely, so you helped your girlfriend. You lifted your ass off the seat and slid your shorts and thong down your thighs, before Ellie slid them the rest of the way off your ankles and threw them in the front seat.

The soft breeze blew past your cunt. Exposing the warm skin to a cooler environment.

“S-should we be doing this in a park?” you squeeked.

Ellie kissed her answer on your lips “there’s” *smooch* “no one” *smooch* “here.” As she shoved her hand down to palm the fat of your vagina. Feeling your pussy fill up her fingers. Ellie curled a middle finger into your tight hole, it barely wanted to split apart to accommodate her finger. But she marveled at how hungrily it sucked her in. She pumped shallowly before adding in her ring finger.

Her chrome ring grazed the swelling mound inside your hole; your g-spot. And it pulled a pathetic mewl out of you. She curled her wrist up, ligament appearing. And pumped harder. Enjoying your shaking thighs in the air.

Your brain was melting into mush. And all you managed were barely coherent babbles.

“…feels ss-s'good” your eyes were rolled backwards.

“God bunny…” Ellie marveled, “your pretty pussy’s so greedy.”

Ellie’s teeth dug into her lip “How did I bag you?”

All you could muster were delirious squeak noises in response as you tugged on the base of her ponytail.

“Look-look down” Ellie’s fingers grasped your chin, pulling your eyes away from her flushed aroused face and towards your own shiny pussy. “L-look at how you’re swallowing my fingers.”

Ellie’s forehead knocked against yours.

“Hey…c-can you squeeze for me?”

You never disobeyed her instructions, not when you both were like this. Nodding limply, you clamped around Ellie’s fingers, a choked moan escaped you. And a deep, throaty groan escaped her. Feeling how tightly you suckled in her fingers, how badly you wanted her there, made a warm heat throb between Ellie’s legs and left her boxers sticking to her sloppy cunt. Ellie could almost cry that she couldn’t bully a cock inside you, just to feel that desperate clamp around her cock.

Her ring pushed into your plump inner walls over and over, and dragged a new delicious zing of pleasure through the ribbed inner walls. Puffy, swollen, and sloppy with slick.

Ellie had a newfound resistance in her thrusting, the clamping, warm grip of your puffed out walls were holding her fingers still. But she kept pumping, like a suction cup being stuck on and popped off.

You were assaulted with thrilling pleasure from your walls clamping, chasing the press of her jewelry. And from your girlfriends frenzied, desperate thrusting. Ellie was just as hazy brained as you.

It was a costly mistake. All of the fluttering was stimulating your pelvic muscles. Which stimulated the other tiny hole snuggled in your pussy. The familiar pressure of a full bladder pressed behind the teeny hole of your urethra. Your squeaks came out strained. You scooted into different positions on the seat, trying to ebb away the pressure.

The shifting positions only made it worse as your tummy squished from movement, and as Ellie pumped upwards.

She jack hammered her fingertips against the puffy roof of your warm cunt. Her feverish ministrations put so much pressure on your bladder. You choked out a breathy plea.

Your hands skated up your girlfriend's torso, past her exposed waist and pebbled nipples that strained against her t-shirt, and finally towards her square shoulders in an attempt to push her back.

She needed off.

“I gotta…uhn… I gotta.” you whimpered.

“What was that?” Ellie sighed.

“I-ah!” The thrust felt so good.

You were whiny “th-think I needa pee.”

“I’m fucking you so good it’s got you confusing cumming for peeing? Y’so adorable it’s insane.” Ellie kissed your lips, picking up her pace.

She took the hand she’d used to squeeze and pinch your tits and brought it down to press on your lower tummy, as she thrust up.

Oh.

“Nnnnhnhn no! ph-please ewwie.. can’t—hold it.” You babbled the same desperate plea incoherently, but with a mouth nearly paralyzed from the incessant abuse of your hole Ellie was doing, you were left whiny and gulping, babbling tiny sentences at a time.

Sweat pricked at your skin, an orgasm was fucked into your vagina, and a full bladder pressed at your urethra. You didn’t know what to do as the mounting climax forced against your urethra left you with a desperate need for release, in the car.

Ellie’s lips kissed your jaw, snuggling against your head.

“You wanna let it out, big girl? Make a big mess f’me. We can clean it all up later, I promise.”

“nuh—ah Ellie no no…aghh! ”

Your urethra let out a thin light spurtle. Settling into the space between you two as more slick gushed out of your hole. You sobbed through your orgasm, from the joint pleasure of climax combined with relief from pressure pressing against your urethra. Ellie kept fingering you through each tiny pump of liquid that squirted from your urethra and through each contraction of its sloppy wet vagina, as slick spilled out of you and ran past your bare ass, onto her leather seats. With each aggressive thrust of Ellie’s fingers—fuck in—pull out—came out spurt after spurt, from each hole. She slowed down once you fell back into the seat softly; boneless and glass-eyed. Like an abused rag doll.

You both caught your breaths, Ellie from the aggressive thump and heat in her pussy. And you from your ‘accident’.

Ellie watched as the looming embarrassment creeped every so slowly onto your face, as the orgasm slowly ebbed away. She placed shaky kisses on top of your head. Cupping the back of it in support.

Sure, maybe her car wasn’t the best time to explore that kink. Seeing as the bottom half of her shirt and her belt was wet.

But she wasn’t going to let her girlfriend curl in on herself in shame, just because of her body’s natural reaction. Especially one that Ellie practically fucked out of you.

If not for the small space of the car she might’ve pulled you into her lap, to kiss away the upset creases between your brows. But she could do nothing more than hover above your trembling body, and caress your squished tummy with her free hand, until the shaking eased.

She was breathless. “You did so good, baby.”

You shoved your face into the crook of Ellie’s neck. The sweet cologne on the collar of her shirt calmed you down, with its medley of gourmands, lavender and florals.

Your girlfriend had a way of grounding you. Everything about Ellie had the ability to. From her cold, icy fingers, to her soft, pine scented hair. To her woodsy cologne, always left on the collar of her shirts, ready to tranquilize your unrest.

“nuh-uh I—.”

“—So good. My good girl, doing exactly what I tell you too, c’mere.”

Ellie unplugged her fingers out from your hole and suckled the last bit of slick cream off, then swiped it on her shirt. She licked her lips. Using her now clean hand to cup the side of your jaw and draw you into a heated kiss that left both of you trembling.

You shifted positions in the seat from discomfort.

“You still need to pee s’more?”

“No.”

“Babe…”

“Maybe.”

Ellie reached over and opened your door, then hopped out from her side. Jogging over to shield your body.

You crouched in behind her, her and the car towered over you from both sides.

You pouted up at her, and she glowered down at you. Her arms crossed firmly as she looked away briefly to scan around the area. Before parking her gaze back down at you as the remaining stream from your bladder emptied itself.

“No more vanilla bean milkshakes.” you winced at the feeling of the breeze tickling your swollen labia.

“Of course. Yeah, that was the real culprit. Not the mega-giant 1 liter water bottle.”

You frowned.

Ellie’s arms dropped from their cross, and her black fingernails pinched the fat of your cheek and pulled teasingly.

She reassured you.

“Yeah sure, we’ll blame it on the vanilla bean milkshake.”

[pursuitseternal]

“All Vim and Vigor, dearest…” a soft, nsfw Vampire Rogue Astarion update for “Bites in the Night:”

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 4K wound tending sex

Summary: the aftermath of a battle, and one companion is missing. Astarion. You race to find him, pulling him the the grip of death.. true death. Your tender, loving care can restore him. After all, you have to make sure all his vim and vigor is returned to him. Entirely.

CW: Blood, near death experience, healing, wound cleaning, flirtation, awkward Karlach interrupting growing intimacy, blow jobs and mutual hand jobs and fingering, just too be sure everything is… healed.

For @genesis-6666 💌

Read here if you prefer on AO3

Find him, save him…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The dead lay around you. Goblins. An ambush. You bend over, hands on your knees, panting to catch your breath. Your wounds are minimal, and already Shadowheart has run to find the rest of your party, healing… or reviving… when needed. She looks up from over Gale’s body, his chest finally breathing again. But her eyes look worried. You scan the area, seeing everyone staggering between the trees. Almost all, you realize as your thumping heart stills. There is one of you missing. And your stomach twirls in knots as you realize just who.

You spin your head, looking. “Where is he?” you call to her. “Where’s Astarion?”

She shakes her head. “I thought he was with you, on the high ground,” she pants. “He was up there last I saw.” Her lithe hand points into the crags of rock and mountain that line the canyon.

It had been quick, sudden, and brutal. The ambush of Goblins swallowing you up. Last you remember, he had stared at you. Excitement, surprise, the thrill of bloodlust and eagerness in his eyes, as the goblin ranks kept coming and coming down from those ridges. One last fang-flashing smirk before he ran into the shadows, skirting up to their source. Your fearless, reckless, stupid rogue.

You hurry, scrambling up the trail, swerving past the thicker pools of goblin blood, leaping over their bodies. You see them scattered all over, dagger stab wounds and slashes.

Signs that he was here.

It’s carnage that you push past. Climbing higher until you reach a plateau, empty, the end of the trail, where you expect to see your vampire, your rogue, your… your love. But there is… nothing. Not a body. No enemies. No Astarion.

Panic fills you, heart rapping in your chest, breath growing short. But you force yourself forward. You make your eyes scan the ground for any clues. His blood. Or signs of his capture. You make your lungs fill, you shout his name…

Then, you hold your breath.

A faint groan comes from the distance, somewhere near the sheer rock face that pierces the sky, from the dense shrubs that line it. You race after it, feet almost skittering as you stumble in that direction. Your hands pushing into the brambles, catching sight of pale skin. Covered in blood.

You reach for his body. His skin is cold, waxy, and tight. You find one arm and pull. He groans as you tug, you grab his second arm, freeing him from the brambles, even as your lungs ease to see his face again.

But your hope fades to agony, his face is bruised and beaten, black and blue and shadowed more than his undead charisma. His breathing is quick and shallow, his eyes nearly swollen shut from whatever beating he took up here. You finally slide him free, his clothing is torn, almost every inch of the skin you see is darkened with bruises.

His voice shakes as he tries to catch a breath, eyes forcing themselves open to look at you. “You’re here,” he manages to rasp out. “I knew you would find me. You always find me.”

“Shhh,” you run your hand through his hair, his brow damp with sweat, his eyes losing focus as his head begins to loll. “It’s going to be alright.”

“At least I got to see you once more…” his voice grates against his throat, breath growing ragged.

You hand digs into your pocket, pulling out your last vial of healing potion. You pull the cork and press it instantly to his lips. The liquid flows into those pale lips, and you can only kneel and pray it’s enough. His breath begins to ease instead of rattle, his face beginning to heal, his pallor returning, the traces of blue-black death fading.

His mouth twitches trying to talk. But you shush him softly, “I’m here, Astarion, it’s alright.”

“F-far from,” he ekes out as his eyes flutter open slightly, the swelling abating just enough for you to see both crimson eyes again.

“I’ll get you back to the others,” you look around, sizing up his lean body, running a hand through his hair before you brace behind his shoulders to get him to sit upright. He groans, limp in your arm. He can be so strong and swift, but it’s only now you also notice how lithe he is. How lean. But still, he’s too great a weight for you to bear alone.

That’s when the running of heavier feet makes your lungs fill fully and your heart leap in hope. “You found him, good for you, soldier!” Karlach trods right up next to you, barely out of breath. “Shadowheart said you would hopefully have found him, I’m to help you back where we are making camp.” Her thick tiefling arms pick him up, none too gently, and you hiss in worry to see him pulled to his feet so quickly.

“I swear, if you throw me around like that, I would puke on you if I had anything left in me…” he snipes as Karlach takes him by one arm, shaking her fiery head at his sass with a smile and waiting for you to take the other.

You snigger. He must be on the mend if he is throwing those barbs out again. But he falls silent again, head hanging low. You shoulder his body as best you can, bracing one hand on his bare chest, wishing for once he had a living heart that beat so you knew he was alive. “Stay with me,” you grunt, shoving your mouth into his long, pointed ear. “I’ll kill you if you die, you know.”

“I know… my sweet,” he manages to rasp, a slight turn of his head to throw you a feeble smirk. Karlach is definitely bearing most of him, but she doesn’t complain, not as you finally make it down the ridges and back to the main road.

“Not too much further,” Karlach heaves more of him on her shoulder, “Gale should have the tents up by now so he can rest.”

You three round a bend, the flickering of a fire and the spattered sight of tents warms your heart. You made it. Even the rose and burgundy canvas of Astarion’s tent is set to perfection. You’ll have to remember to thank Gale later, once your rogue is through the worst of it.

Into the warm dark you go, setting Astarion out on his bedroll, propping him cautiously on a stack of pillows.

“Water, clothes, and another potion,” Karlach points to the supplies placed tidily within reach. “I’ll be back, just shout if you need anything.”

And then she steps away, taking her warmth and her glowing presence back through the flaps of his tent.

You look after her, another friend you’ll have to thank.

Something hard and cold grips around your hand from where it rests on the ground. He’s clutching you, making sure he’s not alone.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before you rest it on his own stomach. “Let me get you cleaned up,” you look into his face, his eyes still shut, face still and unmoving. “Is that alright?”

“More than alright,” he speaks quietly, “the sooner you get rid of this stinking goblin blood off me, the sooner I can just savor that delicious fragrance of yours…” he hisses in pain before the last word is completely off his tongue. Your hand ghosts over the still-sprawling bruisers that run along his side. He tries so hard to be the usually suave, charismatic charmer, but something still troubles him.

Your hand hovers between the cloth and the potion, unsure what to do first. Then you hear it, a wracking cough, one that shakes his frame, bringing blood to his lips.

His blood.

You quickly uncork the second bottle, fairly shoving it in his mouth. “What did they do to you?” You barely get the question out your mouth as he sighs from swallowing the healing mix down.

“Thrashed me an inch from life… or an inch from undeath I suppose…” He forces a blithe smile, his giggle is slick with his own blood, but at least you can hear his lungs filling. More fully than before. The potion working to heal whatever internal damage he must have had.

You eye the red around his lips, pausing for a second. It was a common sight, his bloodied lips, but… never his own blood.

You wonder, for a moment, how does he taste?

You know the salt of his sweat, the bitter tang of his cum, why not? Why not see what his blood tastes of, for once…

“Gods below,” he throws you a mischievous smirk. “You’re wanting to taste my blood now, aren’t you?” You feel your surprise lifting your face, and he only sucks his teeth, shaking his head in feigned disbelief. “Tch, I don’t need a spell to read your dirty thoughts, darling…”

Your eyes dart to his conceited, smirking mouth. You hold your breath… until you close your hand around the towel and soak it in the soapy water. “Don’t be ridiculous, Astarion…” you huff, starting to bring the cloth to his face.

His hand grips the back of your neck, clutching you against his mouth for a wet and bloodied kiss. It tastes… ancient, refined and heady. Rich in a way that coats your tongue, even as his own delves in to tangle with yours. You swallow, sucking on his lips for more. He laughs, lightly, hiding a groan, “If you’re planning on more rigorous pursuits, I’d say I need bathing and tending first, darling.”

You pull away, shocked at yourself, so aroused with him only moments ago near-death. Your cheeks flush, white hot as you begin to clean him. He closes his eyes, propped up as he is on pillows. Lounging, relishing your full attention.

You wash and rinse, wash and rinse. It’s hard not to stare at his beauty, at the hard edges of his cheeks and jaw, the little lines about his eyes that crinkle when he smirks or laughs. He locks those piercing eyes on you as you dip the rag back and wring it out. He stalks every movement you make, washing his body lower and lower, inspecting his bruises as they slowly fade with the healing magic.

You finish his chest, forcing your breath to steady as you wash that rising and falling belly of his.

“Are you sure I don’t need tending any lower…?” he purrs.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Perhaps you rest first before you insist on everything checked for being in good working order, hmm?”

He rolls his eyes back in his head, a sigh of total emphatic drama. “Doctor’s orders…” he grumbles, lounging back against the throws, but not before he gives a little thrust of his hips, a clench of his belly under your hand where it rests on him still.

“Sleep, you scoundrel,” you chide, reaching to dry off his now clean skin, savoring the fresh scent in the air from the soap. You feel his body, still tense under your touch, wound tight and stiff that isn’t the result of his charming flirtation or dirty, lustful thoughts. You look at him, staring at his face, worry furrowing your brows. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes flicker over you, bright with mischief, half-lidded with flirtation. “Vampires don’t require… sleep. Not much. Not as much as… well… other things…”

You look into that beautiful face. He’s gaunt. Pale, well more than usual. Rings line his eyes, cradling that crimson glare in shadow. His lips twitch, fighting the urge to bare those glistening and pointed fangs.

“Oh, gods, now?” you breathe, heart racing.

He waves a hand dismissively, a sharp edge to his voice. Hungry. Annoyed. “Well, if you don’t want your strong, well-fed vampire to heal completely, then by all means…”

“No,” you almost leap next to his face, those smirking eyes scan over you, dilating in his hunger, fixating on the rapid pulse you know must be just throbbing under your skin for him to salivate over. But his hand grips yours, raising it to his lips. Kissing your fingers so softly, your stomach drops and your throat tightens. Slowly, he turns your hand over in his, raising your tingling inner wrist to his nose. You feel his breath, cold and quick, as he inhales your scent. Probably already savoring the scent of your blood rushing just beneath your skin.

“So then, I may?” his voice almost fails to reach your ears, you hear it more from the little tickles his breath makes across your skin, the gentle flutters of his lips over the nerves of your wrist. Like lighting in the air, his breath ripples in pinpricks on your skin.

“Yes,” you sigh, lungs burning as you hold your breath until he bites thos razor-sharp fangs into your tender flesh. Gasping, you hold your wrist to his mouth, every drop of your blood that leaves you, you can almost feel, almost sense, how it makes him stronger again. Empowered again. Hungry again for more.

It just feels so good, even as he feasts on you, as you savor that strange sensation that follows every time he feeds, that union of your bodies, your blood sating his hunger, beginning to course in his veins. A small, strangled moan escapes your lips, your eyes fixated on the way his mouth sucks on your wrist. You’ve never seen it before, never been able to watch his consuming of you, as he drinks from your neck. The little ways his tongue laps at your skin, the small bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallows you down. A different sort of pleasure denied you when he drinks in the middle of the night. Your stomach churns, your thighs burning hot as you can’t look away.

A slight, definitely insufferable smile tugs at the corner of his lip as he sets your wrist back in your lap. “Liked what you saw?” he preens, so proud as he dabs a single finger at the bloodied corner of his mouth. “Or just thankful I’m still here to have my fill of you?”

“Both,” you reply before even a second thought crosses you mind. Your sight lowers to his mouth, you can almost feel those lips on yours, the way the twitch ever so slightly, the little tweaks that lift them to show those pointed fangs you love to have catch your flesh and nip at you when he kisses….

So close, you feel him closing that distance, his breath rushing into you, filling your lungs, your soul, ice cold and tangible.

“Hope you like rabbit, Gale’s got stew nearly done for…” Karlach sticks her flaming, sparking scarlet head into your tent then she strides all the way in. Those glowing eyes go wide. You’re so close, even as you turn your head, you can hear Astarion’s laugh tickle the creases of your ear.

You go flush, and not just because he insists on still giving your cheek a lingering kiss.

“Feeling better, is he?” Karlach laughs, a bit forced. A bit uncomfortable.

“Clearly,” you huff, sliding slightly from his side. But he only leans all the closer.

His eyes rake over you. You can feel it. You can almost see it in the way Karlach sifts from foot to foot. He chuckles, low and slow, “Yes, all vim and vigor, dearest. We were just about to discuss how I was going to make it up to her for all that attentive care and healing I required to pull me back from the brink of death…”

Your eyes flicker to Karlach, who would be blushing beet red now if she weren’t already so scarlet. “Ahem,” she clears her voice and stands quickly, “that’ll be my cue. I’ll leave you two to it..:”

“No it’s okay… the stew...” you begin but she’s already gone and yelling on the other side of the tent.

“Oi, Gale, keep it warm…” a long pause follows, a deep voice muted in the distance. Then Karlach guffaws with gusto. “Yeah, they’ll be fucking for hours most likely… she might not even be hungry once he stuffs her again…” the tiefling’s boisterous laugh fades as she trods away.

Your face goes hotter than an inferno, but that only makes his cold fingers sear all the more as he caresses your cheek. A single finger lifts your chin, turning your face towards that rakish, sultry smirk. “I thought she’d never leave. Now,” he hovers his mouth right over yours, “where were we?”

“We…” you clear your throat, “we were just making sure you were healed…”

“Mmmm, I’m pretty sure you’ve inspected me thoroughly everywhere but one place, darling,” he rasps, catching your lips in a commanding, languorous kiss.

“You almost died, Astarion,” you hiss between his teeth, fighting the way your folds are burning up, the way his other hand begins to slink over the buckskin of your breeches. “Should you really risk so much exertion?” Your body is tensing, your mind remembering the way he rattled as he struggled for air on the mountain, the way his flesh was blackened and sickly. Dead, almost truely dead.

His chuckle, that low-throated giggle, pulls you out of those macabre imaginings. “Well, I'd be more than happy to simply lay back and let you do all the hard work, if that’s what your concern is…”

You give him a mocking smile, “Oh yes, I’m very certain you are only doing this for my sake, love. Making sure I feel good after pulling you back from near death to life… well to undeath…” You give a sheepish grin, relieved that your humor only adds to the mischievous glint in his crimson eyes.

“You know me, the image of selflessness. I’m doing you a favor. If you left now…” his smirk widened, deliciously, wickedly, “…you’d be thinking about it all night.” His hand weaves into the little hairs at the nape of your neck, twirling them in the way he knows drives you crazy.

“Well, I suppose I can be persuaded… just to make sure you’re all vim and vigor.” You laugh as his hand is already loosening the laces of his breeches. “But,” you place one of yours to stay him a moment. Gods, you can already feel his cock, hard and pushing his way out for pleasure. You swallow, making yourself look in his eyes. At how they swirl with his lust, glassy with his need. “But you tell me the moment it’s too much, you promise?”

“If you wanted me to just be more vocal during our couplings, you had only to ask, darling…” he purrs, forcing his fingers loose under your palm to continue unlacing.

You grab them in yours. “I mean it,” you insist, hard in tone, commanding in just three words.

“I promise, I’ll say when, my dear,” he laughs, finally freeing himself from the confines of his breeches. You look down at him, his devious pleasure of just watching you crawling between his thighs.

You give his cock a good, long lick from base to tip, his groan of approval sending shivers between your own thighs. But you force a dispassionate hum as you wrap your lips around his twitching head. “Seems in good working order,” you whisper.

“I think it needs a little more.. attentive care, darling…” he groans, very loudly as you wrap your mouth all the way around him, taking him in deeply over your tongue. You roll your eyes, unsurprised at how he gives a moan with each suck you make, each lap of your tongue running up his length.

More vocal indeed.

You bob up and down, your lover relaxing back against his pillows, fingers toying languorously through your hair. Your own hand pumps over the rest of him that just can’t fit inside your lips. He feels so good, so hard and strong and full of life. And he seems to be getting louder… his moans increasing. “So good for me, darling…” he starts to praise. “Always so attentive and eager… and…”

You pop off him, meeting that insufferable smirk and quirked brows. “You want them to know, don’t you?”

“Me? Wanting to draw some attention to our lustful pursuits?” He casts that look at you that makes every nerve in your body flame with unbridled desire for him. “I just want them to make sure you care of me is certainly thorough,” he grins, “I’m just so… thankful… it’s hard to keep it in. After all you do… so much for me, darling…”

“Be a dear and shut up,” you purr, giving one more swirl around that ridge of his tip.

“Make me,” he growls, flashing that roguish smirk down at you, licking his lips.

You pounce, flooded with relief that he is alive... that he’s filled with all that vim and vigor and irascible, irritating sass. You’re brimming with the need to feel him, for all his taunting and flirtation, all his lust and passion, you’re just… happy he is here. To kiss, to fuck, to banter with. And you do make him shut up, your lips on his, your teeth sinking playfully into his lower lip, sucking it with a tug. You keep one hand on his cock, riding it, pumping it, keeping time with the way his tongue darts in and out of your mouth. Something cold slips under your shirt, his fingers skating into the band of your breeches.

You keep your mouth fixed on his, making certain he’s far too busy for any noises you can’t muffle. But as his fingers slip between your thighs, an unbidden cry rips from your throat.

“Who’s the loud mouth now?” He chides, sucking his teeth at you, even with your lips coupled as they are. He laughs again, his fingers catching on your clit just right as he rides up and down your seam. “Don’t cease your own task at hand on my account,” he sniggers, his cold fingers lacing around his shaft, interweaving with yours.

His breath sucks in yours. His fingers playing in you, teasing so much wetness from your folds, you wish you had just taken your pants off when you had the chance. Now it was too late. Now, you’d be sticky from your own arousal, probably covered in his cum too as you leave his tent.

The thought makes your cheeks burn but not in shame. In a searing wave of desire. Your hand works up and down, catching that thick, blunt tip with your thumb in the way that makes him groan. His kisses deepen, hungry and feral, the same he’s stoked in you with the little ways his fangs catch on the inside of your lips. He’s losing that refined control he keeps. Pushed past the calculating movements as you stroke him in your fist and lick his tongue with your own.

“Gods,” he growls, his cock so hard, his fingers inside you working at a fevered pace. “You’ll come for me too, darling. My recompense for your care.”

“Yes,” you moan, his fingers diving deep into your cunt, crooking on that sweet spot he knows well.

You clench, shaking as he pummels inside you, your own hand struggling to work on his cock with how hard he is. How thick he is. But the instant you drench his fingers and fill his palm as you climax, he follows you into that messy, groaning bliss. Hot cum drips down your arm, spattered on your sleeve, on the belly of your shirt.

He’s gasping into your mouth, his lips pulled back wide in a genuine smile. His forehead presses against yours as he catches his breath, stealing your own from your lips. “Well,” he pants, “am I fully recovered?”

“All vim… and vigor…” you heave, moaning as he slips his fingers from your thighs.

“Hmm,” he hums against your lips, trapping them in his own with a slight nip. “Are you sure you’re satisfied with my performance?”

You laugh, giving a little shove against his chest. “For now,” you tease, “but it seems another round of cleaning is in order.” Your hand reaches for the rag, wiping his juices from your hand, your arm. Only to hear him sucking on his own fingers.

His brow arched wryly as you turn to watch. Those two long fingers that still drip with your cum are shoved far back in his mouth, his tongue swirling over every inch. “What?” he smirks, “why waste something so delicious…”

You shake your head, lovingly irritated at his cheekiness, but already your body is already aching for more. “Perhaps,” you clear your throat, heart pounding as you watch him sliding those already drenched fingers over his tongue. “Perhaps you do need a little more inspection, just to be sure…”

“Thought so,” he sniffs, that insufferable smirk widening to show his teeth. “Best be sure… just in case…”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Read more “Bites in the Night:”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Ascended Astarion in “The Rogue You Were:”

🩸Part 1 🩸 Part 2 🩸Part 3 🩸 Part 4🩸

Read my Drabbles

“Just a Drop…” Astarion as Tav turns

“Beg me…” A highly NSFW Ascended Astarion x reader

“Your Reward:” Ascended Astarion Dark!Fic

[quintessencewrites]

Lil Hobie

atsv Hobie x thick!black!fem!reader

“God dammit, Hobie!”

“‘Hobie dammit, Hobie’ is kinda a redundant statement, love, don’t ya-”

Warnings: SMUT heavy (18+), all porn, no plot breeding kink, slight hematolagnia, masturbation with an audience, teasing, vaginal sex, mentions of oral sex, Hobie's got a God complex, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie, Hobie's tryna trap you (consensually ofc), explicit language (as always), and as always, I probably missed some...

Word Count: 2.7k...it's just a little dribble

Tags: @inmyheadimobsessed @shurislover @6-noir @ihearttish @vampzxi @verachii @phantomof-themcu @taiiunknown @sapphicvqmpires @pocketsizedpanther @oceean @venusdraco-deactivated20230701

A/N: Kinda proof-read, kinda not, if you find any mistakes, no ya didn't

“Move ya hand, doll-”

The silver hoop pierced through Hobie’s lower lip rolled into his mouth, pinched hard between his teeth. His smirk ran deep through the canyons that outlined his lips and the corners of his nose; canyons that continued through the valley that outlined his pecs and separated his abs into their own cubicle. 

The sweat clinging to his dark skin glistened in the headlights of the cars passing outside your window and his abdomen tightened with the strain of restraint that he contained.

“Hobs, it won’t- It’s too-”

His lips puckered to shush you, and a sigh fell from yours. Your cunt clenched around nothing, though Hobie’s mushroom tip kissed your entrance, only pausing there due to your fingertips pushing at his lower abdomen. 

“You say this e’ry time, love, and e’ry time, it fits.”

His eyes were dark, glancing over your exposed body and torn suit. His thick fingers ripped your spider-suit to shreds, until your bouncing breasts were free and your dribbling hole quivered from the kiss of cold air.

 

You couldn’t help but notice every little detail of his face as his gaze ran along your curves. His chin shines, coated in your wetness and the flashback of his pierced tongue abusing your clit sends an electric shock through your body.

His lip ring is crooked, having been twisted over and over between his teeth and the ones above his eyebrow shift everytime his face falls into a pained frown. His thick locs stand every which way, having been tangled with your fingers while his large head sat between your thighs.

His expression was dark, the corners of his mouth curling while the rest of his face remained stoic. 

Hobie’s voice was deep and barely above a whisper, his head lowering until your foreheads pressed together. “Move ya hand,” he growled at you, lips barely cracking open fully until they found the spot just below your jaw and his teeth sank in.

Your mouth fell prettily, your plump lips forming a cute little ‘O’, your hands finding their way to the back of Hobie’s neck, burying him further into the crook of yours.

Your senses were flooded; Hob’s lips on your skin, nipping and kissing, his piercing tickling as it grazed your sensitive areas. Warmth spread through you, your walls stretching beyond capacity as your cunt swallowed him whole. 

“Shit, Hobie!” 

He thrust his thick cock between your legs, bottoming out until his pelvis kissed yours. All eight-plus inches sitting idle, stretching your tight cunt thin. Hobs didn’t dare move, giving you time to adjust while your chest rose and fell with deep breaths.

His came out in spurts, getting stuck deep in his chest everytime you pulled him in further. “Told you it’d fit-”

He swallowed his words the moment your tiny hand flew to close around his throat. Your dark brown eyes were wide, blown with lust. 

 “Fuck me, Hobs”

His chuckle shot through your system and a moan escaped his parted lips when you clenched around him as the vibrations from his laughter buried themselves deep within you.  “Inna minute, doll. It’ll tear you apart if I don’ give you a sec-” 

His voice trailed until his words were nonexistent. The collar around his neck that your hand had become tightened, narrowing his airway until the breaths he took became few and far inbetween. 

“Tear me apart then, Hobie-”

“Ya lil minx-”

You pushed Hobie away, a movement he wasn’t expecting, and both of you moan loudly as your cunt releases his swollen dick. You’re already missing the feel of him embedded between your walls. 

You sat on your knees, back turned to Hobie as the bed beneath you sunk with your movements. Hobie could do nothing but watch, mesmerized by the way your back curved into your ass, so plump and soft that he could sink into it. His gaze brought a burn so good as it ran down to your thick thighs, rubbing against each other at their center, the friction fraying what was left of your suit.

The bed shifted again when you fell to your forearms, behind sky-high and on perfect display for the man standing at attention behind you. 

Your suit tore further with the arch in your back, torso pressed into the sheets. Hobie watched, his hand wrapped around his cock, choking it at the base as your manicured fingers snaked around your body, grabbing at your cheeks and spreading them so perfectly until both of your holes were winking at him.

“Tear me apart, Hobie.” You left no room for argument, pushing your hips further and further back until your ass met his front.

Hobie’s brows rose, his smile straight devilish and his hands rose and fell back onto your ass with the sound of thunder. “Wha’ ‘appened to ‘it won’t fit’?” Once more, you could feel his tip line up with your cunt. He couldn’t resist sliding in just slightly; you were so fucking soaked. Slick covered your puffy lower lips, running down your inner thigh. Hobie was about to enter a slip and slide, and he ain’ even know it.

You were writhing beneath his touch, the heat from his body mixing with the heat with yours and turning your bedroom to a sauna. You couldn’t help the quiver in your hips when his dick did nothing more than run along the length of your pussy, spreading your lips and passing over your clit. 

The sexual frustration was killing you; it literally fucking hurt. “Hobs,” you mumbled, stretching his name out with a whine.

“Hmm?” 

His stupid voice was so damn smug. He loved watching you fall apart before him; whining sloppily, pussy drooling carelessly. He hadn’t even fucked you yet and there you lay, supple figure already putty beneath his fingers.

The very fingers that pressed hard against your hips, sinking into your flesh, gripping hard. 

“Hobie, quit playing with me.”

Hobie said nothing, still enjoying the feel of your body beneath his. He had plans to sit there and tease you as long as he wanted-

Yeah, fuck his plans. 

He didn’t anticipate you leaning forward, pulling your cunt away from the tease of his cum-coated tip. He couldn’t do a thing but watch curiously when you crawled to the other side of the bed on all fours, dropping slightly to reach over the edge and come back up with something heavy in your hands. 

“Wha’ you got there, love?”

This time it was you ignoring him, flipping back around, laying prettily with your back to the sheets and your legs in the air, spread as far apart as your joints would allow.

Hobie’s inhale was sharp, his mouth-watering.

Your head was thrown back, face to the ceiling, but eyes shut to the world. The room was still; the only noise coming through was that of the rain outside.

And then the buzzing started. 

The thick device in your hand vibrated viciously, drawing Hobie’s attention to the little thing as you brought it down further and further. 

“You wouldn’t-”

But you would. And you did. Hobie stood in front of your bed, discarded for the toy pressed into your clit. 

“Oh, my- fuck!”

The rapid vibrations splashed the wetness coating your cunt in every direction and Hobs watched your cum dribble into a forming puddle on the bed. 

It felt so fucking good; abusing your clit as Hobie watched. He’d wanted to be the one you came apart for; the one your pussy drooled for, but patience had never been your virtue and you had no time for his playful games. 

“You needed this nut that bad, love?”

You could only respond in a string of moans, in words that made no sense. 

The bed shifted once again, and suddenly, Hobie was next to you, lifting your body with ease. He sat with his back against the wall, lowering you into his lap until you could feel his pulsing cock against the small of your back.

Your legs remained apart, like magnets that repelled each other and the pressure of the vibrations against your bud intensified when Hobie’s hand covered yours and pressed the toy against you harder. 

“H-hob-”

He chuckles at your quite pathetic attempt to cry out his name. “You wanted this nut, baby. Lemme help you get it.”

The tension building in your lower abdomen was fucking fierce. Hobie knew immediately, with the way your moans climbed octaves and your breathing became shallow.

He thought he’d be helping by plunging two fingers deep into your cunt, right where you wanted his cock to be. 

All it did was draw you closer to the edge. His fingertips were plunging against the spongy part of your walls, feeling them clench around him.

“That’s a good girl-”

His growled praises were met with shrill gasps. 

“Fuck- Hob- Hobs, I’m-”

Something within Hobie was fueled at the sight of you so close, at the sounds of you about to come undone, right beneath him, all over his hand. 

The faster and harder he pumped his fingers into your hot center, the more of your cum he collected in his palm. It was sticky, running between the fingers he wasn’t using on you and his mouth watered, wanting so badly to get a taste.

“Ya close, doll?”

“I-I’m c-c-close,” you dragged the word out between clenched teeth.

“Ya gonna cum?”

“Y-yeah, Hobs-”

Hobie removed the hand still guiding yours that had the vibrator pressed into your swollen clit and pushed it into your lower stomach instead, right where your abdomen met your pelvis.

Immediately, the wetness that worked around his fingers grew, until splashing was all that could be heard with your moans. The cum poured out of you, squirting onto your sheets and Hobie’s long legs, soaking your inner thighs and Hobie’s hand.

The hand that didn’t let up on pumping into you, despite you already coming undone all over them. 

“H-hobs, oh my God!”

“It’s me,” Hobie growled right into your ear, his breath tickling the delicate space. “I’m ya god-”

Your high was ending, and slowly you came crashing back to Earth. His fingers slowed their pace but didn’t stop completely and they flinched a bit within you when your hand stung his arm. “Shut up,” you sighed out with relief, finally having gotten the nut that you’d wanted for days. 

Your cunt released Hobie’s fingers with a squelch and a moan from both  parties. He moved them to hook underneath your thighs, lifting you in the air just slightly while he lined himself up with your center. 

The damn thing was pulsing, tip thick and swollen, already shining with precum. Hobie smiled with pride when a pretty moan escaped your lips at the sight of it.

“My turn, yeah?”

His tip buried itself within you with ease, your wetness acting like a lubricant as he slipped almost entirely in. 

“Y-yeah, Hobs-”

Your verbal ‘yes’ was all he needed. He couldn’t wait anymore, having watched you fall apart like that. He knew he wouldn’t last long; he was holding back just enough, so that he could bury his cum deep in your womb. 

He wouldn’t mind a little Hobie Jr. or Hobie-ette walking around, and the idea of seeing you, belly swollen with his DNA-

Ugh, the thought made his dick twitch hard as he lowered you onto it, stretching you to full capacity until your ass sat flush against his pelvis.

“Fuckin’ hell, love-” Hobie’s voice was strained, his torso tight. “Ya so fuckin’ tight-”

He was always vocal during sex, and it always melted you underneath his touch. This time was no different; the feel of Hobie distending you, the way his dick buried itself in your stomach, God, you almost came again right then and there.

“Shit, Hobs-”

“Can I move?”

Your locs swung with the nod of your head and Hobie took that chance to remind you of your manners.

His teeth were sharp, digging into the crevice where your neck ran and became shoulder. He didn’t let up until the taste of iron landed on his tongue and he quickly licked away the flash of scarlet beading on your skin. 

A slow hiss drew from your lungs, as he licked away at the pain he caused until it became pleasure.

“Use ya words, baby girl.”

“God dammit, Hobie!”

“‘Hobie dammit, Hobie’ is kinda a redundant statement, love, don’t ya-”

He couldn’t help but trail away at his words when your body began moving on its own, lifting off his cock until just the tip remained and coming back down on it with a bounce.

His back pressed into the wall hard, bracing himself for the repeat action. 

Once more, twice more, thrice more it came; your ass clapping hard against his stomach with his cock imbedding itself further into your womb with each bounce. 

“Fuck me, Hobie!” You were screeching and begging, and you truly didn’t care. 

Hobs reached around, trapping both your wrists in his own large hands. You had no choice but to relinquish control over to the spider, and you did so without a fight.

“With pleasure, love-”

Those were Hobie’s last words before he threw your body off his cock, only to bring you back onto it with vigor. The sounds of clapping and wetness and whines and moans bounced off the walls and echoed back into the room, for sure being heard by your flatmate in her bedroom across the hall. 

A thick white ring was collecting at the base of Hobie’s cock, stretching along the length of his shaft everytime you rose and fell back onto it. 

“Fuck Hobs, fuck, fuck!”

Your head tilted back, curly locs dangling in Hobie’s face with an ache that burned in both your shoulders. 

“Fuck, baby-” The end of Hobie’s words curled upwards, floating through the air and straight to your ears. “Ya can’t keep squeezing me like that-” 

His words were hard, his vocal cords tight. Every part of his body was clenched as he willed back the impending orgasm that was begging to get past his tip.

“F-fuck, I c-can’t help it-”

You were shaking, a writing mess atop Hobie. Both your thighs were slick with wetness that splashed each and everytime your bodies made contact with one another. 

“You’re gonna make me cum doll, and I won’t have time to pull out-”

Hobie’s dick was disappearing within you and reappearing with a bulge that outlined your abdomen. The ridge of the veins lining his shaft curved within you so sinfully.

“God, Hobie, don’t. D-don’t pull out-”

Hobie’s brows furrowed even further, a pained frown sitting upon his face. His already merciless thrusts became harsher, drilling you at a speed you knew only Hobie could achieve. “You want my seed in you? I could get you pregnant with words like that.” He pulled your wrists back, further forming the arch in your back until your body was crescent-like. 

Your moans were beyond understanding at this point; your tongue forming a language only you and Hobie spoke. “G-get me pregnant, Hobs-”

Hobie’s eyes darkened, his cunning grin spreading from ear to ear. “Eh?” His torso left the wall, his face right beside your ear as he whispered into it. “You want my babies, love?”

He knew your response before you could verbalize it, your clenching around him was his answer already. A deep, lengthy groan left his open mouth and you could feel his dick jump within you. 

“Want me to get you pregnant?”

You could feel the warmth begin to pool between your thighs. Hobie’s cock was already leaking, his restraint broken. 

“Ya tryna be my baby mama?” Hobie groaned as though it pained him.

“Fill me up, Spider.”

Your verbal consent was all Hobie ever needed. Within the next second he was emptying his balls in your pussy, just as you’d asked. It was warm and thick, and your cunt was coated in it. The pressure within you grew to be too much and your own release came soon after, mixing your cum with Hobie’s as it trickled around his dick, still pulsating within you.

Hobie released your arms, allowing your back to fall against his chest with a relaxed breath while his cock stayed buried deep inside you, ensuring none of his seed went wasted. 

His lips pressed delicate kisses into your neck, your back, and shoulder with praises falling from them. 

You sighed into his touch with his arms wrapped around your torso, resting gently on your lower abdomen. 

Silence fell over the two of you like a warm blanket and you relished in the feeling before Hobie opened his mouth and ruined it.

“I think we should name him Lil’ Hobie-”

“Absolutely not.”

[orbital-inclination]

I requested more of the scenario Molt meeting og nightmare

I'm sorry for the wait anon! For a change of pace, you get a one-shot this time! word count: 3411 general content warning for canon typical violence and angst.

------------

Something grainy, like gravel and sand, crunched under the soles of his boots as he shuffled back a step. One looping tendril made contact with a roughly cut boulder behind him. The height of the stone reached his hip. Clumsily, he ran his phalanges along its surface. He stepped around it and stopped once he stood on the south side, uncertain of how to proceed from there.

It was rare that he found himself in a space so wide open without someone nearby. He’d like to think he was better at navigating now than he had been when he was younger. Yet, regardless of how much time passed, he could never seem to quite outgrow the sudden spike of anxiety he felt whenever he entered a space that seemed... empty.

 He didn’t know what he was walking towards or away from. He could be approaching a canyon for all he knew.

A steady, lonely wind howled above him. It caught the tail of his tunic and the fabric slapped against his side. Something rustled in the distance. 

The wind turned cold. 

Ley lines of magic, negative and positive, wrapped around this world in a vast net of ever-shifting ripe tides. Instinct had directed him to follow the nearest positive swell but now he felt it move again. Bending as though to make way. Just as suddenly as the air had turned cold, a well opened up, and negativity cascaded down the pit and condensed into a single point of black frost. 

A shiver ran down his spine. “Nightmare…?”

Something about Rem’s magic didn’t feel right—

“How unlike you to make the first move. Was it not enough for you to…” his brother’s voice trailed off. “You are not my brother.” 

No... no he was not. Rem’s magic felt cold, but not this cold. Though, the undercurrent of bitterness was painfully familiar. 

“… the sentiment is mutual,” Molt murmured. He steadied himself on the boulder behind him. Silently, he tried to gauge the other’s intent.

An air of suspicion and curiosity rolled underneath the cold. He had the sense he was also being appraised.

“And yet, you are Dream.”

He did not sound—did not feel happy about that.

“If it were not impossible, I would wager you were from a divergent timeline.”

“Our world had only one timeline,” Molt confirmed cautiously. His voice remained low. “… it’s tied to the multiverse itself. No resets. Just the one.”

“Ah, so you are informed,” his brother's voice mocked. “Your presence here suggests a paradox, then. For all my searching, I have never met another iteration of us who could breach the confines of their AU on their own. It seemed there was some law restricting the role of Guardian to Two.”

He nodded because that more or less described the situation back home. With a renewed sense of scrutiny, Nightmare said, “Can I assume then, that instead of your brother, you were the one who bit the apple?”

And Molt stalled. The question was so direct. It felt a bit like a verbal slap to the face. 

Nightmare hummed. “I see. That expression you’re making... It makes sense for my alternative self to have other motives if you are like this yourself.” He heard the grin in his tone, even if he could not see it. “Tell me, Dream. What do you say to adding to that collection of yours?” He— he couldn’t be serious. 

“In this multiverse, you have the opportunity to increase your power. If you collect the last apple from my brother, perhaps we can reach an agreement.”

His mouth felt suddenly dry. He had to consciously still his tentacles to keep them from lashing defensively.

“You… you want me to kill my counterpart.”

He struggled to wrap his mind around that. Less so the threat itself and more so that it was Nightmare who was asking him to do it. He felt sick.

His brother’s alternate rumbled a low laugh. “It would not be difficult for you. You dwarf him in raw power. I’m confident you could easily subdue him... Ah, but I see I cannot convince you. The thought distresses you. A pity.”

Gravel and sand crunched underfoot. The sound came quietly. “ … hmm just as I thought, you are blind.”

“...what are you doing?” 

Nightmare was amused by the question. Dread washed over him. Nightmare had been speaking to him civilly until that point, and while this mirror of his brother gave off an ambient feeling of danger, he had not taken the feeling as seriously as he should have. 

“I am considering what to do with you. Since it seems you are reluctant to cooperate. But you would be of a dull mind not to suspect that already. If you are anything like the thorn I have in my side now, I’m sure you will quickly surmise why I simply cannot let your existence go unchecked.” 

Molt slowly shuffled a step back. 

“… where do you think you will escape to? Are you even aware of what is behind you?”

Molt froze.

He sensed no one behind him but— the subtle rustle of fabric. A step was taken closer and it dawned on him that Nightmare had been trying to distract him.

Molt’s hearing was keen. It had to be. He learned to rely on it when sensing nearby emotions, and the flow of positive and negative wasn’t enough. But his haptic memory was better, and with one tentacle brushing against the boulder behind him, he knew which side he stood on and which direction he originally came from. 

He darted around the boulder, squarely placing it between himself and Nightmare. His brother’s alternate self stood still, contemplative and mildly surprised. 

“Hm. You cannot see, and yet you are able to pinpoint my position. Interesting.” 

Molt didn’t feel like providing a reply.

Nightmare didn’t move for a width of time that felt like years. And then, he vanished. The cold sucked out of the air in a blip of distorted space-time.

Alarm seized him. Given no time to think, he picked direction and distance at random and took a shortcut through. As he felt his bones materialize in reality again, a dense frame of cold magic solidified where he had stood seconds prior.

Displeasure radiated off of Nightmare in waves. “Come now. Don’t run. It’s unbecoming. We can discuss the terms of your departure from this world with maturity.”

Molt shivered. “Don’t. I would return to my reality if I knew how.”

“Then allow me to assist you,” Nightmare said, and the malice in his words sent needles crawling up his spine. He vanished again in a wash of cold. Molt leaped back, grasping at the nearest tide of positivity to carry him away.

He found his feet again on the sand. The sudden incline made him stumble. The seconds it took to catch his balance nearly cost him. A frustrated growl and the sensation of ice to his right was the only warning he had before a sharp object whistled past his skull. He teleported again and Nightmare followed. 

“Enough! Cease this childishness.” The burning cold struck his side. Molt tumbled to the ground. He rolled, gasping in pain, and launched himself to the side. “Stop! I don’t want to fight you.” A loud crack sounded where he’d just been. Gravel pelted his arm. 

“Then what happens next is your own fault,” His brother’s voice snarled.

He took another shortcut. Aiming north of the dense vortex of cold desperately trying to put some distance between himself and his brother’s counterpart. He needed that distance to escape this AU. If he attempted the jump too close to Nightmare he might unintentionally drag him along, or Nightmare would be able to sense where he went and this fight would never end. The temperature plummeted. In a split second, a cold tendril snapped around his middle. And then he was flung. His body hit the ground once, twice, and his skull was knocked against something hard. 

A hiss shuddered through his ribcage. Molt clenched his teeth as the world spun, attempting to swallow back the sound. 

“You brought this on yourself, Dream.” 

Gravel and sand crunched at a steady pace. Malice approached slowly. 

He struggled to push himself upright. The ground beneath him swayed dangerously. His tendrils lashed, writhing in defense of their host. But the ground beneath him lurched, his arms buckled, and the ground swung up to meet the side of his skull again. 

His soul pulsed so fast and hard in his chest, he thought he was going to be sick. 

“Poetic, isn’t it? I wonder... did the same desperation drive you?”

Cold wrapped around him and slammed his back into a hard, stone wall. 

Claws dug into his jaw, roughly pinning his skull to the stone slab behind him. A strained hiss tore from his bared teeth. He found the strength to wrestle one arm free and dug his claws into the wrist pinning his head down. Nightmare’s strength didn’t waver, but an involuntary noise rattled through him, a jolt that was close enough to a flinch to be nothing else. 

Faintly, Molt felt the phantom echo of a hot brand race up Nightmare’s arm, starting from where his claws dug into his wrist.

“W-why are you doing this? I am not from your timeline, so why?”

“The distinction is irrelevant,” the grip on his jaw tightened. “This fate, it’s the least you deserve. For everything you put me through. For every day I was left to defend myself while you selfishly basked in undeserved praise.” 

Exhaustion crept into his limbs. He felt weaker and heavier by the second.

“Would you have always resented me?” Molt gasped out. “If things had been different... If our lives had been better—”

Nightmare barked out a bitter laugh. “Even as you are now, you are naive. No. I cannot imagine a world where I did not hate you. For us, no other outcome was possible.” Molt flinched. “... you doubt me? Do you actually believe my alternate self doesn’t resent you?” 

The knife in his heart gave a sharp lurch. It would make sense... wouldn’t it. For all he hadn’t done, who wouldn’t resent him? 

“N-Night...”

“You neglected your responsibilities, Dream. You were selfish. I’ve always wondered if you had known what I stood to lose that day. If you had known what they had planned to do—” “Nightmare!” Molt snapped. He was terrified, his soul shook, and he was painfully cold. “That was my home too!” Something snapped. He felt the abrupt, quaking shift in Nightmare’s demeanor. Rage colored all rational thought. Molt didn’t know what he intended to do and he didn’t have time to think about it. That rage solidified into a single, sharp tool. Malice soaked the thing so vividly, he could almost see it. A serrated bone dagger.

Molt jerked his head to the side, the claws on his jaw slipped, and something sharp and blisteringly cold scraped the side of his skull.

He might have blacked out for a few seconds. He couldn’t be sure. One moment, his vision was black. Then it was white. He’d yanked a tentacle free in the next. A resounding crack thundered through the stone lab behind him. Nightmare’s grip on his head slipped, caught off guard. Molt kicked his shin, and as Nightmare staggered, snarling, he flash-stepped out of immediate reach. 

A safe distance away he sank to the ground. 

Head swimming, he lifted a shaky hand to the side of his skull. He felt bone. The dry, clean surface of a malar bone. The muddy, blurred shape of his palm swam in and out of focus. 

Nightmare stood very still for a long moment. His emotions felt stunted and Molt could not identify the feeling that had rendered him so still. Moments ago, Nightmare had been content to hurt him in every possible way.

“Get up,” Nightmare said. And he couldn’t identify the emotion behind that command either. It felt like anger but brittle. “I said get up!”

A tremble racked through his body. He felt a forbidden spark of anger ignite in his throat and shakily rose to his feet.

As he slowly lifted his gaze, palm still pressed to the side of his skull, he saw black tar and went still. 

It was one thing to guess the shape of the magic that had tossed him around the field like a rag doll, but it was another thing entirely, to see it.

The ground felt like it was tilting. Nightmare was taking too long to respond. And though he hid it well, he was clearly in pain. Head swimming. Pounding. Red-hot needles. Nausea pricked through his brother’s bones.

Nightmare took one step closer. Molt flinched back, and a bitter smile crawled over his brother’s teeth—

“NOT SO FAST!”

A sharp ping. His vision was eclipsed in hazy blue. Before Molt could blink, he found himself yanked to the side, several feet away.

He was released, gently at that, and stumbled once as gravity resumed its normal weight. The world erupted in a cacophony of noise. With color and light sloshing together, it was difficult to make out shape and form, but the stirring magic immediately in front of him was familiar.

“Blue?” Molt whispered, but like Nightmare his magic felt just slightly off. The hope in his soul withered. He was surrounded by strangers.

“MWEH HEH HEH FEAR NOT STRANGE INTERDIMENSIONAL CITIZEN! WE ARE HERE TO SAVE THE DAY. NIGHTMARE! YOU WILL NOT GET AWAY WITH THIS!”

Whatever his brother’s mirror said in reply it was drowned out by noise.

“Wait.”

But his voice was too low. Too quiet. And his plea went ignored.

Too much happened at once after that. The Swap Sans launched himself into the fight. Light. Movement. A flash of white. Bones summoned then shattered by the furious sweep of a black arm. Nightmare’s strength was weakening. The balance had tipped. And battling three by himself? Nightmare couldn’t keep this up for much longer.

Most of the fight happened too fast for his barely stable eyelight to track.

So he did what he always did when the world around him became too chaotic to follow. He reached for the cold pitch of his brother’s magic. 

He followed the current of cold as it funneled into a singular point. Pushed back, and back again by a burning white star. Hope. Concentration. Concern for the other, yet the courage to see his actions through to the end. The familiarity of the magic here was disconcerting. But his head already ached something awful and he didn't think his nausea could get much worse. The phantom lashes he’d endured at Nightmare’s hand still burned. But... Nightmare. He felt his twin’s exhaustion, felt the unsteady slip to his heel, and his alternate was closing in now and—

The shortcut was rough. Poorly executed. And finding his balance on the balls of his feet was not fun. He raised his arm defensively, anticipating the attack seconds before, and found his hand closing around the pole of a golden staff. It smacked into his palm with a solid clank. It hurt only a little bit. His own magic absorbed the brunt of the blow to feed itself. To lessen some of his own pain. And staring into the wide eyes of his own face was... 

Dizzying. 

Everything was dizzying. 

That startled look melted into one of fear, and it didn’t make sense. His own rib cage hitched, sharing that fear second hand and then it dawned on him how this might look. Oh. He thought. …oh.

He released his counterpart's weapon and yanked his hand back. The other skeleton flash stepped out of reach, his soul pulsing with the rhythm of a terrified rabbit.

Within the pool of frigid cold at his back, he felt a spark of something that felt suspiciously like gratitude. Nightmare struggled to stand for a moment, winded, then laughed. The sound was not pleasant. “Recklessness must be a universal trait.”

“That’s enough,” Molt rasped. “Please. Just stop…”

“You should have taken my offer when you had the chance,” Nightmare sneered, words bitting. But more than anything, they felt defensive. The darkness pinched into a small, black star, and then he was gone.

“I SEE. WAS I MISTAKEN THEN? ARE YOU AND NIGHTMARE ALLIES?” Blue had taken a defensive stance beside his teammate. His weapon was drawn, but he didn’t move yet. His soul hummed with grim focus. The suspicion hurt. 

Molt struggled to speak for several precious seconds. Unsettled. He was reeling from the fight, from everything he had learned about this reality and the cruelty of his brother's words and actions and he was trying ever so hard not to let a tremble snake its way into his voice. It was very hard... to hear someone say those awful things in Rem’s voice.

He shook his head and said softly. “We aren’t.”

Blue’s brow furrowed. “THEN, WHY DID YOU DEFEND HIM? 

The words ‘because he is my brother?’ were on the edge of his teeth but the hostile edge to Blue’s magic and tone made him pause. It was less a question and more of an accusation. And that answer wouldn’t have been exactly true besides. 

The tendril on his back coiled defensively. 

He hadn’t stopped to think before he leapt in front of Nightmare. It hadn’t been a “should I or shouldn’t I” situation in his mind. In that moment he was unable to look past the pain and hurt his brother’s mirror was experiencing. In that moment, the distinction didn’t matter. He had to put a stop to it, that’s all. He couldn’t fight his brother. In any form he took. He just couldn’t do it. It reminded him of too much. And he couldn’t stand to watch that either. 

But how could he possibly explain that? 

A step behind his teammate, Dream was trying to calm down. Blue’s presence helped but he was struggling. Molt took a step back. He was causing someone pain and distress. He didn’t want that. Blue’s stance shifted. Bracing.

That felt like betrayal too. Molt swallowed something bitter behind his teeth and tried not to think of it that way. Ignored that small part of him that hissed and felt a little bit angry. It didn’t make sense. He knew the person in front of him wasn’t his friend.

“FRIEND, I WANT TO GIVE YOU THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT BUT... YOU ARE ACTING SUSPICIOUSLY.”

“I’ll leave,” Molt said. His head was pounding, and the last thing he wanted was to be dragged into another fight. “Wait...” Dream took a breath. “You’re hurt. Stay for a minute, let’s talk.” “DREAM IS RIGHT, POTENTIAL ENEMY OR NOT, IT WOULDN’T BE RIGHT TO LEAVE YOU THIS WAY. NOT TO FEAR HOWEVER, I AM ALWAYS PREPARED!” “It’s okay. I don’t need candy,” Molt said and felt vaguely like he was reading the lines of a script. If Rem or any of the others were here, they’d be calling his bluff. “Then, what do you need?”

“Somewhere calm, with hope. That’s all.”

The two exchanged a look. Surprise, suspicion, resignation, dread. “I SEE. SO YOU ARE LIKE DREAM THEN. BUT SURELY THAT'S NOT ENOUGH. I... I CANNOT SEEM TO CHECK YOU FOR SOME REASON, BUT YOU DO NOT LOOK WELL.”

Blue seemed to ask to Dream something silently. Concern. Suspicion. Acceptance. Dream sighed. “I know somewhere. It’ll be okay. We’ll be keeping an eye on him together, right? The place I’m thinking of is isolated so...”

“IT’S SETTLED THEN.” he finally dismissed his weapon, and Molt felt the tendrils on his back slowly lower. “SO THEN, NEW FRIEND, WHAT DO YOU SAY TO A TRUCE? WILL YOU COME WITH US?”

He gauged their intent for a moment. Rem had sometimes remarked that his empathy made him gullible. But Molt was tired, and sore, and aching. The others weren’t here. And he let them make decisions for him too much anyway. He hated to admit it but Nightmare was right. Dream wasn’t a physical threat to him. He was scared and trying so hard to be brave, and Molt was trying equally hard not to feel rattled.

“Okay,” he said.

Blue made a noise, something between acknowledgment and mild confusion. Dream offered a strained smile. He supposed they had a lot of questions.

[thomaswaynewolf]

[jinxedruby]

Whumptober Day Seven: Only for Emergencies

Featuring Twilight, Time, and Legend.

I'm sure Fierce Deity stuff is going to be a very common interpretation of this prompt, but I won't let that stop me lol

Heads up for major injury (mostly descriptions of pain) in this one.

AO3

First part | <- Previous part | Next part ->

-------------------------------

Dust plumed up beneath Twilight’s boots, pebbles scattering as he skid around a sharp bend in the narrow valley between cliffs. Legend spat out a curse and he glanced back, heart slamming against his ribs. Time grabbed hold of Legend’s arm, hauling him up from where he’d tripped. He dragged the collector forward a few steps until Legend regained his footing.

A whistle and flash of heat streaked past Twilight’s ear. He flinched and whipped around, lifting his bow and drawing back the string with cramping fingers. His hand shook as he aimed at yet another bulblin archer that had appeared on one of the clifftops overhead, volleying fire arrows down at the three heroes. His shot hit its mark, the bulblin howling weakly before toppling forward and plummeting to the ground below. Twilight bolted forward again, hopping over the bulblin’s body as he passed, Time and Legend close behind. The path twisted and forked. Twilight hurriedly glanced each way before veering left on the trail leading out of the cliffs. The constant thunder of footfalls behind them never ceased and never faded. Only the narrow canyon they ran through kept them from being surrounded by the horde of monsters, but with more and more monsters figuring out how to scale the cliffs and attack them from above, they needed somewhere with more cover.

Twilight slowed to shoot another archer overhead. He fell into a sprint the moment the shot hit, the muscles in his legs burning with the overexertion. He rounded a bend and skidded to a halt. A large monster blocked the path forward. It had the body of a horse, but instead of a head, an entire torso stood at its front. The man-like arms and abdomen gave way to a beast-like head, with a full mane and curved horns.

“What is-” Twilight cut off with a grunt as Time and Legend ran into him from behind, nearly knocking all three of them over. He threw a glance at them to see if either of them recognized the monster. Time scrutinized it with a narrowed eye. The color drained from Legend’s face.

“Back, back, go back!” Legend yelled. He pushed Time back a step, grabbing Twilight’s arm at the same time to yank him backwards.

The monster tensed, sucking in a deep breath. Twilight twisted and bolted after Time and Legend. Just as they careened around the bend, heat blasted across Twilight’s back. He yelped, glancing back to see a massive fireball roar past and slam into the cliff wall, narrowly missing him. A large, black scorch mark marred the rock where the flames impacted. His heart lodged in his throat and he whipped his head back around, a jolt of fear fueling his legs. They reached the fork and took the other path leading deeper into the cliffs. As they passed by it, Twilight caught a glimpse of the monsters choking the trail they’d come by originally. Screeches and whoops rose from the horde, joining the percussion of their pounding footsteps. Bizarrely, memories of herding goats into the barn back at the ranch flashed through his mind. It made him feel sick.

The canyon widened as the three charged through it, the cliffs growing taller around them. Smudges of dull green appeared on the clifftops silhouetted against the sky. Twilight lifted his bow again, struggling to keep his aim steady and run at the same time. The string snapped across the raw flesh of his fingers, sending a sharp sting through them. Somehow, he hit his mark, the bulblin falling from its perch. He reached for another arrow. A hand wrapped around his wrist, yanking him forward.

“Just run!” Time shouted, pulling him along.

Twilight flicked his tongue over his lips, casting an anxious glance up at the archers. He looked over his shoulder and his heart jolted when he saw the horde in sight, closer than they’d ever been. He cursed breathlessly and spurred his legs on faster, catching up to where Legend had pulled ahead of him. Time sped up as well, running just ahead. Twilight’s gaze kept darting up to the archers. They fired down at the heroes, fire arrows streaking past them and striking against the cliff walls and ground. Twilight’s hand itched for his bow but if he slowed to shoot the archers, the horde would overtake him. He ground his teeth, stifling a frustrated cry between them. The arrows could meet their mark at any moment, could debilitate one or more of them and prevent them from running, could strike true and kill them instantly, could-

The next time his gaze darted to the archers, his gut twisted. The flames licking the arrowheads were visible on most, but some arrowheads appeared gray and bulbous. He snatched an arrow out of his quiver. Time shouted something at him as he took aim. He tried not to slow as he fired. The bulblin loosed its arrow simultaneously. The projectiles met midair. An explosion split the sky overhead, the sound slamming against his ears and bouncing wildly between the canyon walls. Twilight pumped his arms, dashing to make up for the distance he’d lost. Breath ragged in his throat, he quickly scanned the archers again, searching for any other bomb arrows. He spotted one, shot at it in the same manner as the last. He managed to kill the bulblin before it could fire. His arm burned from the strain of drawing his bow over and over again, sweat stinging in the raw flesh of his fingers. He flapped his hand to get the cramp out as he continued to run. He almost tripped over some uneven ground, hardly able to take his gaze off of the archers. They wouldn’t need to make a direct hit if they had bomb arrows. He couldn’t let that happen.

Another archer down, a sharp sting as a small divot of skin ripped away with the bowstring. Another shout of warning from Time as he fell too far behind again. He nocked another arrow, searching the clifftops, adding a burst of speed to his legs to catch up to the others. He spotted the next one too late. It fired the bomb as he yanked the bowstring back. But the bulblin hadn’t fired at them. An explosion tore through the air and he snapped his gaze forward. The arrow had impacted against a natural bridge that formed between the clifftops overhead. Roaring and rumbling continued past the explosion and he realized with horror that the bulblin had collapsed the bridge. Rocks and dirt rained down as the cracks spread rapidly. Directly over where Time and Legend were about to run under.

“Guys, move!” Twilight roared. With speed he didn’t know he had, he closed the distance between them. He lunged forward and shoved them both out of the way. Roaring filled his ears, making his teeth rattle. Time and Legend looked back at him with horror. Something crushed Twilight on all sides all at once, slamming him forward into the ground and hurling him into darkness.

****

A high-pitched whine rang incessantly. Pain and pressure swelled in a raucous symphony, screeching along every nerve in his body, peaking at a crescendo in his legs. The side of his face felt plastered to the ground, something wet and warm pooling under his head and mixing with the dirt. He tried to drag in a thin breath. Something solid raked down his throat instead of air. He coughed, harsh but weak. Dust and dirt spewed from his mouth and nose, clearing airways he didn’t even realize had been blocked. Once he started he couldn’t stop, even as pain streaked like fire through his ribs and organs. He tried to open his eyes but they burned horribly and he couldn’t see. He brought a hand to his eyes, somewhat surprised that he could, and swiped at the dirt caked across them. He found his arm to be the only thing he could move, everything below his middle immobilized and blind with pain.

Rubbing his eyes just made them hurt more. Weakly, despite the dryness of his mouth, he jammed his fingers in and smeared some spit onto his eyes in an attempt to wash the dust away. The saliva mixed with the dirt into a muddy mess that caked onto his skin. But it became easier to wipe away and, after repeating the process a couple more times, he managed to clear away enough that he could pry his eyelids apart.

They stung horribly, each flick of his eyes driving thorns of agony into his brain. The world appeared in a blurry mess before him, indecipherable shapes darting about his vision. He tried to drag in a deeper breath, only to trigger another weak coughing fit. Muffled sounds grew beneath the deafening ringing, and he vaguely recognized the timbres of human shouts and monster cries. He weakly rubbed his eyes again, black splotches marring his already bleary vision. It cleared enough to see two blobs, one red and one silver, darting back and forth somewhere in front of him. More shapes moved beyond and around them, shooting toward them, spinning away, falling still.

He gathered more saliva on his fingers and rubbed his eyes again. His fingers tasted like blood. His vision cleared enough to make out Time run to defend Legend’s back against an approaching monster. He cut it down, the two continuing to fight as more and more monsters surged toward them. A roar rumbled through the air, vibrating in Twilight’s chest. Time’s and Legend’s heads both snapped to look down the canyon. Time wrenched Legend aside by the arm, the two of them diving to the side. A fireball collided with the cliff wall a moment later, close enough that Twilight could feel the dry heat rush over his face. The sensation brought to attention again the sheer agony his legs had become. A cracking cry scratched its way out of his throat. He clenched a hand as lightheadedness swept over him, pressing his forehead to the ground and screwing his eyes shut. Reality itself seemed to waver around him, his entire world narrowing down to the pain overcoming him.

A horrendous, gut-wrenching scream tore through the air.

He pried his eyelids open again. A wave of power that he felt on some unseeing level pulsed over him. He fell as still as he could, each breath still hitching in his throat. He could somewhat make out the horde of monsters beyond where Time and Legend had been. A tall, pale figure streaked toward it, sprinting into the fray. For a moment, he thought it was Time, but he couldn’t see the gold that Time’s armor normally had. The figure plowed through the horde, monsters screeching as they fell under its blade. Twilight thought the figure may have sounded like Time, but his thoughts fizzled and slipped from his grasp, heavy drowsiness filling his head.

He must have passed out for a few moments because Legend appeared before him between one blink and the next. Twilight tried to speak but the words turned into harsh coughs.

Legend dropped to his knees before him, eyes wide. “Holy shit, you’re still alive, oh goddess…”

Twilight tried to speak but couldn’t calm the coughing fit. The coughs sounded more like wheezes, his throat burning with dust and dirt he couldn’t clear. Something pressed to his lips, a hand on his jaw helping his head tilt up off the ground. Water trickled into his mouth, mixing with the dust into an unpleasant sludge with a gritty taste. He tried to swallow anyway, if only to get some of the dust out of his throat, but ended up coughing it back up. The hand and canteen withdrew. His head dropped to the ground again, cheek pressed into the dirt as he hacked weakly. He thought he heard Legend say something, but the words slid from his mind before he could process their meaning. Abruptly, water splashed over his eyes. He winced back, the motion sparking a fresh flash of pain through him. Soon enough, he realized what Legend was trying to do, and he reached up to rub his eyes again. The water removed most of the grime and when he opened his eyes again, only the pain and lack of air blurred his vision. His eyelids still felt gritty, burning whenever he looked around, but he could see much better than before.

“Hey, Rancher, you with me?” Legend said, voice trembling. He rested a hand against Twilight’s shoulder as Twilight struggled to look up at him, eyelids fluttering.

“Ye-yeah,” Twilight managed, voice rough, throat stinging.

“Okay.” Legend’s tongue darted across his lips. He glanced at something behind Twilight, toward the rancher’s legs. “Okay. You- um, can- can you feel your… your legs?”

“H-hurts,” Twilight whispered, unable to get enough air to speak much louder than that.

“But you can feel them,” Legend confirmed. Twilight honestly couldn’t differentiate much of his body below his waist with how much agony rent through every single nerve, but he couldn’t figure out how to put the feeling to words with the dizziness plaguing him. He managed a nod. Legend sighed. “Okay. Okay, good. Uh- l-listen, Rancher, there’s… all those rocks and everything collapsed on you. You’re- y-you… I can’t see- I can’t see how much damage it did, everything below your waist is totally covered.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed as he took in the words, struggling to keep a hold on them until the meaning processed. He nodded slowly.

“I have power bracelets but I don’t know if it’s enough to- or- or if it’s safe to move the debris and- and shit. S-so- so, um…”

Twilight’s gaze drifted away from Legend as the collector rambled, loosely tracking the pale figure charging through the monster horde. Now that he could see more clearly, he could make out the strange blue long sword that the figure wielded. White arcs of light catapulted from the sword with each swing, carving through the monsters like razors through flesh. The figure had thinned the horde all on his own, monsters strewn dead on the ground around him.

“Wh… where’s… Time?” Twilight rasped, interrupting Legend. He didn’t take his eyes off the figure.

Legend fell silent. He turned to follow Twilight’s gaze, watching the large white-haired figure in pale armor go into a spin attack and send ten enemies at once flying. As the figure turned, Twilight caught the briefest glimpse of his face. Red markings curved across both cheeks, a blue shape looping down the center of his forehead. Legend didn’t answer him. Twilight didn’t need him to.

“Let’s just- let’s just worry about you, right now,” Legend stammered, tearing his gaze away from the figure and turning his attention to Twilight again. He said something else but Twilight didn’t hear him, focus remaining fixed the figure. On Time.

“What’d ‘e… he do?”

“Rancher, please, I don’t- I don’t know, okay?” Legend stood and took a step to Twilight’s side. Twilight heard him grunt and a sizable rock sailed behind him, clattering to the ground. Another followed as Legend began scooping some of the rocks off the pile burying Twilight. “I don’t know, but I do know you’re still alive and we have to get you out of there before you suffocate.”

“What’d he do?” Twilight insisted.

“Something really fucking stupid!” Legend yelled, voice strained with stress and exhaustion. He turned and dropped a boulder nearly the size of his whole upper body on the ground beside him. “We thought you were dead. You weren’t breathing and we didn’t have time to really check before the monsters caught up. We fought for a bit but it was- we- we were clearly not going to win. Then he gave me this- this look.” Another boulder landed beside the first. Legend shoved them both away to give himself more room. “Told me to get out of here. Then he put something on his face and turned into that.”

Twilight’s heart stopped. Thought you were dead. His eyes followed the figure as it continued its rampage through the horde. He thinks I’m dead. All too easily, he could imagine the figure as the Shade, its one remaining eye blazing red. Unable to rid himself of past regrets, determined to train Twilight. To make sure I don’t die.

“We have to he…help him,” Twilight croaked.

Legend didn’t seem to have heard him, continuing to move rocks off of Twilight. He picked up one and Twilight felt something shift. Needles shredded his bones and he screamed, shoving his face into the dirt. Legend swore loudly. Twilight barely heard it over the muffled wailing of pain in his ears, blood roaring in his head and making the hairs on his arms stand on end. After what felt like an eternity, the pain subsided just enough for him to feel the hand on his shoulder.

“-alk to me, please, don’t you dare fucking die,” he heard Legend saying.

Twilight groaned and Legend let out a harsh exhale. He cracked his eyes open to see Legend kneeling before him, one hand braced on the ground to keep his balance. Twilight reached forward and wrapped his fingers around Legend’s wrist, dragging his eyes up to meet Legend’s wide-eyed gaze.

“H-help Time,” he said.

“We can’t- we need to help you, you’re in a lot more danger than he is, right now.”

“No,” Twilight stressed. “You don’ get it.”

“No, you’re not thinking straight,” Legend insisted, moving his hand from Twilight’s shoulder to grab his hand. “Your head’s bleeding, you’re trapped under goddess knows how much weight. Whatever’s got the old man isn’t letting go. There’s nothing we can do.”

Twilight looked past Legend to the white-haired Time. He’d cleared out nearly all of the monsters. Twilight wracked his brain as much as he could. If Time had some item with that level of power, surely he’d have mentioned something about it. Legend said he’d put something on his face. Twilight remembered Time showing off his mask collection that one night. He’d said something about them having power, hadn’t he? Demons? Or was that about Wild’s mask? Twilight’s head throbbed sharply and he groaned, letting his eyes fall shut. What could he do? If Time had been… possessed, or something, what could he do? He felt his consciousness fading and pried his eyes open again, narrowing them as he watched Time cut down the monsters.

“...before moving this?” Legend muttered to himself. Twilight dragged his gaze up to see Legend’s stricken expression. “No, no, I don’t know if there’s anything in his wounds, probably a bad idea. But maybe just so he doesn’t… argh, no, free him first, heal him later.”

Heal him. Twilight looked back at Time. Heal him how? He doubted a fairy would work. He hadn’t dealt with possession on his journey at all, just his own forced transformation and the twili denizens being mangled into beasts. They’d been healed with light but, as far as he could tell, he and the others were currently in a light world. There had to be something else. There had to be, he refused to believe his mentor would be lost here and now.

“Hey, Rancher,” Legend interrupted his train of thought. “I’m going to try getting you out again, okay? It’s probably going to hurt but I really can’t think of anything else. I’ve got a potion so I can heal you as soon as I get-”

“That song!” Twilight wheezed more than shouted.

“Wh-”

“A song I… I heard.” Twilight paused to rake in a breath, chest burning, black spots fizzling at the edges of his vision. He remembered howling a duet with the golden wolf on his journey. He remembered Time asking when he’d heard the rancher humming it to himself. “H-he said it… heals… spirits.”

Legend crouched before him again. “Rancher, what are you-”

“His masks,” Twilight wheezed. “Said he… used tha...that song… when he got tr...transformed on one of his… journeys. Healed him.”

Legend’s eyes widened. He looked back over his shoulder at Time.

“Please, Ve…Veteran.”

Legend pressed his mouth into a thin line. He glanced at Twilight then back at Time. Then he cursed softly, reaching into his bag. “What’s the song?”

Twilight blinked, not comprehending for a moment as Legend pulled an ocarina out of his pouch.

“The song, Rancher, I don’t know it, you’re gonna have to sing it, if you can.”

Twilight managed a nod. Fatigue weighed him down and he narrowed his eyes against it, dragging in as deep of a breath as he could. He hummed the song, three descending notes. He could barely even hear himself, his voice raspy and wobbling at each note. Legend brought the ocarina to his lips and quietly copied the tune. Somehow, he got it and Twilight gave him a tired nod.

Legend shook his head, turning to face where Time fought down the canyon. “This better work…” He took a deep breath and played the song, loud and clear. The notes rang out, echoing off the cliff walls. The figure stiffened, looking back toward Legend. Legend froze as the white-eyed gaze of the figure landed on him, breath stilling and ocarina falling silent.

“Rancher, I don’t think it’s working,” Legend rushed to say as the figure cut down a monster without taking his eyes off of Legend.

“Tr...try his.”

“His what? His ocarina? I don’t- I don’t think that’s going to make a difference.”

The figure began making his way toward them.

“His has… has power,” Twilight gasped. “Remem’er that… song he played an’ it… started raining?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, but the problem is that he currently has it!” Legend cried, scrambling to his feet as the figure continued to approach, slowed only by the straggling monsters. “I kind of doubt he’ll just hand it over to me!”

Twilight reached back for his pouches, hissing at the pain the motion caused. He gritted his teeth and reached anyway, feeling a mound of dirt in the way. He dug through it as Legend’s panic spread to him, heart thudding in his throat. His fingers hooked into his pouch and he pulled out one of his clawshots. He let out a gasp as he dropped it to the ground, the clatter drawing Legend’s attention. Legend stared at it for a moment before understanding dawned on his face, followed quickly by a pained expression.

“This is a horrible idea,” he said as he swept the clawshot off the ground. He fumbled with it for a moment, muttering something under his breath about a weird-looking hookshot. Then he aimed it at the pale-clad Time and fired. The claws wrapped around Time’s pouch still lashed to the figure’s belt, yanking it free and pulling it back to Legend. The figure broke into a run as Legend retrieved the pouch. The collector let out a colorful string of curses, plunging his arm elbow-deep into the impossibly small pouch. As the figure neared, the strange, heavy pulse of power washed over Twilight again, sending chills racing across his arms. A monster attacked the figure from behind, forcing it to slow as it took time to dispatch it.

Legend shouted triumphantly, yanking his arm back out of the pouch, a blue ocarina clutched in his hand. He jammed the mouthpiece between his lips and immediately played the wrong notes. He cursed loudly, holding it out in front of him and squinting at the finger holes that lay different spots than his own ocarina. Blood roared in Twilight’s ears as the figure resumed its approach. Legend took a breath to play. The figure raised its sword and lunged, closing the distance. Three descending notes rang out, Legend playing even as he stumbled backwards.

The figure froze as the notes echoed throughout the canyon. He remained locked in place for a long moment, hands tight around the hilt of his sword. Then his face, previously completely blank, twisted into an aggrieved expression. He staggered back a step, sword lowering as one hand came up to clutch at his forehead. He groaned in a voice nearly identical to Time’s, sword dropping to the ground as he held his face in both hands. Then his fingers tightened on his skin. A bright light flooded Twilight’s vision and he screwed his eyes shut against it. In the moment that it lasted, the oppressing feeling of power withdrew, pulling back towards the figure. In its wake, a tranquil quiet settled around them. For the briefest moment, it drew away the pain in Twilight’s limbs. Then the moment passed, leaving him in just as much burning agony as before.

Something clattered to the ground. Twilight peeled his eyelids apart to see a mask resembling the figure’s face resting on the ground before a pair of boots. He dragged his gaze up the figure to familiar silver and gold armor, up to the hands clutching a blond head. Time let out a soft sigh, slowly lowering his hands and lifting his head. Tears glistened on his eyelids.

“Time?” Legend asked uncertainly. His voice shook. He hadn’t moved an inch, leaning back slightly away from Time.

Time blinked. A look of confusion crossed his face. His eyes traveled from Legend to the ocarina in his hands to the mask at his feet. He blinked again, stooping to pick it up. His hands shook as he held it, mouth pulled into a deep frown.

“Time,” Legend said again.

Time’s gaze lifted. His brow furrowed. “I’m… still here?” he said faintly.

Legend let out a trembling breath. He took a cautious step forward, then another when Time didn’t react. Then he shoved Time’s pouch and ocarina into the man’s arms and turned around, falling to his knees in front of Twilight.

The moment the tension drained from the air, Twilight’s vision dimmed. He breathed out slowly as Legend spoke to him, nodding at the veteran’s questions. Legend stood up, moving behind Twilight to continue trying to dig him out. Time took his place, kneeling carefully before Twilight. He seemed to have put away his ocarina and the mask, pouch lashed to his belt once more.

“Link,” he said quietly, taking Twilight’s hand in his own. His eyes, dim with exhaustion and fatigue, shone with unshed tears.

Twilight gave his hands a weak squeeze. “Not… dead yet.”

Time’s brow knitted, eyes dropping to their joined hands.

“Guys,” Legend called softly. Time glanced up. Twilight couldn’t follow his gaze, barely able to remain awake. “I can see the boulder that’s directly on him. If I lift it up, can you pull him out?”

Time set his jaw, nodding stiffly.

“H-hey,” Twilight croaked as vertigo sank its teeth into him. He continued when Time turned to look at him. “I’m probably going to… pass out… soon.”

“Th-that’s fine,” Time stuttered. He pursed his lips, frowning to himself. When he spoke again, he did so carefully without stammering. “I have a fairy, we’ll heal you right away.”

Twilight nodded, letting his eyes fall shut. His hearing began to fade along with his consciousness as Legend started counting down.

He barely heard Time’s low murmur before slipping under.

“I won’t fail you.”

[pillowspace]

You had put very little thought into seeing new places before your adventures with the gods, but now, you had an preying need, a desire. The Celestial Realm had been beautiful, when you first saw it anyways, igniting a spark at all the wondrous landscapes. It made you wonder what you were missing out on back on Earth. Much as you loved your home, and were quite content to be there, sometimes you would venture out with one of the gods, whom had no trouble taking you places.

Today, your companion was Eclipse, the incredibly tall, crimson and coal faced god, head encircled by fiery rays, trailing behind you, staring out uncertainly with their many red eyes, dotted by yellow pupils containing black slits. They were just as unused to the travel after all their years imprisoned, the rocky, plateau-dotted desert stretching out on all sides. Passing under a massive light brown sandstone arch, Eclipse reaches up, stroking at the soft rock, laced with patterns and swirls while forming.

"It's pretty," you note, breaking the silence. The imposing being startles, glancing your way, tilting their head just the slightest bit. An awkward moment lingers before they hum, a more calm Meno side. "It is," they agree, moving past. A canyon swallows you both, following a straight line past prickly bushes and cacti. Dry dirt stirs at your feet, dust glimmering in mid-morning sunlight.

Soaking it all in, it takes a moment to realize your companion has stopped, currently staring intensely down at a rock a little ways off. Curious, you join them, your shadow unintentionally falling upon a long, spiky lizard that basks there, startling it from sunbathing. It blinks an eye at you and Eclipse, the god wide-eyed, watching it like a child that just found something particularly fascinating. They reach down towards it, but the movement disturbs the frilly creature, zipping from sight in an instant.

The god lowers their arm, disappointed. You offer a small pat along the appendage to try and cheer them up, smiling and gesturing to continue the walk when they look at you. They concede, gaze lingering for only a moment where the lizard had lain. How strange it must be for them, you think. From your understanding, neither Sunna nor Meno had held much care for the Earth before. Now, though, getting to see anything different was like a miracle, a fact that left you feeling crestfallen on their behalf. You knew things had been really hard for them, after their merge and the imprisonment, one of the reasons you'd forgiven them after the rough start to your friendship. Gods were strange beings, but they were also people, and neither deserved that.

You're yanked from your thoughts by Eclipse, stopping in front of you, examining you with a level of concern. "I'm alright," you swear. "Just thinking."

Curiosity brims once more, tilting their head. "About what?" they ask. You cringe at the idea of bringing up their past, knowing it's a sore subject, so instead throw on a smile, hands folding neatly behind your back, rocking forward on your tiptoes in a jovial motion. "About how lucky I am to have you all. You're all so amazing," you reply. Certainly not far from the truth. Despite everything that happened, the danger you faced, it is a constant thought in the back of your mind. You don't know where you would be without Eclipse, Sun, or Moon. Probably dead, or worse.

Eclipse preens at the praise, grin splitting wide, dripping obsidian liquid down their chin. Realizing, they turn away, trying to wipe it off, chattering between themselves, embarrassed. You smile, stepping up to tug gently at their sleeve. Looking back down at you, you guide their hands forward, laying their massive palms on top of yours. "You're okay, Eclipse. I've seen worse," you assure them. You think, for a moment, that they might cry. It passes, though, their hands lifting off yours to cup either side of your head. A few streaks of the thick black fluid that caught on their fingers ends up smearing a bit on your cheeks, but you don't mind. They lower, nuzzling their face to yours affectionately, eyes closed. You return the gesture, smile farther softening.

Eclipse is reluctant to pull away, but does, releasing you. Your eyes meet their largest pair of red orbs, a shared fondness between you. Taking a hand, your appendage is engulfed in theirs when they carefully fold their fingers down, and you both turn and walk, hand in hand, deeper into the desert, content to continue your exploration together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 3 of 3 complete! Happy birthday! Hope it's a fun one! ☺️

UAHHH I LOVE THESE, THANK YOU SO MUCH 😭😭 POST-CSD ECLIPSE WAHHHHHH. I made the happiest sound scrolling through my inbox and noticing this here, I am giving you the largest wettest eyes. I ADORE THIS, THANK YOU!!

It also is fun seeing Y/N's perspective having mentions of Sunna and Meno, because that is something that i actually want Y/N's thoughts to be like a lot later on. Even after they find out about Sunna and Meno, I want them to not really linger on it and just think of Eclipse solely as Eclipse until about the end of arc 3 when they start properly trying to understand it. And Eclipse would be so fascinated by the Earth, despite having never liked it prior.

I GIVE YOU A MASSIVE HUG, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

[virtie333]

Sibs finally decided they wanted to go on a hike and shockingly the trail my sister chose was one of my favorites. It was crazy busy, and one of my brother's dogs is dog aggressive like Jackson, so that made it interesting (I had to tell some people forcefully to put their dog on a leash when it ran at Jackson; I don't deal with people's shit when it comes to their pets). Overall, despite only 3 hours of sleep, it was a beautiful hike. The Black Hills always heal me.

Jackson in Little Elk Creek

My brother's dogs, Jake and Jessie, joining Jackson. They are Arizona desert dogs, so this was their first time in a large body of water!

70 degrees and sun. It was super windy in town, but in the canyon it was perfect.

My brother and sister taking pictures in the Canyon.

Jackson at the 'white gate' rock formation. I used to ride horses down here in High School!

[scarlet-rider]

---

[ATTACHED: A video, taken from the ground of the Terarium. As the camera pans upward, you notice rings of Magnemite positioned around the edges of the dome, until it eventually stops and focuses on the top of the Terarium Core- where you can see two large black and white figures perched side by side on the ledge. Upon the camera holder zooming in closer, you realize it's Reshiram and Zekrom.

The two dragons ready themselves, and the camera holder gasps in excitement. "Here they go!"

They leap in unison, hover in the air for a moment, before folding their wings and plummeting straight down. The crowd lets out a whoop as they dive towards the earth like meteors, then catch themself on the wind seconds before hitting the ground. They effortlessly race across the set up course, following the trail of Magnemite rings and zipping through each of them with ease. They soar over practically the entire expanse of the Terarium, gliding over the Coastal and Savanah Biomes in a matter of seconds. When they finally reach the crowd, you catch a glimpse of N and Blake on their backs and the audio briefly gets muffled out by the wind roaring as they pass by.

After making their way through the narrow cliffs of the Canyon Biome, they emerge in the Polar Biome, and follow the rings in a spiral up to the peak of its tallest mountain. Right now, it seems like the two dragons are pretty much tied in terms of speed- it's hard to gauge exactly who's winning and who's not. But, as the dragons begin to reach the top, Reshiram's wing accidentally brushes too close to the edge of a Magnemite ring and causes the tiny steel types to disperse. One of the blocks they'd been holding up with their electricity falls, hitting Reshiram's face and causing the dragon to stumble. He gets out a roar as he catches himself and perches on the mountain peak for a brief second, allowing Zekrom to pass him and soar into the lead. It isn't long before Reshiram collects himself and launches himself back off the rock, but his opponent is still a significant distance ahead.

They soon approach the finish line- an open space in the Savannah Biome where the final Magnemite ring awaits. The dragons rocket towards it at full force, tail engines leaving a stream of orange and blue light behind them. Once they cross, they slam their feet onto the ground and skid through the dirt, reaching a halt several yards in front of the audience. The crowd erupts into cheers and applause as N and Blake dismount their dragons, hair tousled and disheveled from the intense wind force.

It had been pretty close- but it'd been fairly clear that Zekrom was the victor by a few seconds. Florence, who had been standing on a stack of blocks off to side to referee, hops down to announce so. "Alright, Zekrom wins! Everybody go home."

The camera holder laughs at her dismissal before the video ends.]

---

Here's the results. Thanks Crispin for filming.

[darkworkcourier]

Hi, hello, I decided to be stupidly self-indulgent and write my Courier/Cooper Howard. I guess it's an AU in the sense that I'm writing this under the No Gods, No Masters ending of FNV? Mr. House whomst.

---

All these years on, Cooper still hates Vegas.

He did some work in there—movie scenes, photo ops, theater releases. Casinos used to pay people like him just to show up, to draw in big crowds eager to gamble alongside the stars. He'd throw down a couple dollars on a blackjack table or at the roulette wheel, then make a beeline for the buffet when his time was up. He never had time to go sightseeing in the Mojave, to gaze down the long concrete throat of Hoover Dam, to catch all the sunset colors at Red Rock Canyon.

He flew in and out, and felt dirty all the while.

Knowing what he does about fellas like Robert House, he feels a particular kind of dirty again as New Vegas wavers like a mirage on the horizon. He's passed through before, following bounties through NCR checkpoints and around Legion patrols back when those bastards still crawled like red mites through the canyons and gullies.

This time is no different. A bounty on a would-be gunslinger who put a bullet into a brahmin baron's son during a bar fight. His trail's easy to follow, as all Cooper has to do is the world's longest bar crawl and ask after a shaken-up little shit in a mouse-colored duster. Same color as his coward hide, Cooper says.

His route takes him to a little outpost called Goodsprings. It's quaint in the way that Wasteland towns usually are—just people trying to keep their heads down and still attached to their necks. They must see ghouls aplenty, as everyone from the bighorner rancher to the bartender doesn't so much as bat an eye at the sight of him.

The bartender in particular is his favorite kind of person. The only question she asks is what he'll be drinking, and then she slides him a shot of whiskey and the rest of the bottle.

"Good for the caps?" she asks.

He nods, knuckles the brim of his hat as extra confirmation. "Much obliged, ma'am."

She scoffs with a smile. "Heavens to betsy, but you're polite. Oughta teach some of our other menfolk 'round here to mind their manners."

"It's a dyin' art," he agrees.

She goes back to wiping out chipped glasses with a rag that probably gets them dirtier than not. As she does, the saloon door opens with a low, throaty creak, getting both of their attentions.

The bartender coughs out a laugh. "Been a minute since you darkened our doorway, honey," she says.

Cooper glances over his shoulder to the visitor, burned-up brows rising in surprise. On one hand, she's a Wasteland special—.308 rifle slung over her shoulder, tan face windburnt on the cheeks, aged brahmin leather rucksack over her shoulder practically busting at the seams with supplies. At a glance, he can't tell if she's a scavver, caravaneer, or mercenary—maybe all three.

But on the other hand, he doesn't see women like her all that often. She's probably in her late 30s or so, although he's absolutely shit at guessing ages these days. A pair of aviator sunglasses rest on top of her head—hair blue-black and tied back—like she's a movie star at poolside. And, hell, the rest of her looks that way, too. If it weren't for all the hallmarks of a life lived out in the wastes, she'd fit right in to his best Hollywood memories. Boxed at the edges, sure, but pretty as all get out.

He doesn't often bitch about being a ghoul, but seeing girls like her out in the wastes really makes him kick himself over getting irradiated.

"Trudy," she greets, sliding onto the stool beside him easy as pie. Like the rest of the town, she doesn't so much as blink at him. "How're things?"

"Just dandy," the bartender replies, sliding a bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla, of all things, across the bar top. "How's Vegas?"

The woman snorts as she opens the bottle, sliding the cap into one of her many pockets. "Same as always. Loud. Full of people with more money than brains. I needed a vacation."

"Well, you know you're always welcome," Trudy says, reaching across the bar to pat the woman on the arm. "Now, Sunny'd kill me right dead if I didn't tell her you were in town. I'm gonna hop out back an' let her know, if that's alright."

"Sure," the woman replies. She grins, a little pinch appearing at the bridge of her nose. "Me an' tall, dark, and ghoulish'll keep an eye out for any ruffians."

And just like they've been friends for decades, the woman gently elbows him in the bicep. If it were anyone else, or anywhere else, he might take a little offense. But it's not often that any gal quite like her even touches him, and this town is nice. So he just smiles and nods, good as anything.

"Of course, ma'am," he says, touching the brim of his hat again. "Do what you gotta do."

"Much obliged," she says, echoing him. She looks back to the woman. "Lizzie, you be nice to this fella."

"Always!"

Trudy heads out from behind the bar, leaving Cooper with her—Lizzie. He watches her take a long drink of her sarsaparilla, following the line of her throat, the faint bob as she swallows. She's still got sweat clinging to her skin from the desert heat, but he can also see freckles on her bare shoulders and her cheeks. If he still had the network of blood vessels to get warm in the face, he thinks he might just.

Lizzie sets her drink down and turns to look right back at him. Not at all put off by his stares. She's all smiles, eyes crinkling with crow's feet at the corners. "See somethin' you like, cowboy?" she asks.

Flirting right out the goddamn gate. It doesn't sound like a joke coming from her, which takes him by surprise.

But it's just as easy to fall into a role.

"Suppose'n I do," he replies. "If you're into irradiated fellas, that is."

She breaks into a laugh, which he almost thinks is at his expense until she follows it up. "Cariño, I'm mostly into people who click the Geiger counter," she says, all matter of fact.

Color him surprised again. "S' that so?"

Lizzie leans over the top of the bar, elbow on the top, chin resting in her palm. Her grin's as wide and content as a cat. "I got a track record, won't lie," she says. "Y'know there's a dominatrix ghoul in Freeside?"

He didn't, but that's a fact he's going to be rolling around in the ol' decrepit gray matter for a while. "Huh," is all he says before taking a shot.

"If you tell her Lizzie Holliday sent you, she might give you a discount."

"I'll keep that in mind, sweetheart."

The nickname seems to make her preen, and she takes another drink like she's fortifying herself. She sets it back down, then gives him a long once-over that almost makes him self-conscious.

Almost.

"Wanna get out of here?" she asks.

"Ain't you got a friend wantin' to visit?"

This time, her smile shows some teeth. One of her top incisors is chipped, and some deep-set part of Cooper that still wants supplies the thought that he ought to test how that tooth feels on his own tongue.

"She knows my priorities," Lizzie says.

And that's all the invitation Cooper needs.

---

Holy-good-goddamn, but he missed this.

Lizzie's riding him like he's the last train out of Yuma, rolling her hips over his, hands braced on his shoulders with a grip that would hurt someone with more nerve endings. Her hair's out of its ponytail, messed up one one side where he raked his hand through it while she was sucking his cock earlier.

And holy shit did she have some technique. He doesn't have a reason to doubt that she's fucked ghouls before, since she put just enough pressure on all the right parts so that he could feel it. And not once did she shy away from him once his clothes were on the floor and he was sprawled out on her bed.

Her bed, in a converted ranch home that she's made positively cozy. He feels like a teenager sneaking in through the window, out of place amongst the artwork and Christmas lights and tchotchkes. He could almost put himself two centuries back, in some college girl's over-decorated dorm room.

But sorority girls don't have deathclaw skulls mounted over their dressers.

Lizzie suddenly catches him on an upward thrust that makes both of them hiss. Then she seats herself flush against him, and it's the closest to heaven he's probably going to get for the kind of bastard he is. She's warm, slick-wet around him and for him. Hazel eyes blown wide and cheeks dark with arousal. It's the first time in years he's felt wanted like this; like he's something worth wanting rather than the irradiated husk of a man.

Another thrust and she shudders, muttering in Spanish and squeezing her eyes shut.

He doesn't catch what she says, but he can't help a little self-deprecation for the road. "If you gotta pretend I'm someone else, by all means."

She swears—and that doesn't need a translation—before her eyes are open and fixed on him. "Give me a name to start moanin' and there won't be any confusion," she says, rolling her hips to punctuate it.

"Jesus Christ," he says through his teeth.

"I'm not callin' you that."

He wouldn't normally offer up his name to anyone not worth knowing he was a human once, but she's something different. He knows that the way the wind blows, he'll likely never see her again, but he'll keep the memory of her tucked nice and close for those lonely, long nights.

"Cooper," he says at last.

She smiles, eyes reflecting those ridiculous rainbow lights strung up around her bedroom. Something about her feels otherworldly, powerful. Either he's already in some weird endorphin-induced haze, or he's more into her than he thought.

"Cooper," she repeats. It's easy and warm as sunshine in her mouth, and he wants to hear it again. He bucks his hips for her, driving up into that heat, eager to get a gasp, a whisper—anything.

And she delivers. Leaning over, tits pressed to his chest, mouth by one of his scarred-up ears, she says his name over and over. Follows the rhythm of his thrusts, loses the syllables as he pushes her over the edge. His name is unstrung, a thread caught in her moans and keens. Then she's pushed to open-mouthed silence, riding it out in desperate asyncopation.

When she finally comes down, he's on the way up. She's clinging to his shoulders still, their chests pressed together, her heartbeat a riot of rhythm rushing through his chest.

Then her mouth goes back to his ear.

"It's Adelita," she says, sighs. "Lizzie to everyone else. Adelita to you."

It's a hell of a trade—a name for a name, a release for a god-fucking-blessed release. He comes harder than he has in years, her name warm on his tongue. He fucks into her, pulsing, filling her, earning another gasp and moan wrapped around his name.

When it's all done, she rolls off him onto her back, chest heaving for breath. He's wheezing for his through rotten lungs. But he watches her, the colors of the lights on her freckled skin and in her eyes, the tresses of her hair falling across her sweat-damp forehead, the scar—

His eyes catch on it. Two interlinked starbursts of scar tissue on the right side of her forehead.

Bullet wounds.

He reaches up to push her hair away from it, pads of his fingers brushing over her skin so that he can almost fool himself into thinking he can feel it. "Looks like there's a story up here," he says. Maybe jokes.

She's still smiling. A little weary, a little amused. "That's my hard reset," she says.

"Oh?"

His hand's still on the scar, and she reaches up to tap the back of his hand twice. Tap-tap, in hard sequence. "Two little 9mm bites," she explains. "Sent me into an early grave."

Cooper frowns, looks at her hand now resting on his, both pressed to her forehead. Now that he's looking, he can also see a faint, hair-thin scar that follows her scalp line all the way across. This girl's got some history.

"I gather that it didn't take," he replies.

Lizzie—Adelita—hums to herself, then sings, "There ain't no grave can hold my body down," before looking up at him. "I did get better."

"I see that. So, either you're the prettiest ghoul that done walked the wastes, or the Mojave's got better doctors than I thought."

"The latter," she confirms. "Myself included."

"No shit?"

Her dark brows rise, grin plain on her face. "Doc Holliday. Get it?"

The joke catches him by surprise, again. A lot of shit about this girl is a surprise. It pries a laugh out of him, then earns a few strokes through her hair. "That's good," he says. "That's real good."

"Gracias."

They lay there in a shockingly comfortable silence. His hand in her hair, combing the strands back and away from that scar. She leans up against him, eyes half-lidded, a dreamy expression on her face.

Then, she sighs, "This is already a damn good vacation."

"Glad I could contribute," Cooper says. "High-stress job?"

She sighs, blinks slow, then reaches up and rests an arm across his waist. "You have no idea," she says.

Curiosity gets the best of him. He's a man who appreciates people keeping their noses—or lack thereof—out of his business. However, he's also a bounty hunter, a man making his too-long living on asking the right questions and using those answers to his benefit down the road. It might be good to know something about her, to make connections, to network as some assholes in his past life might say.

"Merc work? Or somethin' worse?"

"Jack of all trades," she says. She raises up her gaze to him, and for one brief, strange moment, her eyes catch that unearthly light again that he can't entirely blame on the Christmas lights. "Mostly courier. An' mostly ruler of New Vegas."

---

Years down the line, Cooper Howard goes back to Vegas.

It's with company now—a vault girl he's tolerating a little more by the day, and a dog. They cross the Mojave, following the silhouette of Vegas by day and its glow by night, drawing in closer and closer like irradiated moths to Vegas' big ol' flame.

Just shy of Goodsprings, as the foothills lean forward like they're drawn in by the city, too, Lucy asks, "What kind of place is New Vegas, anyhow?"

Cooper shrugs and adjusts his pack as Dogmeat trots alongside him, tongue lolling out of her mouth. "Sleazy, dirty, bright," he says. Then, his eyes catch the tallest building in the row of casinos—the top a massive roulette wheel with its spire pointing to heaven. He has to amend his opinion, for the first time since he stepped foot in Vegas as a healthy human. "Ain't the worst watering hole, though."

"We're not going to get shot at right through the gate?"

Despite himself, Cooper smiles. He draws down the brim of his hat as low as he can without losing vision.

"Nah," he says. "All we gotta say is that Lizzie Holliday put in a good word for us."