#snippe

[silvermistanimelover]

Reasons

So remember that part of Jojo’s Linked Universe web comic where Sky asks Wild to borrow a sword and explains that Fi would shock anyone who raises her against any of her masters? And Wild mutters a comment like ‘hasn’t stopped her before’? I wrote a little snip of what would happen if Sky and the others took his comment more seriously.

Also, this was written at like 3AM so it’s short and messy, sorry.

“Hey Wild, you’ve got extra weapons, right?” Sky asked, drawing the scarred youth’s attention.

“Yeah? Why?” Wild blinked.

“Well, Time wants to spar.” Sky explained. “I’ll need a sword.”

“Can’t you use the Master Sword?” Wild raised an eyebrow, but Sky shook his head.

“She’ll burn my hands if I try and raise her against any of her masters.”

Wild was quiet for a long moment before he pulled out a simple broadsword and handed it to Sky, a rare serious expression on his face. “Really? Doesn’t want to hurt us, huh?” He scoffed quietly. “Hasn’t stopped her before.”

Sky startled at the statement, and Time glanced worriedly at Wild. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.” Wild went to leave, but Sky stopped him.

“Has… Has Fi hurt you?” The sword on his back glowed softly, as if offended by the very thought.

“Guess she never recognized me as her master.” Wild shrugged. “Or perhaps I just fell from her good graces.”

“That’s not how that works.” Sky shook his head. “She should never—”

“My scars say otherwise, Sky.” Wild snapped, bringing up a bare hand. His palms were crisscrossed with distinct burn scars that matched the hilt of the Master Sword precisely.

“H-how…?” Sky looked lost and confused and more than a little hurt at this revalation.

Wild shook his head, irritated. Their argument had drawn the attention of the rest of the group, who were staring at the scarred hand of their brother in disbelief.

“Maybe I’m just different.” Wild sighed. “Maybe it’s because I failed.”

A distinctive chime sounded from the sword and Sky glanced over toward her for a moment. “She said that you have not failed in her eyes.”

“Your Fi is not the same as the Master Sword from my lands.” Wild sighed, running a hand through his hair, pulling out several strands from his already messy ponytail. “The Sword that Seals the Darkness is a ruthless blade. It will kill any fool unworthy of wielding it. And it nearly killed me several times before I became strong enough to withstand the pain of drawing the thricedamned thing. The first time I tried drawing it after my failure, the Great Deku Tree forced me to stop after only ten seconds. He warned me that I would die if I didn’t. Several times I found myself passed out with burns on my palms from attempting to draw it. I almost went after Ganon without it. Perhaps that was why I was finally able to draw it.”

“But…” Sky looked pale and several of the others shared looks of fierce concern. “She should never… She’s even telling me now that it’s against everything she is to hurt any of us—including you.”

“Well tell that to the blade that rests in the Lost Woods.” Wild crossed his arms.

“Wild is pretty far ahead of us, right?” Four spoke up quietly. “It’s possible… maybe Fi no longer inhabits the sword in his time? If that’s the case, then it wouldn’t matter who tried to pull it, it’d be unable to recognize anyone.”

“There’s no way to know unless we can see Wild’s Master Sword ourselves.” Time finally stepped in.

“Look.” Wild started, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I’m sorry, Sky. I didn’t mean to offend you or Fi. I just… have some strong feelings about my Master Sword, is all. If it makes you feel better, I’ll see if I can take us to it when we next visit my Hyrule.”

“I think that’d be a good idea.” Sky nodded. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For what your Master Sword did to you. And Fi apologizes as well.”  

“Thanks.” Wild gave him a halfhearted smile. “And really... I don’t hold it against either of you.”

“Come on.” Twilight held up his blade. “Let’s all blow off some steam. Care to join us Wild? Make it a three-way free for all spar?”

Wild hesitated for a moment before tapping his Slate, producing another simple blade. “You’ll regret asking.” He smirked.

[fallenhero-rebirth]

Anther Ortega snippet

I have no excuses, I don’t know what happened, my fingers slipped and I needed to get it out there.

m!Ortega. ?Sidestep. Not safe for any kind of workplace.

Tie his hands. Tie them down, straps tight, leather not metal, nothing to conduct electricity. Tie him down and kiss him as he's struggling awake, eyes fluttering open meeting yours.

You've taken the helmet off by now. He knows, no need to keep secrets, not that one, you can lean in and kiss him, tasting bruised lips and there's no reluctance there, just anger.

And want.

"Tying me up again?" he mumbles, you can feel the charge in the air, ironic, iconic and you kiss him again tasting ozone on his lips.

"I'm the villain," you whisper back, watching him strain against the restraints, arms secured above his head, tanned flesh striped with paler scars, little black hairs standing on end as your armored glove presses him down, strapping down each foot in turn. "It's what villains do."

"Stripping too?" he asks, dark eyes following your every move, hooded, heavy, and you can't reach out to see whether he wants to fight you or fuck you. But what his mind won't show, his body does, naked on the bed and somehow not helpless despite it. It's in the way he shifts, as if this was a choice, something under his control. You always admired that confidence.

"That part is for me," you admit, because it is, you've stripped your own unconscious body more than once, it's not that much different handling his. More kisses though.

"We've got to stop meeting like this." The tone is teasing, but he's testing the bonds again, to no avail. You know his limits, better than he knows yours.

"You can always stop." You pull back from the bed, unlocking the armor, shedding the pieces until you stand revealed in nothing but your black skinsuit, thin enough to go under armor, thin enough to reveal your body in every detail but the skin. "I can't."

"And what if I win?" he asks, not flinching from your touch as you sit down next to him, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "It was close, this time."

"I don't think they'd let us make out in a cell," you whisper, leaning down to kiss him, a little sadly. It wouldn't be a cell, but that's sad enough for him to think about. He knows some truths, not everything. "Now shush." Another kiss, and you reach out to run your hands through his hair, brushing it away from his face as you affix the blindfold.

"Really?" he complains, but doesn't resist. "I thought we were past that."

"You don't get to see me," you mumble into his lips, making sure there's no gaps where he could sneak a peek. You phrase it as a punishment, as teasing him for not switching sides, but it's for your own protection.

And his.

This is twisted, but it's yours, and you don't want to lose it. Or him.

You strip the skinsuit off, naked skin on his as you sit back down. On him this time, not next to him. On him, straddling warm flesh, knowing that if he really wanted to he could probably zap you right now. Take you down. But he doesn't, instead he plays along, muscles tensing as you bite your way down his arms, leaving marks as obvious as the bruises earlier.

"You're cruel," he whispers, half choked, half needy.

"Of course," you reply, catching hold of his nipple between your teeth, biting it hard enough to send a spanish swear past his lips. "And you like it." It's a thrill to have him splayed out like this, yours as much as this city is. Conquered, neither without a fight.

"Mierda," another breathless obscenity as you bite your way down his side, fingers still playing with his nipple, until you pull them back.

No more words. Not from him. Not from you.

Instead you catch his balls in your hands, warm and heavy, and pulls them lightly, enough to provoke another groan, your other hand running fingers up the inside of his thigh, the restraints stopping him from pulling them together. You tug and pull, your other hand sliding up around his shaft, tugging lightly at it until it's as hard as you'd like.

"Do you want it?" you mumble, because even in this twisted world there's lines you won't cross, and he could have said no at any point. "Do you want me?"

"Yes," comes the breathless reply, the rest of the sentence cut off into a whine as you pop his head into your mouth, circling it with your tongue. "Please..."

"Begging already?" You're not talking to taunt him, but to draw this moment out, to remember every detail. He can't see you, but you can see him. See every touch spark reactions across his body, too well-built for a man his age, too scarred for one lifetime, and by this point too familiar for your own good. You don't want to lose it, so you drag your nails down the inside of his thigh, causing him to gasp from the sudden shock. "Tell you what.... Charge," your voice drips down into your deeper spectrum, your villain voice coming easy even without vocal distorters. "If you beg me good enough, you'll get to fuck me. If not..." the growl comes without effort "...you're mine."

Let him sweat on that, you think, pressing your naked skin against his, feeling the raggedness of his breath as he's considering his options.

Either way, he's fucked.

And so are you.

There's no way you can keep this up forever.

[yearofdays]

[tree-thuggin-hippie]