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#‘leave me alone’
adrift-in-thyme · 7 months
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Whumptober Day 17: “Leave me alone”
Read it on Ao3
- Fierce Deity & Mask
- Summary: Fierce cares for a wounded Mask
CW for blood and injury
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Link sits on the outskirts of the battlefield.
Fierce can see him from where he stands, a small, hunched figure silhouetted against a hazy blue sky and the remnant wisps of smoke. He starts toward him at a brisk pace, picking his way around the remaining bodies and rubble. He cannot help but wrinkle his nose at the conglomeration of unpleasant smells.
War god though he may be, he has never truly enjoyed conflict. At times it is necessary. But never is it enjoyable. The destruction it brings makes him ill.
Especially now, as he comes closer to the child and gains a better look at his injuries. He is bleeding. The emerald sleeve of his tunic has turned dark with the gory substance. A gash snakes its way from the very base of his neck down through his shoulder to end at his bicep. Its angry edges are coated in dirt and soot.
There is bruising too, peppering his arms and legs. And when he raises his head, Fierce can see that one of his eyes is swollen shut.
“Little one.”
He squats down, feeling abnormally large next to this tiny Hylian he has come to think of almost as his own child. Link looks up at him and sniffles. He raises a trembling hand, swiping viciously at the tears carving trails through the blood and dirt coating his face.
“Where’s the captain?”
There is anger in his voice, but Fierce disregards it. He has known this little hero for years now. He can tell quite easily when his anger is merely a front.
“He is safe.”
He reaches out toward Link’s injured arm. Link backs away.
“You are badly injured. Allow me to help you.”
Link shakes his head, cap flopping, bangs falling into his face. “Leave me alone. I don’t need your help.” There is a pause, then, “and he doesn’t either.”
Fierce blinks.
Ah, so that is what this is about.
Though the captain had willingly given himself over to the Deity’s strength, Fierce should have expected this to be a struggle. After all, Link does not know the promise he had made to the older hero. And his fear of the mask has not yet vanished.
With good reason, Fierce thinks, bitterly. Every time the hero uses it, his immense power takes its toll. It is a price he wishes he could rid him of.
“He tasked me with protecting you when he could not,” he says, solemnly. “Helping you would be fulfilling my oath to him.”
Link’s head jerks upward. More tears stream down his cheeks.
“You wanna help me? Let him go!” A sob tears through him and he clutches at his arm. Crimson runs down his fingers. “Let my brother go.”
Fierce raises his hands, instinct crying out that he comfort the broken child before him. But when Link curls in on himself further, he stops short of touching the hero. With his strength he could simply scoop him up and carry him away. He holds back, however. He does not wish to force his way unless absolutely necessary. So, they simply hover uselessly in the space between him and Link.
“Allow me to tend to your wounds and get you to safety. Then, I will release the captain.”
Link hiccups, his grip on his arm tightening, and finally, Fierce reaches out. Slowly, he pries the tiny fingers away from the wound. The captain had had bandages in his pouch and though he had been forced to use some for himself, there is still an ample supply left over. He begins winding them around Link’s arm with as much care as his war-calloused hands can manage.
“You’re hurting him.”
He doesn’t pause in his work, but he does look up from it for just long enough to see the broken expression on Link’s face.
“No, I am not. The captain gave himself willingly. As you know, that is the least painful way to utilize my power. He is not fighting. He is at rest.”
Another hiccuped-sob shakes the hero.
“Why? Why’d he put you on?”
Fierce tears off the remaining bandages and ties them tightly. It is not a perfect job, but it will hold for long enough to get him back to camp. They can take proper care of him there.
“Out of necessity. He needed to win this battle and care for the wounded. He could not do so with the strength he currently possessed.”
Link hands curl into fists. “That idiot. I told him never to wear it. I told him it was dangerous. I told him…” His words dissolve into another sob.
Fierce rests a hand on Link’s uninjured shoulder and the hero looks up at him, emotions swirling in his eyes.
“I promise you, little one, I will release him once you are safe. I have no wish to harm the captain…or you.”
He holds his gaze for a moment more, then turns to place the bandages back into the captain’s pouch. When he reaches for Link, the hero doesn’t struggle. And when he scoops him into his arms, he slumps against him with a trembling sigh.
Whether he is simply too weak and tired to fight any longer, or he has decided the Deity’s words are trustworthy, Fierce doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter to him, either way. His responsibility is getting Link to safety.
“The captain knew that you would not approve of his use of the mask, you know,” he says, once Link is securely in his hold and he has started his journey back. Link blinks, slowly, like one of the puppies they saw so often in Termina, exhausted after a day of running, yet still fighting sleep. “But you are precious to him. No sacrifice is too large if it ensures that you are safe.”
Tears well in Link’s eyes once more and he turns his face away.
“Idiot,” he mumbles again.
But there is something in his voice that Fierce cannot identify. Something almost like the feeling of sunshine trying to break through the clouds. It seems, sharing the captain’s sentiments was the right choice.
Humans really are such curious beings, he thinks as he walks back toward camp with the child curled in his arms. They care and yet, see fit to pretend that they do not.
“Fierce?” The voice is small, hesitant.
“Yes, little one?”
“You really are gonna let him out, right?”
Fierce smiles, grimly. So trust is still a ways away, then. No matter. He will repeat his promise however many times is necessary to soothe Link's fears. Someday, perhaps the hero will know that he wishes no harm upon him.
“I give you my word.”
Link sighs. His hand is curled around his tunic sleeve, Fierce notices now. The realization ignites a curious warmth within him.
“‘K,” he whispers and closes his eyes.
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samtheacesheep · 7 months
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Work Description:
Melissa struggles with her feelings. Zack struggles to help.
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izzy-enjoyer · 2 years
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“I can’t handle change” by Roar…
izzy hands song
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goth-brushbug · 7 months
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"kill them with kindness" wrong. bat attack
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flawlessflesh · 10 days
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what if thistle had confronted senshi before the story started?
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shinobicyrus · 2 months
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Why do you need your earbuds to have a wire so badly?
I am assuming this is about a post I reblogged like six months ago when I went off on forced technological enshitification and the slow erosion of consumer options. But sure, I'll bite.
Why do I "need" my earbuds to have a wire? I dunno, Anon, maybe I:
Don't want to have to worry about recharging my earbuds.
Don't want my earbuds to be even easier to lose.
Don't want my earbuds to need separate accessories that are as easy to lose as the earbuds.
Prefer to have bluetooth turned off on my devices for security and safety reasons.
Like being able to seamlessly plug my earbuds into my computer, my MP3 player, or any other device with a headphone jack.
Don't want to spend 50 dollars on decent wireless earbuds when I can do all the above things with a pair of solid earbuds that cost me like $12 during the Obama administration.
Don't care about what kinds of headphones or earbuds people wear but don't like what it says about our society when other people apparently care what kind of earbuds I'm wearing so much they have send an Anonymous ask to interrogate me about it.
And I guess, more abstractly, because fuck Apple. That's why.
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1eos · 11 months
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blocked someone for saying ‘aww your 20s arent that bad at least you get your own apartment’ this is a safe space for all of us that are suffering w our parents at 25
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elainiisms · 5 months
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female protagonists will literally go through 30 life altering traumas at the age of 16 and you ppl still have the audacity to call them annoying bc they cry about it and act like teenage girls
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yamikakyuu · 1 year
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Me every damn day
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crazypigeonenjoyer · 6 months
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STOP THROWING CRABS AT ME
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republic-of-cheese · 4 months
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I'm not like other girls. I've somehow angered the Gods.
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menelaiad · 11 months
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the infamous 'last sighting of a barbary lion in the wild' photo taken by marcelin flandrin (1925) haunts me to my core. there's something so achingly poetic about it.
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emmyrosee · 6 months
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I have an image of this man, leave me alone I sWEAR TO GOD-
——
Geto does this thing with his nose.
It’s something you noticed not too long ago, something he does when he’s lost in thought, deep in his memories and trying to sort out the pieces of puzzles in his head.
His nose, the perfect nose on that perfect face-
Scrunches up.
It wrinkles under the thoughts moving around his head, twitching side to side with with monotone “uhhhhh…” when you ask him spontaneous questions.
It writhes when he tries to choose his words carefully, usually when they’re ones of scolding, and it almost takes your focus from the topic at hand to how absolutely precious the sight is.
And yeah, it wrinkles under the force of laughter that he lets out, when he’s deep in joy and his smile is too big to contain, but that’s a corner of love that’s reserved for his hidden dimples. His crinkled little nose is far easier to activate.
Even right now, as you ask him what dinners he has planned the rest of the week, you’re barely able to keep track of anything he’s listing off because that pretty little nose scrunches between the days of the week.
“I guess I got the hamster wheel going?” You tease, chin resting dreamily on the palm of your hand. He cocks a brow, his lip twitching slightly in annoyance.
Along with his nose, of course.
“What did you call me?”
“I didn’t call you anything,” you snicker. “In your head. You’re deep in thought.”
“…. What?”
You roll your eyes, but the smile stays all the same, “nothing, babe. I just like your thinking face.”
“You should like all of my faces,” he says, wrinkling his nose as if wanting to say more, but fighting it back.
You smirk. Then, you lean up to gently grip his chin and kiss the tip of that wriggling nose.
“You’ve got no idea, Suguru.”
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calagua · 9 months
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Oh Jeffrey? Jeff the killer? Oh yeah he's not a teenager anymore. He's 28. Yeah he's still into the killing part just not as much. He says it lost its spark. Yeah he still says go to sleep but he'd honestly rather go sleep himself. He's pretty chill. Past the killings. He's a beloved member of the community. Yeah he's on estrogen
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lunarw0rks · 18 days
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john “big stretch” price
simon “make it fit” riley
soap “just the tip” mactavish
kyle “give me one more” garrick
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etakeh · 1 year
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You know, every so often I think I should update my pirated copy of CS2.
Then I see things like this, and remember that I don't need it more than I need it, you know?
Dated 3/22/23
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