#there have some writing xD

[rhaegxr]

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐭: 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚑𝚊𝚕

Maybe it was all for naught. 

The moving of the pawns from the shadows, writing letters in the dimly lit corner of his chambers, risking the lives of those who believed in him to do what was best by carrying out shady schemes. Even Elia, his ever gracious wife, summoned an entire retinue of ladies to attend her, in the hidden intent of assisting her husband in his plans. It was hard to stop his heart from dropping in hopelessness when the rumors of the King’s presence in Harrenhal became a reality. It wasn’t hard to surmise who was whispering in his royal sire’s ear, fueling the man’s fear of enemies and betrayal; proving that all efforts to remain inconspicuous were in vain. 

It meant not that all was lost nor that those plans were thwarted for certain. The prince might yet rally the support of the noble families in other ways, for when the time of changes is upon them. 

The eve prior to their departure, Rhaegar visited the bed of the Martell princess, where they would whisper of what was to come in the following weeks. Both were reluctant to leave behind their daughter, sharing in how they would miss her bright smile and sweet laughter as she wobbled along the halls of Dragonstone.

Although Elia was eager for the journey and the tourney’s grandeur, the crown prince was less so. Harrenhal was a place of ghosts. It was there that Aegon unleashed the destructive fury of the Black Dread’s fire, engulfing those inside in a fiery death. The place which was meant to protect them became their grave. He’s seen ghosts, heard them in Summerhall, their whispers haunting his dreams. And yet he’s seldom felt such solace elsewhere that was not in the ruins of his birthplace, under the open blanket of a starry night sky. Being surrounded by the shadow of grief strangely brought him peace. How he longed for those nights of lone escape. 

Even from a distance, the melted, black towers of Harrenhal inspired a kind of awe that was close to unnerving. The more they approached its gates, the busier the road with all those who would attend the tourney. They stared when the royal procession passed by, the banners of House Targaryen proudly waving in the wind, but they cheered and bowed as Rhaegar’s steed galloped along. The dragon prince smiled and nodded, lifting a hand in every now and then in greeting. 

The grounds around Harrenhall were filled with colorful pavilions, making the heir wonder how they would look from above on the back of a dragon. He would sometimes dream of it—Flying on dragon back and leaving the world behind. Often enough, it felt like he was the dragon. 

After his own pavilion and those of his wife and her ladies were standing, refreshments were fetched, but he did not remain long. Arthur Dayne, Knight of the Kingsguard and his closest friend, accompanied the prince on a stroll around the grounds, greeting a few of the lords and their families. But not long after, a commotion commanded the attention of those closeby, including Rhaegar’s, who followed towards the source.

What he saw was certainly unexpected and for reasons he was yet to understand, it would not easily forsake his thoughts.

#there have some writing xD #ofc it not a reply but... it writing but yes it from something i had been for almost a year now i think #because ofc i start a lot of drabbles and stories but dont end them woops #but this is a story from rhaegar and lyanna's perspectives; the next part of that is from lyanna's and her defending howland #so just wanted to share for whoever wants to read #drabbles #writing #mine #[ s i l v e r p r i n c e ] #rhae headcanons #v; the last dragon

[cuubism]

Happenstance [5x Hob and Dream met between their regular meetings] - bonus epilogue

--

Hob’s not the smartest man, but usually he’s got his wits about him. When you spend a chunk of your life accosting people on the road, you learn to keep an eye out for other people trying to accost you on the road. Not this time, apparently. This time, Hob’s walking about with his head in the clouds like a loon, paying fuck all attention to his surroundings, because he’s thinking about Dream.

He’s been doing that for a while. It’s not been long since Dream returned to him, since Hob kissed him, since his lovely old stranger seemingly accepted his courtship, and left him with a promise to come back. Hob’s been thinking about it nonstop since. It’s better than drugs, and Hob’s tried a lot of drugs.

Hob has unlimited time. If he wants to spend several months of it just thinking about the way Dream felt in his lap, and against his lips, and fantasizing about more, that’s what he’s going to do. Who’s going to stop him?

Apparently, the answer to that is, some guy with a crowbar. Really, Hob has been so spacey he’s lucky he only got knocked out and kidnapped, and not fully run over by a bus.

It’s all Dream’s fucking fault, anyway. Hob will tell him that when he sees him. Whenever that is.

As things stand now, he’s chained to a wall in some guy’s basement, which doesn’t bode well for seeing Dream some time soon. No one’s really talked to him since he woke up, and he’s not certain if this is because he’s done a poor job of obscuring his immortality, or if it’s something to do with his association with Dream. He wouldn’t have thought anyone knew about that, but then, he hadn’t thought so in 1789, either, and then that Constantine woman had come after them.

Too many damn cameras around nowadays, he thinks. It’s only getting harder to stay under the radar.

He’s just glad it wasn’t Dream that they captured. Granted, Dream probably could have freed himself instantly from this. Hob’s almost gotten one of his hands out of the chains, no magic required for that, just a few centuries’ worth of experience getting into trouble. Still, he’s glad that it wasn’t Dream.

He keeps working on twisting one of his hands out of the bindings. It’s actually easier with his hands above his head as they are, he can leverage gravity that way, but he still can’t quite get it.

His adrenaline is running high, with no real outlet, and that’s not helping matters. He can’t die, but the situation is still making him nervous. They don’t usually try to drown witches these days. They don’t usually believe in witches these days. Usually. Somehow Hob thinks this lot might be of a different mindset.

He’s still working on wiggling his arm free when the room plunges into darkness.

Wind swirls around him. His cuffs make a shrieking sound and then snap, releasing his wrists and dropping him to the ground. Somewhere upstairs, he hears someone scream.

The lights flash, and then Dream is standing in front of him. He’s a void of darkness cut out of the fluorescents, his expression as dark as the knocked-out lights. Hob wonders if he’s been catching up on missed films. Very horror movie, that entrance.

“You were serious about that!” Hob exclaims, delighted. “About not leaving me there!” He’s practically forgotten about getting kidnapped and chained up already, he’s far too thrilled about Dream coming to rescue him.

Dream scowls. “I do not speak falsehoods,” he says. “These arrogant ‘magicians’ dare to act against us. I have made them see the error of their ways.”

Us. Hob could start singing.

Dream finally walks over to him and crouches in front of him. He studies Hob, head tilted. “Your concern about this matter, or rather lack thereof, is disturbing to me.”

“I was concerned until you showed up, love,” Hob tells him. “Very dramatic entrance, by the way.”

“I see that being unable to die has had a detrimental effect on your sense of self-preservation,” Dream says, but there’s a smile in his voice now.

“I’m great at self-preservation,” Hob protests. “You’ve no idea how many situations I’ve not gotten involved in. Don’t judge me on one—”

He breaks off as Dream cups his face in one hand, strokes his thumb over Hob’s cheek. His gentle, sure touch makes Hob go still.

“I am glad to find you unharmed,” Dream says. Will Hob ever get used to Dream looking at him like that, with that care? No. He doesn’t want to.

“I suspect those guys upstairs are feeling glad about it, too, right about now,” Hob says, but his voice is tight, too affected by Dream’s touch for real humor.

“Mmm. I may consider showing mercy,” Dream agrees. “Eventually.”

“It’s hot when you’re scary like that,” Hob tells him. He may still be a little loopy from getting whacked upside the head. That, or it’s just the high of Dream’s melodramatic rescue. “Help me up?”

Dream stands, taking Hob by the arm and pulling him smoothly to his feet. Hob sways, and braces himself on Dream’s arms. It’s far from the first time in his life he’s been hit in the head with a blunt object, but it never gets less shitty to deal with.

“Now you get to be the gallant rescuer,” he says. “What was this about, anyway? None of them even told me.”

Dream touches the back of his head, where there’s blood clotted in his hair, the gash just barely scabbed over. “You drew some attention to yourself in searching for me,” he says. “That is what I have gathered from their dreams. I suspect they wanted to question you about it.”

Hob gets a chill, but not because of his own endangerment. “Does that mean there were people out there who knew you were trapped the whole time? And didn’t do anything?”

Dream inclines his head. “Not many. But yes, there were a few who had encountered Roderick Burgess over the years, or who considered themselves a part of the deep occult underground.”

“Jesus Christ.” Hob’s perpetual tendency towards violence rears its head as he contemplates tracking those people down and letting them know what he thinks about it. He reminds himself that he’s going to have to fake his death after this already, and there’s no need to create more problems for himself.

He supposes he shouldn’t be offended at other people’s passivity, he himself has stayed out of things plenty of times when he could reasonably have taken action. But it’s easy to take offense, to take it personally, when it involves Dream.

“I would recommend against taking action on that,” says Dream, with a tiny smile as if he knows exactly what Hob is thinking about. “Though disappearing for a while may be advisable.”

“Might be time to explore a different country,” Hob agrees.

Dream holds out a hand. “Come. I will return you home.”

“This really is a gallant rescue,” Hob says. He’s still delighted about it. “One more thing, though.”

He takes Dream’s hand, then leans in to kiss him.

He thinks Dream might have made himself just a bit taller for the sake of this dramatic endeavor, because Hob has to lean up just slightly to kiss him. Dream’s lips are ever so slightly chilled, and he tastes charred, like the aftermath of a lightning strike. It’s addicting. The power of him.

Experiencing it makes him even more grateful that Dream let him see him in a more vulnerable state, too, when he came back to him after his imprisonment. He’s clearly more than capable of keeping up that all-powerful aspect, he didn’t need to show Hob anything. He did anyway.

“A kiss of thanks?” murmurs Dream, as they pull apart.

“A kiss of ‘I wanted to,’” Hob says, which draws a chuckle from him.

“Let us return, then, and perhaps we can do more of what you have wanted to.”

“You do know how to tempt a man,” Hob says. “Alright, darling.” He squeezes Dream’s hand. “Take me home.”

--

Traveling via Dream’s sand is extremely disconcerting, and Hob’s pretty sure that no human was ever meant to experience it. It’s rather like stepping into a tornado, but one whose winds manage to get inside his head instead of just buffeting him from without. He thinks they might travel through a couple different planes of existence, and a few of nonexistence to boot. He tries not to think about it too hard, he’s too concussed to deal with it.

Regardless, it does get them back to his flat, which is a relief. He half-wonders if Dream will leave, then, having seen him safely home, but he stays. Lingering just a bit awkwardly in the living room as Hob quickly showers and changes into clothes that aren’t covered in blood and grime.

It makes Hob smile to reemerge and find him perched on the edge of the couch, reading a book with an air of affected disinterest. But he looks up when Hob comes out.

“Sorry, love,” Hob says. “Didn’t mean to leave you alone out here.”

A smile tugs at Dream’s lips at the endearment, and he leans ever so slightly forward, as if he would chase it where it lingers on Hob’s lips. “It is no matter.”

“You hungry?” Hob asks.

Dream frowns. “Should you not be resting?”

“Those guys made me miss dinner and I’m starving,” Hob says. “I might be mildly concussed but I’m pretty sure I can still boil water. Come on.”

Dream follows him silently to the kitchen, making no further protest.

Hob makes them some food, just pasta and sauce. Dream leans against the counter, sipping wine, as he works. Hob doesn’t trust him to help. Kingly types never know their way around a kitchen.

“You know,” he says as he sits down at the table, puts a bowl of pasta in front of Dream and then starts eating his own probably faster than is truly advisable, “the rescue was extremely entertaining and all, but I would also love to see you in situations that don’t involve extreme peril.”

“I will try to visit more, then,” says Dream.

Hob blinks. It’s that easy now?

“I intended to return earlier, but I had more left to do than I anticipated,” Dream continues. “Is it not customary for lovers?”

Hob chokes on his food.

Lovers, now? Zero to one hundred in an instant with this one. Not that Hob is opposed. He’s always been greedy and he’ll glut himself on Dream if allowed. He just… didn’t think he would be allowed.

He takes Dream’s hand on the tabletop. Dream hasn’t eaten anything, not that Hob really expected him to.

“I guess it is,” he says, grinning.

Dream smiles, that small, true smile that Hob loves more each time he gets to see it.

“Is that what we are?” Hob continues, playing with Dream’s fingers on the table. “Lovers?” And, because he knows better now than to leave that sort of question in Dream’s hands, adds, “Because I’d like that. Don’t know precisely what that means to you, though.”

Lovers could be something all-consuming. It could also just mean that they meet every hundred years as they have done, but they get to have sex, too. Hob knows which one he’d rather.

“It means…” and here Dream does pause to think, as though the city he’d already built of them in his head is not proving so well-mapped in reality. Doesn’t Hob know the feeling.

Dream sighs. “I have frequently proven an insufficient lover,” he admits. “What it ‘means’ matters little, for that rarely seems to bear itself out.”

In all his recent loony mulling over Dream, Hob’s also been thinking about dreams. Bit hard to be in love with dreams sometimes. But now he thinks, also, that it must be terribly frustrating to be the king of all imagined possibility, and then have to contend with the limitations of reality.

“It matters to me,” Hob says. He squeezes Dream’s hand. “Tell me?”

Dream doesn’t speak again. He stands and comes around to Hob’s side of the table. Leans over him, wraps a hand around the back of Hob’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. His grip is gentler than Hob thinks it really wants to be, in deference to Hob’s head injury—if Dream had his way he would pull hard but he doesn’t, and that alone sends a rush of tender heat through Hob’s body.

He cranes his head back, lets Dream’s grip move him. Dream curls around him, as if to blanket Hob with his form, slots a leg between his, and kisses him. With tongue. With teeth. With that would-be-strength with which he’d grabbed Hob’s hair, ferocious possession held at bay by gentler care. God does Hob want to tell him to damn the injuries to hell, he’ll live—he wants to feel that in full.

Dream gentles the kiss. Nips at the corner of Hob’s mouth, then licks over where he’d bit. Nuzzles into Hob’s hair, tucks his nose by Hob’s ear. Hob wraps an arm around his waist, holding him tight, and Dream buries himself close to him in a way that reminds Hob of when he’d convinced him to stay, to sit with him and admit, even if just by implication, that everything was not quite all right.

“That’s what it means?” Hob says, still breathless from the kiss.

Dream’s somnolent voice rumbles through his body. “Yes.”

Hob smiles to himself, and tucks his face in against Dream’s shoulder. “Good.”

#dream: stop smiling. you were kidnapped #hob: yeah we should do it again some time :) #hob might have a little bit of a power kink when it comes to dream. just a LITTLE. just a TINY BIT #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #of course the fic had to open and end with hob getting mugged XD

[memoirsofasim]

Inner Circle 2.0, Del Sol Valley - Dreamer residence

I imagine Dirk was born and raised in Del Sol Valley and he is proud of where he comes from. He chose to build and live in an ordinary part of town but it suits him to a tea. Right across from his house are the Del Sol Courts that he used to play on as a teen. He might be a Proper Celebrity but he doesn't let it go to his head. He is approachable, down to earth, and a genuine stand up guy.

Lot available on the gallery, id: simmemoirs

#The Sims 4 #TS4 #Sims 4 #Del Sol Valley #Mirage Park #Inner Circle #I felt like writing something lol #I've got 4 wks off work so gonna have some time on my hands XD #BAW: Del Sol Valley

[anathemafiction]

Heard you wanted some jealousy scenes... 🙈

You give him an easy-going smile. "I'll remember that promise."

"Promise? I meant it as an..." Lance takes a moment to find the right word. "Invitation."

"What's that you said?" you counter, hand cupping your ear. "A sworn oath?"

"You have the habit of getting what you want, do you not?" Lance says, catching you by surprise by the sudden change in subject. He smiles still, but there's something different about it.

You cock your head to the side. "Is that such a bad habit to have?"

"Do you also always answer questions with more questions?"

"And what right has the pot to call the kettle black?"

Lance laughs. It's a real, genuine laugh that seems to take him as much for a surprise as yourself. "You are..." The bard shakes his head. "You are something else, mercenary."

He stops talking, frowns, and then clears his throat awkwardly.

*if Hadrian_Romance

"Well, uh. Yes, ${mc_she} is," Hadrian suddenly speaks. He looks from you to Lance with a guarded expression, and you may be imagining things, but it seems his eyes harden when they settle on the bard. "Don't know how that's relevant, though. Right now, I mean."

Lance bows his head. "You are right, my Company friend. It isn't. But alas, relevance doesn't always wait for the most opportune time."

Hadrian gives him a confused scowl. "What?" he croaks. "That makes no sense."

You drag your eyes from one man to the other. An odd tension sets, and while it is amusing, you can't help but feel as if you stand right at the center of the hurricane. You should probably say something. You may just make it worst but, really, the important bit is that you try.

So, you open your mouth—

*page_break "If you are done fraternizing."

#might post one with Alessa next #these are some mild spoilers so don't open if you don't want to see #I've been having so much fun writing lately #idk it's just been such a joy again #^^ #sorry if I keep posting sneak peeks xD #The Golden Rose #Lance #Hadrian #tgr spoilers

[capn-twitchery]

figuring out what twitch calls other characters is one of the hardest parts of writing letters bc this bitch cannot be consistent to save their life

if a character's title passes the vibe check then they get that. if they don't then twitch is going straight to overfamiliarity with the first name. if someone goes by a nickname there is a 60% chance they'll use the full name instead for some reason

MAYBE mx/mr/ms. surname. if they hate you or some other arbitrary reason. maybe Just surname if they like your surname. maybe all of the above all at once.

like. girl make up your mind

(this does not change based on closeness. they still refuse to call grace by anything other than his surname or lieutenant for the rest of time. if you're friends with them there's a good chance they won't use your name Once)

#it's so hard to explain but writing sometimes feels like having conversations with ocs in my brain. or just rotating things til the vibesfit #and with some ocs it feels like a 10 step process to figure out how they make decisions #it's very fun i am not complaining. it's like a puzzle xD #londonmusings #twitchery

[blackjackkent]

Jaheira's office does indeed look completely overgrown, which is apropos to be honest.

There's several notes in here from various people regarding her investigations into the cult and the shadowlands prior to her departure to Last Light. Also a note from the Flaming Fist indicating that Rion and Jord have been helping to "settle street disputes" in a fashion the Fist disapproves of, and a clipping from the Baldur's Mouth Gazette relating to the Beloved Ranger statue (which was actually Minsc) disappearing.

There's a button operated by the pin Tate gave us on the side of her desk; it opens a pathway down into "Jaheira's Hideout" beneath the house.

Whoa.

There are quite a number of these traps set up. The Narrator informs us, on a passed arcana check, that these are attuned to the druid who set them - Jaheira - but that they can be overwhelmed by being hit with the same element.

I trust you implicitly, Jaheira, and also I can't figure out what pressure plate you're talking about. So I hope you're right. XD

At the bottom of the hill is... well, a sort of paradise.

A gorgeous green lagoon rounded with trees and plants and a run-down but sturdy house of wood and thatch. Next to it is a badger, labeled "Postmaster Badger", and several "Messenger Rats."

"The only patch of wilderness this city permits me," Jaheira says wistfully. "There ought to be supplies here to aid us."

"You know this place, Boo?" Minsc says indignantly. "Hmph. Minsc has never been invited."

Everything inside the house is trapped. XD I quicksaved aggressively while disarming everything because I was very afraid of exploding Jaheira's sanctuary by accident.

In disarming the traps, Hector finds a hidden door behind a bookshelf.

Jaheira reaches out and puts a hand on his arm before he can proceed. "Keen eye," she says quietly. "But if it's supplies you seek, weapons to aid in our fight - you won't find them behind that door." He can hear a sudden effort in her voice, one he knows all too well - the struggle against sudden emotion. "There is nothing back there of worth to anyone but me."

Hector looks at her thoughtfully. His curiosity is piqued, certainly, and it is a powerful force on its own - but more than that, he has been fascinated, over this past hour or so, at seeing beneath the brittle shell that Jaheira always presents to the world. "If it matters to you, it matters to me," he says earnestly.

She looks away from him, her eyes flicking rapidly around the room. "On my word," she mutters. "All you will find inside is dust, and the mouldering keepsakes of a much younger woman."

"Jaheira," Minsc rumbles gently. "Our friend has put their trust in us. Boo thinks it only right to return the gesture, no?"

For a moment, Hector thinks she is going to lash out, defensive-- but then she hesitates, and smiles ruefully. "You so rarely make a habit of being right, ranger, that it puts me ill at ease when you are." She sighs, looks back to Hector and nods. "Pass, then. Go on. See what it is a foolish old Harper thinks worth hiding away."

Hector holds himself still for a moment, giving her the chance to change her mind. He is curious, and he welcomes the chance to connect with her here-- but he will not push where he isn't wanted.

When she doesn't object, he leans over and pushes the bookcase aside.

It's an unassuming little area, really - no more than a dirt cave behind the house. A large chest, several display cases and crates and a table covered in scrolls.

-----

The table first, and the scroll on it:

"Rite of the Timeless Body," Hector says thoughtfully. "What's that about? I'd best ask Jaheira."

"I found a strange scroll in your sanctuary. Something about a 'timeless body'?"

She snorts. "The threat of spanking never kept the children from poking through my things. Why should it deter you." She glances at the paper on the table. "It is... a ritual. Or it describes one at least. Practiced by druids of certain esoteric circles. If they be learned and powerful enough, the practitioner of this ritual might slow their aging, extend their life well beyond its natural reach. In greener days, I might have been strong enough to do it. I might be yet, with the right preparations."

Hector blinks. "So you plan to do it?"

Jaheira hesitates, shrugs. "I make no plans. Only... contingencies." She scowls, seeing the expression on his face. "Do not look at me like that. I have been content to see the span of my natural years - a privilege far too few in this world can claim. I do not speak of clinging to life for its own sake. I just... look back on that life's work and I wonder... is it done?"

She lets out a heavy breath and leans against the wall of the building behind them. "The Dead Three plague the world still. The city still falls prey to small minds like Gortash or lost souls like Orin. It is every Harper's hope to be a light that drives out darkness. But I've lived long enough to see so many of those lights burn out, while the shadows cling stubbornly on. Knowing that, isn't it our duty to burn on if we can? To fight for as long as we are able?"

Karlach gives a sudden, sharp laugh at Hector's side. "You're preaching to the doomed choir, ma'am," she says sardonically.

Jaheira smiles sadly. "You've done more than your share of fighting already, Karlach," she says. "If there is one person I would trust to make the most of a longer life, it is you."

Hector knows he shouldn't ask, he knows it isn't fair with Karlach standing right there to hear him... but the words slip out anyway. "Would you live on at any cost?" he asks.

She quirks an eyebrow at him. "In truth, I had put this ritual from my mind - until Last Light. Trapped in that darkness, I turned to my research again. What if I was a little stronger? As fast as I once had been?" She shrugs. "Then you came, and made the question moot. But I kept this. Just in case, I told myself. A final resort. Perhaps you were not the savior you seemed. I had learned better than to think of life as some simple tale, after all. There is no guarantee of happy endings, or true heroes."

She looks at him thoughtfully for a moment before going on. "I believe that still. But when I look on all we have achieved since, I wonder... perhaps it is not heroes we need. Only people who are willing to try. I do not know what manner of story that makes. But I do know that, without an ending, it would be no story at all." She gives a short, sharp nod. "So I will accept mine, when and however it comes. As for this city's story, well..." She grins suddenly, pockets the scroll. "Well, that is entirely your problem now, cub."

He smiles slightly. "I'm honored you think of me that way."

"Hah. Do not thank me for slinging a weight around your neck," she says dryly. "I might start to feel bad." She huffs out a breath and shakes her head. "I do mean what I say - but I am also a Harper. In every honeyed word, there is a hook. But I do not plan on going anywhere just yet."

She pauses, and then grins with gallows humor. "And besides, you still have a tadpole in your skull. You are almost certainly going to die first."

Hector doesn't really think that's particularly funny.

-----

(A/N: Time for some incredibly self-indulgent headcanon - in this worldstate and in my particular headcanons for Jaheira post-BG2, you cannot convince me that she didn't obtain the information on that ritual partially for Rasaad, knowing she was going to outlive him by a century and not wanting to face losing another man she loved. Though I think the more altruistic explanations for her wanting it still also applied. (And perhaps Rasaad wouldn't have accepted it anyway even if she'd been able to figure it out.) She does say she put it aside for quite a while, until Last Light. Probably after Rasaad died.)

-----

Throwbacks!

There are two Very Rare quality weapons in the chest opposite the table:

This is a scimitar first found in a haybale near the Druid's Grove outside Trademeet, in Baldur's Gate 2.

This staff is obtained in Watcher's Keep in the Throne of Bhaal expansion. Caden (to my recollection) never went there during my playthrough, but that doesn't mean he didn't while I wasn't paying attention. ;) Cespenar also apparently can upgrade it in the pocket plane.

I miss Cespenar. I hope he's doing well.

-----

Finally, at the back of the room is a slightly dusty-looking display case.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Aw man, c'mon, I just teared up. You can't hit me with a throwback like that and expect me to remain normal.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

This is the necklace that Khalid makes for Jaheira (if you help him) in the Siege of Dragonspear expansion between BG1 and BG2. He was incredibly cute about it and talked about how he declared his love for her for the first time. SHE was incredibly cute about it and talked about how lucky she was to have him. The item description was also incredibly cute and talked about how just wearing it revitalized her.

HNNNNGNNNGHHHH I NEED TO GO LIE DOWN.

*quiet wailing*

We can ask her about it further, too.

"About that amulet I found in your house..."

"Oh dear," she says, looking at him warily. "Should I brace myself for some fashion advice?"

She pauses, then sighs. "But I suppose you have earned better than glibness from me. It was a gift from my husband, Khalid."

He can hear the emotion that rockets through her with the single word. He is sure he sounds much the same when he speaks of Karlach.

"He was a Harper," she goes on. Her expression grows distant, lost in memory. "A better one than me, truth be told. Any idiot can swing a sword. But to believe in the cause, with the whole of your heart? A much trickier thing."

She draws a breath and lets it out shakily. "He died. Alone, in pain, and far too young. Murdered by a mage who craved immortality." A muscle works in her cheek. "I'll not grant it by naming him in the same breath as my husband."

[HISTORY] Recall what you know of Khalid.

Narrator: The quiet, unassuming shadow to Jaheira's strength, Khalid was another warrior who helped end the Bhaalspawn crisis. Shortly after, he was murdered by the mad mage Jon Irenicus.

Hector and Jaheira have spoken of this a little before. Jaheira first mentioned him in the context of Karlach's engine, and the impending similar loss that Hector faces himself. In that moment, and in this one, he felt and feels a sudden deep surge of connection with her, a terrible bond that steadies and reassures him even if he wishes neither of them had to bear it. He is not alone, and neither is she. He hopes his presence gives her similar solace.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I hope I didn't bring up any bad memories."

She smiles weakly. "Nothing that wasn't already there, fear not," she says. "But I've lived many lifetimes since Khalid died. You, ah..." She trails off before the slight shiver in her voice can take root and blossom into tears. "You twine your life around the people you love. And when they are gone, you grow around their absence instead. It is just another way they shape you..."

She swallows, then goes on suddenly louder, faster-- "Which is my sage way of saying... I am in no danger of forgetting how my husband died. But I choose to remember how he lived."

(A/N: God, the writing in this game is gorgeous.)

Hector wonders, briefly, what Karlach thinks of this conversation, but he does not dare to look at her, or that same emotion will rise into his own throat and choke him. Instead, he focuses on Jaheira, listening intently. I choose to remember how he lived. "Tell me something about him no one else knows," he says, tone deliberately light.

She gives a slight laugh. "Most Harpers swagger and flash their feathers to catch your attention. Khalid was of a quieter sort," she says. "I have never known a warrior who would go so far out of his way to avoid a fight. Which meant the few he chose were usually the right ones." She pauses, and then laughs again, shakier this time. "And when we were married... on an upturned cart in the rainy Dalelands... he stammered so much, I've never been sure if our vows actually counted."

Hector smiles. "You seem an odd pairing," he says, gently teasing.

Her eyes narrow, taking on a sudden almost playful air. "The druid in me would like to say it was a thing of balance. The younger woman recalls rather more about a fine bottom-- and the habit not to speak unless he had something to say."

This comment is so unexpected that it startles a laugh out of Hector - and he's relieved to hear Karlach laughing too, behind him. Jaheira looks rather pleased with herself at the reaction.

"The songs make much of Khalid's meekness," she goes on after a little while, more seriously. "The quiet little Harper who had to keep a tight hold on his courage. But he had it when it counted. And more than that-- he had compassion. When you live a Harper's life, see all that a Harper sees, that is by far the harder thing to hold onto."

She looks down at the aquamarine pendant in her hands, then slips it around her neck. "But a bard can tell you all the rest," she says, turning away. "As for all the things they cannot... well. I shall just have to keep those for myself."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #AHHHHHHHHHHH #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #y'all i love jaheira so much okay #and i'm having so many feels and this post is enormous and and and #i'm a mess #weh #yes this is all massive fan service but i am a fan and i am here to be serviced #so thank you larian #i will probably have to write some drabbles or something about followup to this #either hec talking with jaheira or hec with karlach #or karlach with jaheira :O #oh man having ideas #but it's 1am so i should go to bed right now XD #jaheira #jaheira bg3 #bg3 jaheira #khalid

[raycatzdraws]

Sky: Season of RiME

A Sky: Children of the Light x RiME fan season.

A mysterious red cloaked figure and a young crowned boy, Enu, have appeared in the kingdom of Sky. Accompany Enu on his journey to discover who this red cloaked figure is and to recall Enu's past.

I think Sky and RiME would work really well as a collab season. More thoughts under the cut!

---

Enu acts as an NPC companion during quests, much like the Little Prince. However, because he cannot fly and doesn't always want to hold hands, the player has to find more grounded ways to guide him. The player gets to experience Sky anew through Enu's eyes, and act as a friend and comfort through the joys and sorrows the journey brings.

There are five seasonal spirits and quests, one for each of the levels from RiME. Each of the spirits is an echo or memory of Enu's, and in the final quest you reunite him with these spirits in Orbit. I have a good idea of what cosmetics each of these spirits will offer. Denial brings a violin and humming emote, there's a costume to match the bird from Anger, a sentinel costume, a shade costume (and conch shell instrument), outfits to match both Enu and the red cloaked season guide, and many toys and props.

The season would take place in the Isle of Dawn, with the red cloaked figure acting as the season guide. A boat appears on one of the shores in Isle, which will take the player to a simplified version of the island from the first level of RiME.

The season credits would occur on a level that includes the boat from RiME's cutscenes, as well as the house from the finale. The level is a stark white plane, starting with the first wrecked ship. With each additional ship passed, the scene gains more color, leading to the house. Enu and Manu can be found inside, and their locations rotate depending on the day (like the office spirits.) An IAP item, Enu's Raincoat, would act like the Asteroid Jacket or Wings of AURORA, and would allow the player to visit this location.

This season would also go very well alongside a PC release for Sky👀. Perhaps there could be some kind of promotional discount for the season's iap through Epic or Steam if the player owns a copy of RiME. This would encourage players to buy and play the game, as the season would spoil some of the story.

Sky has touched on grief in the Season of Remembrance and The Little Prince. However, I believe a collab season with RiME would allow them to go more in depth with this theme. The story of RiME is something that creeps up on you and then hits devastatingly hard when everything falls into place. But it also offers a safe environment in which to feel those emotions. I'd love to see more of this kind of emotional storytelling in Sky and use the space to not only feel these emotions, but experience them with others. (It'd also be really entertaining to watch other players go through this ajhsgdfsf)

#thatskygame #sky children of the light #sky cotl #rime #rime game #rime enu #tequila works #season of rime #crossover #I stayed up like waaaaay too late last night writing out all of the quests 'xD #I also have ideas for the spirit emote memories - lots of props - and some new gameplay if it fits! #I don't know if I have the skill to portray these ideas well #but I want to try!

[teecupangel]

"comes out of the coffin with a hot tea"

I HAVE AN IDEA! Stupid one... but still one! Another one of Desmond's being thrown into the past, but this time the apple has read too much about fainting Victorian women and made him in some sort sickly (We can make it as a backlash to almost dying and his burned arm). I mean.... what can i say! I just love the duality of a character that in one moments seems like a breeze can knock them down and in the next they win against you with only a stick in hand!

"sips some tea"

That would also made a good cover for Desmond! If he was trying to not put himself under the radar of his ancestors of course. Who would believe that the most sickly man in -put a city name here- is able to clime roofs, fight off the guards and also win without a scratch? Maybe Connor? Malik? Who knows! :D

"throws the coffin out the window and leaves through the door "

(stares the window for a moment… well, okay. I mean… I have no idea how a coffin could fit thru that but okay)

I mean… if you really want Desmond to have some kind of handicap of the ‘sickly’ kind, may I suggest the setup for “The Villainess's Days Are Numbered!” where the main character’s HP keeps getting depleted? This means... even taking one step gives him a -1HP penalty and stressful times (or any time he overexerts himself) gives him a double HP reduction penalty (which means that -1HP turns to -2HP). Oh, and his default HP is only 1210 and he can gain a max HP reduction if the circumstances call for it)... maybe even go down as far as 200 max HP, hhhhmmm?

This means we have the ‘joy’ of making Desmond have to maintain his HP XD

So Desmond has to be bedridden to keep his HP up before he does any ‘stunts’.

It would be funny if we place him in a very awkward position too.

For example…

Third Crusades? He’s one of Ṣalāḥ ad-Dīn’s children. Hell, he could be the son who took over Ḥalab so we have an excuse to place him during the time of Altaïr’s Chronicles.

Renaissance Italy? Make him the ‘child’ of one of the many clergymen against Rodrigo becoming pope to give an excuse for Ezio to ‘know’ of him. Bonus points? Make him a relative of Cardinal Ascanio Sforza

American Revolution? One of the Schuyler children (Philip Schuyler has a lot but you can pick one of the Schuyler sisters if you want to make this a Hamilton reference or if you just want Desmond to be part of all that drama in general XD)

The main point is… Desmond has to maintain his sickly body, all the while making plans how to screw up the timelines without anyone noticing it.

#let’s be honest #altaïr would be super sus of this sickly man #for the sole purpose that he doesn’t know him #ezio could be more or less just know him by name only #ratonhnhaké:ton would be the one to not know him #until later on #because they go in ‘different circles’ #it would be easier if desmond was just some random sick person living in [insert city here] #but make him have an important standing #to make him suffer more hehehe #alas my love for rofan shows up again XD #assassin's creed #desmond miles #altaïr ibn la'ahad #ezio auditore #ratonhnhaké:ton #connor kenway #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #sickly desmond au

[hannaswritingblog]

“Do you find me brave yet?” Neville Longbottom prompt

Fandom: Harry Potter

Suggested by @winterxisxcomingx

A/N: I almost gave up on this idea, as well as on others that are waiting for me from before my unexpected break, but I needed something to get back on track anyway and sometimes all you need is an old suggestion. :D I hope you'll enjoy this!

The battle at the Department of Mysteries certainly wasn't something you expected to take part in on this summer night. Confused and exhausted, all you want is to find some rest. But before you can lay and try to get any sleep, you feel the need to make sure all your friends are taken care of.

The only person gone from your radar is Neville Longbottom. A bit worried, you decide to find him, wherever he is. After a solid hour of searching, you come across him at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

"Hey," you say softly, trying to get his attention. "What are you doing here, all alone?"

"I'm so- I'm sorry, I just needed t-to rest for a while," he explains in a shaky voice.

"Oh, don't apologise! A lot happened today, I understand needing to rest. But I was worried about you."

You try to soothe your friend, sitting next to him and putting your hand on his. You wish you had words to comfort him more, but after everything that happened in the Ministry of Magic, nothing that would be good enough comes to your mind.

"Do you find me brave yet?" he asks out of the blue.

Startled by the sound of his voice, you don't immediately answer.

"Wh-what do you mean?" you ask back, wondering what he even wants to hear.

"Well... I know I will never get to Harry's level, and that I'll never be as appreciated as Hermione, or even the Weasleys," he starts explaining, "but one thing I want is to be worthy of being a Gryffindor. And everyone knows Gryffindors are brave. I was hoping..."

"Okay, stop for a second here," you interrupt him. "So you think you're not brave?"

"I don't see why I wouldn't think that. I'm afraid of everything."

You let out a sigh. Having always seen Neville as one of the bravest people you know, it never crossed your mind he could see himself in a different light.

"If you were afraid of everything, you wouldn't go to the Ministry tonight, would you?"

Neville doesn't answer you, clearly trying to process your words. Taking advantage of his silence, you add:

"Besides, the Sorting Hat would have made a different choice if you weren't brave enough to be a Gryffindor. And yet you are one."

"Are you trying to say you do find me brave?" he finally speaks again.

"Of course, silly! I never doubted that."

A soft smile lightens up his face and you're sure he believed you. Knowing how much you must've helped him, you start feeling a little better yourself.

It's been a long night, the night that's just a beginning of tough times, but this conversation made it a little bit more bearable.

#I just checked and the ask with the suggestions was send in February XD well well #if any of you have some more please send them!!! I'm actually excited to be back to writing fanfiction #hanna's writing #hannaswritingblog #fanfiction #prompt #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter prompt #neville longbottom #neville longbottom fanfiction #neville longbottom prompt #neville longbottom x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #suggested #winterxisxcomingx

[phoenixcatch7]

Love the idea of each previous hero's journey being mostly lost to time, such that each time the cycle starts again absolutely no one picks up the very obvious clues that might lead them to the hero.

Oh, you've named your blond haired blue eyed child Link, have you? That's a good name!

Oh, he's found a strange red and white maned horse he's named epona who has utterly bonded with him? How unusual!

Yes, the princess Zelda is the same age, isn't she? What a good omen for the family!

We know he doesn't talk much, but he's the sweetest lad, don't worry!

Don't fret, dearie, his wanderlust will abate when he grows up, I'm sure it won't get him in too much trouble before then.

Prodigious little swordsman, isn't he? He would make a great knight if he wanted to when he's older!

Oh? Rumours about a long forgotten temple in the woods? How strange! Are you sure it's not just the children telling stories?

Look at him in his armoured green outfit! That hat looks lovely on him - where did you find it?

#It's so funny #In just about every Zelda I've played there's been about a hundred signs link is In The Building and no one ever notices #Twilight Princess was the absolute worst everyone just kept bringing up Its The Hero stuff and it just was not clicking #By the time we got to epona I was half tempted to make a bingo card #Heck he even has a tree house!! #Strong oot time genes there XD #There's something about loading up a Zelda game and going 'yup. This is a Zelda game alright' but NO ONE in universe notices #YOU ACTUALLY LIVE THERE YOU GUYS STUDY THIS IN HISTORY CLASS #it also opens up the great trope of link casually knowing stuff from previous lives he absolutely shouldn't and nobody taking it seriously #Until he comes back with the master sword #Some of those games were particularly bonkers and if the specifics never got recorded then there's no way anyone would believe them #A zora princess tried to marry the hero?? Lmao try writing fanfic #Listen I know it says the hero came from the woods but kokiri don't exist he would have just lived in a cottage or something #How dare you besmirch the hero's honour! He would never lower himself to base property damage! Never mind pots! #No hylian can ever wrestle a goron are you insane?? #Talking boat.... Sure #But you just KNOW Zelda would get some scholars and they'd hang off his every word #I love fics where link just casually references some world shaking knowledge (ie rito being zora descended and their own squid ancestors) #Or what the divine beasts were named after #Or what time travel feels like #Or that the myths hylians came from the skies are true #Or what one Zelda did when she vanished centuries ago #Or what the giant skeletons were #That kind of thing #Sorry I rambled #long post #legend of zelda #loz #loz zelda #loz link

[kittylover776]

Random Thought:

I once read a fic where Nick is accidentally shrunken by the tablet to make him Jed and Octavius’ size, so what if Ahk allows Teddy, Wea, Atilla, and the rest of the gang to be miniatures for the night so their small companions can show them around their exhibits? I’m sure the two would be more than happy to give them a tour. It would also allow the bigger gang to experience what it’s like being small, and what the pros and cons of it are.

It’d be kinda adorable, tbh.

#Not sure if Larry would be small too or at some point be like: “Where the heck is everyone?!?”. #And Ahk having to explain he allowed their friends to be small for the night in which Larry slightly freaks out. 😅 #Don’t worry he get’s used to the idea…eventually. XD #Nick’s also there too and he enjoys having Jed teach him how to ride a horse and Octavius teaching him how to pull a chariot. 👍 #Would be a cute little slice-of-life fic to make. #Perhaps I could write it someday. :) #natm nicky #natm ahkmenrah #natm larry daley #natm teddy roosevelt #natm sacagawea #natm jedtavius #natm octavius #natm amelia earhart #night at the museum

[cuubism]

well it's taken 2000+ pages but brandon sanderson finally gave me exactly what i didn't know i wanted all along: a toxic codependent friend group that took over the world

#crawling on the floor lapping up every crumb of the dalinar / sadeas / gavilar / navani / ialai totalitarian quintet #you spend 2 books thinking this government must have some form of inherent legitimacy but no it was founded 20 years ago by a group of #20 year olds who decided they wanted to 'unite the country' by killing everyone who stood in their way. delicious #stormlight is like a fererro rocher where you assume the inner layers are hazelnut but once you eat through the chocolate shell it's #actually hydrochloric acid. superb. i love when the past is not only a specter haunting the present but is in fact the very #termite infested foundation of the present causing it to collapse in on itself #i've got almost no writing done the last few days bc i've been thinking about it instead XD #stormlight archive #stormlight spoilers

[hwaitham]

post exam delicacies :3 🌸🍵⭐️

#𓈒 ۫ 𝓹𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓮 𐂯 𝓹𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮𝓼 ₊⠀ೀ #deleting that pic of me in like . 5 mins that’s as long as u get it for > < #it has only been 4 hours since i finished writing n i did so much 😭 biked to the lake n read some of a story #n went to indigo to treat myself to a gift ( furuba anime drawings i am so so so excited to look thru them ! ! xD ) #n now i am #looking thru m inbox n msgs n fics i have to read n i am a bit overwhelmed so . . im rllie srrie if it takes me some time to get back to u #🥺

[adrift-in-thyme]

The Ghost in the Lost Woods

While trying to navigate the Lost Woods Link meets a strangely familiar figure

Ao3 | Fic beneath the cut

————————————

When he ends up at the entrance to the Lost Woods for the twentieth time Link is forced to finally admit it. He’s lost, hopelessly so.

With a sigh, he ignites his torch once more. This is the only part of the woods he’s been to so far where he can actually see two feet in front of him. Everything else is bathed in thick fog that he can make neither heads nor tails of.

Supposedly, the wind is meant to guide his steps and bring him to the place where the Master Sword awaits.

Supposedly.

It certainly hasn’t helped him yet.

Maybe he should turn back. He casts a glance over his shoulder to where he knows the path lies, hopelessly obscured by the fog. He could set up camp right outside the forest, cook something warm and hearty, get some sleep. Then, when morning dawned he’d be up bright and early, ready to try again.

But he doesn’t want to give up, not yet, not now when he’s already wasted half of a day trying to navigate these blasted woods.

He takes a deep breath, steels himself, and heads forward once more.

He makes it five steps before the mist closes in, the telltale giggles of Koroks fill his ears, and the forest spits him out…right back at the entrance.

Link lets out a growl of frustration. How’s he supposed to pull the sword when he can’t even find it? He stumbled upon it before, a mere chance encounter when he was a child playing amongst the trees. Why is it so very difficult now?

Does the Goddess not want him to find it? Has she deemed him unworthy after his miserable failure?

It wouldn’t surprise him.

He extinguishes his torch and walks over to the nearest tree. Flopping down, he leans against it and closes his eyes. The sounds of the forest drift to his ears, carried on the wings of the wind that failed him. Usually, they’re calming, a balm on his frayed nerves, grounding him when the weight of everything becomes too much. But today they only serve to remind him that even nature itself rejects him.

He lets out a bitter laugh. He’s unworthy of a forest now. Fancy that.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?”

A voice slices through the quiet, pushing aside his dismal thoughts. Link opens his eyes.

“Huh?”

A tall man dressed in a full plate of armor gazes down at him, his one eye twinkling with something like amusement.

“I asked if you were lost.”

Link blinks once, twice. He has the oddest feeling he’s met this man before, maybe even known him well. But that can’t be. He makes a point of remembering everyone he comes across on his travels and he’s never even seen this man, much less gotten to know him.

Then again, he doesn’t even remember the faces of his parents. If this man is from his past, there is little chance he would recall him now.

“Umm.”

Eyes narrowing, he looks from the man to the woods and back again. He could be a Yiga, of course. That would explain his unexpected appearance. He has never seen Yiga in these parts though. No doubt they’re afraid to venture too close to the mysterious Lost Woods. And, then, there’s also the fact that he isn’t wearing one of their trademark suits, nor offering to sell him overpriced bananas.

Besides, this man has a strange sort of aura about him, almost like the feeling Link gets when he uses one of the Champion’s powers. He must possess strong magic–maybe even dark magic if the odd markings on his face are any indication. Yet, he dresses like a knight.

And to make matters even stranger, he wavers slightly out of focus if Link stares at him for too long, skin turning just the tiniest bit bluish and translucent. With him standing with his back to the woods, Link has the distinct impression of a phantom emerging from the hazy darkness of the trees.

This man is no ordinary traveler, that much is terribly obvious.

Link frowns up at him, hand drifting ever so slowly to his slate. “Who are you?”

The man smiles, kind and a bit sad. “You can call me Time.”

Time.

Link’s frown deepens. There it is again, the feeling of unexplainable familiarity, as though he’s heard that name before.

“And you’re…traveling through these woods too?”

“You could say that.”

Slowly, Link stands, careful to keep his hand by his slate. He hasn’t tested Stasis on magical beings or ghosts, but it’s worth a try. At the very least, he might be able to take advantage of the element of surprise. His efforts to be nonchalant must not be too effective, though, because Time’s gaze flits to his hip.

“You don’t have to worry,” he says, evenly. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Then, why are you here?”

He regards him calmly, arms crossed over his chest. “To guide the hero to his birthright. That is what you’re after, isn’t it?”

Link’s blood runs cold. Usually, he has no qualms about strangers knowing who and what he is. But usually, they’re random civilians more interested in meeting their crush or seeing a mythical weapon than anything else. And they certainly don’t possess any magical abilities. For this man, however, this strange knight who practically emanates power to know who he is, feels…well it doesn’t feel wrong at all. In fact, it feels as right as following Zelda’s voice or setting the Divine Beasts free. It feels like destiny.

And that is what terrifies him.

“What,” he chokes, “what makes you think I’m the hero?”

Time smirks. “To attempt to pass through these woods you must either be incredibly foolish or incredibly courageous. And you don’t strike me as a fool.”

Link swallows down the fear lodged in his throat. He isn’t entirely sure what to say to that. He’s never been a good liar, that much is for certain, but sometimes he really, really wishes he was.

“Besides,” Time continues, reaching down to pull off one of his gauntlets, “it’s not all that difficult to recognize someone else who possesses the unbreakable spirit.”

He holds up his hand and Link’s eyes go wide. There on his skin is the mark of the Triforce, its far right corner bolded in gold.

Link stares at it, almost not believing what he’s seeing. Slowly, he drags his gaze back up to meet Time’s.

“You—you’re a hero too?”

“I was.” Time replaces his gauntlet, that sorrowful smile lifting his lips once more. “But that was a very long time ago.”

“And now you’re a ghost.”

He chuckles. “Yes, and now I’m a ghost.”

Link runs a hand through his bangs and blows out a breath.

“Okay, wow.”

“Is it really that strange to you?” Time lifts an eyebrow, quizzically. “You’re over a hundred years old, and you often travel with the spirit of your predecessor.”

Link tilts his head questioningly. “Wolfie? How do you know about him?”

“I have my ways.”

Link lets out an exasperated huff. Of course, he’d get the most cryptic ghost in all of Hyrule to guide him. Even Wolfie gives straighter answers than that and he’s incapable of speech.

But Time is gesturing toward the forest now, and Link can tell that particular question isn’t one he’ll get an answer to.

“So, shall we go?”

Link takes one last look at the path and then nods. If he can’t trust the ghost of a past hero, who can he trust?

“Lead on, old man.”

Emotion surges across Time’s face, then is gone faster than Link has time to identify it. He turns away.

“These woods are treacherous,” he says, tone suspiciously level. “Stay close.”

He plunges into the mist, and Link jogs after him.

“Treacherous?”

The only dangers he’s found here are wolves and stalfos. And given that he encounters those practically everywhere he goes, he’s more inclined to label them as incredibly annoying.

Time skewers him with a somber glance. “Those who don’t know how to navigate these woods are swallowed by them. They become stalfos, cursed to wander forever. The forest children have kept you safe from this fate.”

“Oh.”

Well, that certainly brings up more than a few questions and a good bit of discomfort. Suddenly, the fog crowding him on either side seems infinitely more threatening, and Link finds himself gravitating closer to his guide.

“So, how come you know how to get through here when no one else does?” he asks, pivoting on his heel as Time makes an unexpected turn.

The old man’s expression grows nostalgic. “I grew up here. Well, not here exactly, but the Lost Woods in my Hyrule aren’t so different from these.”

Link hums, thoughtfully. He hadn’t thought anyone inhabited this forest save for monsters, animals, and Koroks. But it’s not too hard to imagine that long ago in a different Hyrule this man called the Lost Woods his home. He navigates them with confidence and skill, almost as though the trees themselves are guiding him with silent, invisible hands. And if he were wearing green, Link suspects he would look like he truly belonged here.

“Is this your responsibility, then?” he asks. “To guide people through these woods?”

“No,” Time answers, calmly. “I am only here to guide you.”

Link goes quiet once more, mulling over that in his head. It’s one thing for the Champions, and Zelda, and even Wolfie to guide and protect him. It’s quite another for this man, only connected to him through shared destiny, to show up to aid him, and after all this time too.

It makes so little sense. Then again, he’s found that to be a sort of trend lately.

A blupee darts past them, and he watches it, almost idly wondering if he should take a shot at it. But then it comes an abrupt stop right in front of Time, looking up at him almost expectantly. Time pauses and reaches down to run a gentle hand over it’s head. The animal leans closer, emitting a small, happy sounding noise, and Link shakes his head in disbelief.

“They always run from me.”

As if on cue, the blupee stiffens, bright eyes locking onto him, then disappears in a puff of blue. Time turns to him, something almost accusatory in his gaze.

“Perhaps, if you stopped shooting at them they would be more inclined to stay.” He straightens and makes a beckoning motion with his hand. “Now, come, we’re almost there.”

Link follows him, feeling strangely chastised and a bit annoyed.

It isn’t enough to just be cryptic, apparently, Time has to be judgmental too.

“I don’t wanna hurt them,” he says after a few moments drift by and the need to defend himself still hasn’t gone away. “I’m just always light on rupees.”

“There are other ways of earning rupees, you know,” Time says, tone still infuriatingly level.

With a petulant scowl, Link goes back to plodding along in silence.

It’s not long, though, before the fog begins to dissipate, and Link can see the beginnings of a tunnel looming up ahead. Time comes to a halt a short distance before it and gestures toward it.

“We’re here.”

Link steps forward, almost hesitantly. After trying so hard to get here, he isn’t sure what to do now. The Master Sword awaits him just past these trees – “his birthright,” as Time put it.

But after his miserable failure, can he possibly pull it? Or will it deem him unworthy of another chance to save his kingdom?

He doesn’t even realize that he’s standing frozen, rooted to the spot, until a hand comes to rest on his shoulder. Jumping slightly in surprise, he raises his head to meet Time’s gaze. All judgment is gone now, replaced by something kind and understanding. He might, Link realizes with a jolt of surprise, even call it fatherly.

“You are equipped to rise to this challenge,” he says, firmly. “You have worked diligently to prepare for this moment. Now, it is time to claim what is rightfully yours.”

He gives Link the slightest nudge and he steps forward, heart in his throat.

He’s right, it’s time. But…

“And if I’m not–if I’m not ready for this…”

“The sword holds a strict standard, I know. But I have no doubt you will measure up to it.”

His hands are trembling, his stomach churning, but Link takes another step and another. The tunnel is like a gaping maw, ready to devour him, and spit him out bruised and battered by the expectations he can never meet. There is a pull too though, an indescribable feeling that draws him forth, as though he belongs here, as though taking these very steps was written in his history from the start.

As though his failure and all the consequences of it has all led to this, pivotal moment.

His feet carry him, his body moves for him, and it feels right.

“Go, my son,” Time says, voice fading into the mist, “and do not falter.”

Link steps into the sun.

It’s only when it’s all said and done, when the sword is in his hands, and the Deku Tree’s words are ringing in his ears, and the forest children are crowding around him, eager to meet his every need that he sees them. A gray wolf and a golden one sit a short distance away, cloaked by the mist, unnoticed by anyone save for him. And when his eyes meet theirs, there is pride in their gazes.

#I’ve seen some awesome artworks on here depicting the hero of time leading botw link through the lost woods #and just had to write something similar #also #I’m obsessed with the headcanon that wild is twilight’s descendant and so time’s too #wouldn’t it be cool if they both watched out for him? #two guardian grandpa wolves just following him around and judging him for his crazy antics lol #and of course protecting him #…and also taking part in those crazy antics cause we all know they’re gremlins too XD #anyway #might have to write something longer along those lines someday #loz #botw #linkeduniverse #lu time #lu wild #trin writes #hero’s shade #kinda

[skyward-floored]

Man who knew a single page of a manga could take so long to write out in fic format

#instead of just looking at what’s going on you have to describe it all and figure out thoughts and feelings and #WHEW #it’s the same with writing out movie scenes but worse in some ways #why do I do this to myself XD #rambles from the floor

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader: AFAB!reader Character: Trafalgar Law Kink: #4 Orgasm Denial Prompt: #1 "Beg for it." Gift Giver: @likesugarandcyanide

Summary: Law has you on edge, and that's where you'll stay until you've stated your needs in a properly detailed manner.

Content Notes: so much dirty talk, oral given, vaginal sex, use of slut affectionately, pet names, swearing, loads of begging.

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

You struggle, twisting futilely in a hold that doesn’t afford you as much movement as you expected. Save for a pair of socks, you were naked in bed, a fully-clothed Trafalgar Law between your thighs. One leg was over each of his shoulders, your legs dangling in the air as he’s crouched beside the bed. His hands are holding your wrists, and so you can’t squirm away, you can’t move closer easily, and you can’t force him to continue.

His lips are wet with your pleasure. Your face is wet with frustration.

“Law, by the fucking seas, please!” You cry into the room. He’s brought you to the edge three times now and you were almost painfully horny when the evening had begun.

“You can do better than that.” He muses, giving your clit a lick and making your body shiver. “You can be precise.”

Keeping his hold on your wrists his face pushes back into your folds, shaking his head side to side until he’s parted your lips with his own and given his tongue direct access to your clit. Your words garble in your throat, and you throw your head back as the pleasure makes your body shiver. You couldn’t even bring your legs together to try and push him away and give yourself a break.

He wasn’t going to let you cum, so the building pleasure was almost more torture than it was pleasure, but your legs were shaky and tired. Nearly cumming was still an exertion and you were covered in sweat, breathing heavy as your twitching legs slipped down his shoulders while he pushed himself in closer.

“Laaaaaaaw,” you groan in frustration, body arcing against the building pleasure again, your toes curling, you knew he wasn’t going to push you over, but you chased after the sensation anyway. Desperate and needy for release, if only you could keep your mouth shut.

But it wasn’t your sounds that gave you away. It was the fingers against your wrist that made him lean back.

“Beg dirty for me,” he commands, licking the inside of your thigh, causing your entire body to flinch. “Show me how creative you can get.”

“I caaan’t,” you whimper. “I can’t get creative when I can’t think!”

“Desperate then,” Law teases, pushing his tongue past your labia and plunging it deep inside you. He lets out a satisfied grunt as he pushes in deeper, letting his nose tease your clit as his tongue works inside your pussy.

“Fuuugggnnnnnh!” You nearly swear, legs spreading wide on their own, wanting him deeper since you couldn’t be rid of the stimulation. “Fuck, Law, please! Please just fah-fah-fuck me! Fill my – my, hnnngh, pah-pussy with your cock! Please! Please just ra-rail me you bastard, please!”

You’re gasping and whimpering as Law leans back and gives you a look.

“Fuh… fuck me stupid, please.” You whimper.

“Desperate and vulgar.” He muses, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

He stands up, unzipping his pants and setting his hard cock against your wet slit, rubbing it against you slowly. “Don’t stop,” he commands, grabbing your ankles as he continues to tease you.

“Ahmm – please, please put it… in me.” You gasp as he holds your legs out wide. “I’m be-being good, so please.”

“It?” He quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Your cock!” You cry, covering your face for a second before you move your hands away. “Please put your cock in my pussy, Law I am dying.”

“That’s my sweet snowdrop,” he grins, pushing into you slowly. The pressure, the stretch, the sensation of him inside of you is its own relief and you grab onto the sheets beneath you as the pleasure soaks through your body.

Your legs twitch in his grasp as his hips connect with your thighs, filling you entirely. He shifts a bit, pushing your ankles back as he slips a little deeper into you. You gasp at the sensation as your body welcomes him in deeper.

He begins to move, slow and long thrusts, nearly pulling out entirely before he pushes back in, grinding against you, his body teasing rough against your clit before he pulls back out. Despite the slow pace, you can feel pleasure rippling out through your body.

“Please, please Law, fa-faster.” You beg, your hips twisting and shifting as much as they can with his control of your legs.

“You’re twitching and clutching me so sweetly already.” He teases, moving only a little bit faster. “I can fill your sweet little cunt just like this.”

You nod, gasping in pleasure from his actions. “Please, please fill me up, let me, let me cum, Law, please!”

“Let you cum? This entire time, you’ve only been begging for me to fill you up.” He points out, picking up his pace as he licks his lips. “Now, suddenly, you want to cum? All this time and you were just being a greedy slut, hmm?”

You cry for a second, frustration and the hazy bliss building in you, made it hard to sort out little more other than the fact he was threatening to leave you hanging again.

“Together!” You cry in desperation. “I want to cum with you, please!”

Law’s pace hastens and your body’s shuddering with every thrust as he finally starts fucking you how you’ve wanted. “I didn’t say you couldn’t be a greedy slut,” he muses, letting your legs drape over his elbows as he grabs your wrists again. “But… you are beautiful when you’re… cumming as I fill your precious little cunt.”

There’s a shift in his voice and his angle and suddenly he’s hitting all of your sweet spots. His abs keep teasing your clit as he thrusts and grinds into you, sending jolts of pleasure racing through you and scrambling your already addled brain.

Your legs twitch and tense as the pleasure pools inside you, coiling tightly and forcing you to breathe in heavy, whimpering gasps.

“Almost.” He huffs, his pace picking up even more as he pins you between his body and the bed, railing into you as you had initially requested. The smack of skin against skin is off-set by the creaking of the bed as your body is pushed into the tight springs.

“There you go,” Law grins, pulling your arms to your hips as he leans down and assaults your neck, pushing your building pleasure over the edge in a rush.

You suck in a gasp of air as your entire body tenses. You squirm under him, trying to get away from the overwhelming crash of pleasure as you clamp down on his twitching cock. You can feel the slick mess as he empties himself inside you and your body reacts to it by nearly orgasming again, the jolt of pleasure making your body twitch and shudder.

Law’s hands are on you, caressing you and keeping you steady as he pulls out, soft kisses following the line of your jaw. He gives you a moment to catch your breath before he kisses your lips. A quiet smile, a small peck on the tip of your nose, and he steps back, setting your legs carefully onto the mattress.

“See? I knew you could be precise.” He teases, laughing as you stick out your tongue and give him a tired middle finger.

Check out the event - requests are accepted until 7/31/2023 EST

#birthday request event #trafalgar law #x reader #reader insert #trafalgar law x reader #one piece drabble #Oh Sugar - thank you for this gift. #I've had fun with all of them #but there's something about “mean” dom Law (or just ornery dom Law XD ) that gets me. #Need to write some Kid though #I'm like ten? of these in and I haven't done my fave yet. #(I have a couple Kid requests \o/ I just haven't gotten to 'em yet).