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seneon · 1 month

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senation lore part two : ice kingdom

WAR AFTER WARS... the kingdom of senation remains powerful and strong under the leadership and ruling of king sen, their mighty and conquering king. however, one day, the king felt silly and decided to venture away from his piles of paperworks. no weapons, no nothing. just a silly little letter addressed to his loyalest greatest servant.

so he ventured as he said he would. for hours he walked in the forest like a baka, not knowing where to go or what to do. just keep walking, tripping, and praying to the lord that he didn't even get up from his throne. he is lost. oh but! there's a giant magical portal there 😧😧😧

mighty king sen is curious. he then ventured through the magical blue / white portal in the middle of the woods. why? all out of the interest of skipping paperwork duties. he might be a might king in battle, but irl, he's lazy about paperworks. anyways.

a white light flashed before his majesty, revealing a beautiful woman in all glistening white. there is a flower in his hand, coincidentally, so he knelt down and offered the flower to the beautiful fairy. however. when she took the flower, she immediately FROZE. then the king flashed his eyes opened.

"heavens! what a realistically artistic image of a maiden in completely glorious and heavenly white garment that i just hath in my brains!!"

fast forward ⏩⏩⏩

people of the ice found the king venturing alone in the snow. of course, he is confused. however, they explained to him and said "great lord! you are our saviour! save us from cold hell!!!" and the king replied "of course! i am conquering sen overall! i shall save thee kingdom!!" he realised he has some cool gears on with an ice sword that never breaks, and realised that this.... is his time to shine. literally.

the ice people then prepared for war and they summoned their secret trump alpha monster card to assist king sen in the war. one of them then led the king to the ice palace, where the evil dark ice lord is.

together, they set out for war after regathering with the rest.

duudududud

WAAAAAARRRRRRR!!!!!!!

HIYYA

HUACKS

UEGH

EUFK

SHING

KACHING

RAAAARRGGGHHHHHH

WE FIGHT FOR FREEEDOOMMMM!!!!!

in the end... dark ice lord lost with the @saewako ice blade struck through his chest... and the ice nation...?

"MIGHTY SAVIOR SEN! MIGHTY SAVIOUR SEN! MIGHT SAVIOUR SEN!!!"

mighty and conquering sen once again saved the world (a land he didn't know how or why he got involved in but it's ok it's all good.) the ice people then thanked him and helped him prepare for his journey back to senation.

they bid each other goodbye, and that is the end of it. back in senation, general @milyz found the king stranded in the forest and immediately took king sen back to his palace. while king sen told the story to the general, the general laughed it off as the king being exposed too much poisonous plants in the forest and all that he needs is rest.

does the king know he killed the only king of the ice kingdom while all the ice people are evil...? well. that is for you to figure out.

𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖔𝖓.

STARRING. @milyz @saewako @amourlyns @wishmemel @saelestia @atrirose @rinzsu @omitea @hyoismbbg @todorokies @kaiser1ns @rizzmin @steleir @noirflms @peaktora @iluvies @sugurustattoo @bfajax @saturvue @honeydewsblue

note: hope u guys enjoyed pt2 of senation lore. read part one here. once again, this is pure crack 😭😭 pls don't kill me btw i spun the wheel to determine your roles mooties

#⋆ ❨ writing ❩ ֢֢֢ ۟#⋆ ❨ sennies ❩ ֢֢֢ ۟#senation lore

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coolaboutlucy · 4 months

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Love story au: you and Abby have a sort of forbidden secret romance 💛 takes place during medieval time.

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙨 | 𝙖. 𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣

pairing: abby anderson x afab!reader

tags: (sorta modernized!) shakespearean english, no smut, abbys father is mentioned, reader lowkey living that rapunzel lifestyle but like not rlly. 😭🙏, abby has a bow and arrow, im still terrible at tagging, so i probably missed some stuff??

a/n: honestly, i rlly only chose this song for this fic bc i was watching berlin while writing this and lowk.. i figured that it was fitting! honestly this prompt was super fun to do!!! i absolutely loved doing this, and i promise i will finish out my requests soon. 😭🙏 there’s still two more i have to start. uploads might be slow next week since i have some tests at school but ill def still try to be active here. ^^

You weren’t supposed to see each other, it was forbidden. Ever since your families began to quarrel, they had kept you held up in your room for seemingly no reason at all. Your father often fought with Abby’s, and they’d go extreme lengths to show their superiority, whether it be trading and buying the most expensive things they could, draping their daughters and significant other in the finest silks, or flat out going toe-to-toe with each other. Of course, you had already been seeing her secretly beforehand, and she showed you things you weren’t ever gonna be allowed to see. Fighting tournaments, erotic literature, the finest alcoholic beverages her kingdom had to offer, and how it felt to rebel. You loved doing these things with her.

These days, you’d been confined to the stone walls of your room, cold floors, and whatever other luxuries your father decided to drape you in. You were only allowed outside for a few minutes, or whatever your father allowed. It happened to be 45 minutes today. During this time you and Abby meet up secretly. Today, you found yourself running through the thick forest behind your castle. You were out of breath and your mouth went dry, but there she was. Her long braid would’ve been noticeable from any distance. You catch your breath and you stand up straight. “Abby.” You say with a smile. She turns to you with a smile, holding her bow and arrow. “Wherefore doth thee at each moment come running to see me? What is the reason behind thy eag'rness to seeth me?” The curiosity in her tone was playful. “I couldn’t possibly miss out on seeing thee. I'm willing to wend to most wondrous lengths just to beest with thee, coequal if 't be true t means running a million miles. You know that I can't be outside f'r long these days, so I want to make it count.” You admit as your smile grows. Abby chuckles. “Nobodys ever did like me so much to running to me ev'ryday. Concluded, be it, follow me. I want to showeth thee something, and I think you’d plaited it.”

Abby takes your hand and she leads you deeper into the forest. The flora of the forest was to die for this season. The beautiful greens, the flowers, the dew drops sliding off tree leaves, it was a sight that was just impossible to want to not see. But it was only something the two of you knew about. After some time, she stops by some trees. Attached to them were some targets. “I suppose thee haven’t forgotten that day we spent a few fortnights ago? Did thee say.. thee did want to see how valorous mine aim was, no?” Abby asked with a smile. You nod enthusiastically. “Oh, of course I’d want to see how well thee uses yond bow and arrow. You speak so highly of thy aim, I’m sure it’s better than any sirs in the entire kingdom.” Abby always found your enthusiasm cute. Her body felt warm and fuzzy, as stupid and cliche it sounds, but she always felt that way around you. She loved how alive you made her feel. She readies her bow and arrow, and you watch her. You observe her pulling the string back and being mindful of how much she does. She inhales and loses the arrow in the middle of her exhale. Dead center of the target! She turns to you with a smile as your face lights up equally as bright.

She was amazing! God, you’ve seen men competing for the other princesses hands in marriage (thanks to Abby), but you wanted her to do this for you when your time came. “That wast most wondrous! Oh my gosh, thee should it again. I want to see you do it again!” You say as you give her a face of pleading. She lets out a small chuckle before she turns to another target. This time, she decides to be flashy. She readies an arrow yet again, closing her eyes before she lets it loose. She opens her eyes to find that it had just nearly hit beneath the target. She shrugs her shoulders with a small smile. “Well, art thee did impress, princess?” She asks as she goes to collect her arrows. You turn to her with a small smile. “Of course I’m impressed. Thee nev'r faileth to impresseth me, Abigail.” “That’s the second timeth you’ve hath called me that. I still rememb'r the first liketh it’s yest'rday.” Abby’s cheeks were dusted in a pink blush as she remembered that day you’d asked her out. All loopy from your drinking, your drunken rambling had resulted in you asking her out. “I rememb'r that day fondly. It was the day I hath asked thee out.” You reply in a soft tone almost as if you were falling in love with her all over again. But you couldn’t help it. This woman was timeless, and she never failed to take your breath away no matter what she did. Whether it be simple housework, gardening, or using that bow and arrow. Every aspect of Abby was attractive. Once all her arrows had been collected, she walks back over to you. She grabs your hands, her thumb gently grazing your knuckles as she looks in your eyes. Your gaze meets hers. She smiles, you look away with a giggle. She turns you back to face her. “I loveth thee. For many nights, I’ve hadst these dreams. Those dreams beshrew mine own mind. All of those were about thee. Well, us. Running hence. Being joyous. Not having to encave our love.” Her voice was soft. Her tone was sincere.

Her gaze softened. One hand comes to softly hold your face. You melt. You couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth now. “I want to be with thee. I’m not restful of hiding. I want to run in the lush gardens, waketh to a sleep chamber that isn’t bitter cold, and stay out with thee for howev'r long mine own heart desires.” You smile at her and she smiles back. Slowly, her eyes become half lidded and she moves closer to you. “Run away with me, princess.” She whispered before she softly pressed her lips to yours. She pulled away for a moment to see if you were okay with it, but when you pulled her right back in, it solidified that you were more than okay with this. Her arms wrap around your waist, and yours find solace around her neck. This moment felt surreal. Being surrounded by forest, her hands on your body, the humming sound of cicadas and whatever else was in the forest, and the sounds of her soft, quiet moans filled your ears and burned in your memory. While you’re kissing her, you remember its way past the time you should’ve returned. You pull away. “Goodness, it’s getting late. We shall meet. Here, before sundown. I expect to see thee waiting for me here.” You say sweetly but in a rushed manner. She crosses her arms, then closing her eyes as she gives you a confirming nod before she bids you farewell. “I’ll see you soon, princess.” She says as she watches you walk off, then turning to head towards her own castle. This was the start of living freely, not confined by the restraints of parents.

#wlfabby #adria answers anons #tlou #the last of us #the last of us part two #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby x reader #reader insert #afab reader #tlou x reader #tlou2 #the last of us x reader

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ditzydisaster13 · 3 months

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By the Best of the Lightning Strike

”By the Best of the Lightning Strike” is a Voltron Fantasy Au I’ve been working on. It’s been more mental preparation than anything I’ve written down as of late. But I’m planning plenty of art for it.

The characters are primarily Elven knights and warriors. Galra and Altean are all species of their own. With separate kingdoms and soldiers. Other “aliens”-> which are recognized as more mythological creatures and species themselves, belong as stand alone creatures or those under the rule, either willing or not, of Galra vs Altean-Voltron. Voltron is what they call their knights. Their best fighters are:

Lancelot (Lance) Ladron. His last name might mean thief. But only of hearts and frowns. A flirtatious soldier with glassy ocean eyes and a pure and unadulterated love for the stars and the sea alike. He has great power. Of water and rain, storm and wind. With his sickness comes weariness. He is physically strong. But Mentally does not allow himself the peace and smiles other see in him. He is wounded by the war. The war that leaves him half blind. And the war of the raging and roaring water and hurricanes that crash in his head. He is wonderful with a Sword. A bow and Arrow strikes through the most powerful currents. But his intentions to the world happen to be his strongest weapons. He is wise beyond his jokes. And a Master of craft. His magic is purely dispensable to him. And wonderful to others. He is among the last humans (aside his family, half elven and half human. He is mostly human) in Altea. But he won’t let the Purple trolls of Galran territory graze his pride.

Keith Keiden (name basically means Warrior from the wood of the battlefield.) Is a Grunt. A type of Fae that remain on the shorter side, with tempers that can be difficult to control. They are family people. And do not take being abandoned well. They are brisk and good fighters. Who fight with force and trickery. They are sneaky and prideful in not only their skills but their keen. Keith is also half Galra. Which results in some slight discrimination and anger when he reveals his bloodline. However, as well as a Voltron Soldier and Knight to Altea, his loyalties are split to the Blade of marmora. Garland and half Galran species who in turn want nothing to do with their kingdom or ancestry that fight independently, in small groups, and occasionally on the side of the Alteans. They often prefer Solitude. But Love is in fact their greatest weapons. A master of sword and blade, Keith is also a Dramonk. A name derived from the ancient and rare people of the dragons, meaning fire wielder. Flume of red and pink burst and burn from his hands. Dousing into rolling smoke. His anger gets the best of him. But a certain “thief” knows all too many way to douse the flames.

Dove Holt (Pidge/Katie. -> Holt actually means forest.) Despite Her [She/They pronouns for Pidge] less that forestric life, one home in the woods, a second in the workshop her father uses to study space, they are a lovely person. Dove, typically known as Pidge, is a Grunt. A distant Altean/Elven great grandmother somewhere in her blood. Dove, or Pidge, has the ability to connect with thee earth. He love and excitement for the future of space travel and technology is evident in her slick and mobile style of dressing. Despite her ladylike voice, they are sarcastic and witty. Athletic and feisty. Their connection to nature is in the soil. The vines that grow from her arms and allow her to launch herself great distances.

#art #Story #fantasy #voltron #vld lance #lance mcclain #keith kogane #klance #langst #storms #powers #au #more

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searchingforserendipity25 · 3 months

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More precious was the light in your eyes. ao3.

Many thanks to @welcomingdisaster and @outofangband for inspiration on how to tackle the 'dusk' prompt!

The first woman of the Edain Daeron loved was a milkmaid and cow herder late in her years, all wispy age-streaked braids and fat arms

He sought out her shadow rustling in the aldar leaves, in the laughing of a hidden brook. Running, leaping, whenever he thought he caught her scent of starlight on mossy ground - like a hound sniffing for its mistress, like a madman gathering thorn-scratches and losing the course of the years.

It was not madness, though it sounded mad, and foolish, and pitiful.

There were tales told of him. Because even the oldest forest and the darkest waters were no longer unpopulated, and mortals bred fast and grew covetous, there were made old trees thorn down; it happened at times that he would leave a meadow for a time, and find it turned into a hamlet on his return, or a town.

His heart grew hard as stone, inside him. In the worst winters, when there was much cold to be fought in Mannish homes, and fallen elms and firs and birches were too many to name, Daeron thought only bitterly of Lúthien's escape. Lúthien's Choice, a choosing of cruelty, a renouncing of the true face of the world.

He withheld his songs from her, as if she heard him in truth; and gathering himself in a cold cave or hollow stump, his sleep was thin and unhappy, with no memory of spring.

Regret came with the first thaw; but then, like always, it was too late to find any solace, any satisfaction. Lúthien was in the forests, at times; but she never did turn to look back, to see if he kept to her tracks.

The first woman of the Edain Daeron loved was a milkmaid and cow herder late in her years, all wispy age-streaked braids and fat arms, pail carried steadily on her head even as she let out her loud graceless laugh.

Before her narrow cabin she set a basin, and a handful of seeds; in this way she had small wood birds near her house often, and some of their pretty singing.

It was a kindly trade; that it had brought her an elf as skittish and fond of fennel seeds as any sparrow did not daunt her in the least. In the evenings he came, sometimes, by her door; she played a flute, a small and ugly thing, not well and not badly.

Daeron had forgotten. The songs of others were lovely still, in their way; even the ones Lúthien had never heard.

Soon enough she she set him to fixing the thatch roof and mending the crane mechanism in the water pump- also gathering new rushes for the floor.

"As thou art a wood-sprite, and stands sense that rushes are sweeter for thee," which was true enough; he brought new smells into the damp shelter of her house, a little green wildness.

He did as he was told out of bemusement, and surprised himself in accepting her bowls of gruel, her warm blankets, her warm legs wrapped around him upon a straw mattress, a grass mound, the shade under the tall chestnuts where the cows grazed.

"Look at this mad thing," she said, tripping rough fingers up his ribs to test if he would quiver, running them through his hair - picking off bits of dead grass, shreds of ivy. "I knew there were birds that turned into spirits in the woods, but most birds are much neater than this!"

She laughed at his indignation, and pressed him down, and laughed further at how he did quiver, nose against her bosom, mouth opening with kisses.

Reluctantly, in fits and starts and incidents, he came to know their ways.

The first winter he spent in a human village was an error; the second there was a plague, the sixth it was razed by the neighboring kingdom - or might have been. If not for Daeron singing terrors out of the mists; if not for the growing of briars sharp as daggers, and wild barking in the wild.

Melian's teachings were in him still, half-dormant; and if he told none whom it was that kept danger away, still his lover teased him while plucking briars from his hair, and grew even more shameless about sending him off to scare away wolves and bears and annoying tax-riders with his mighty powers.

Lúthien's choice grew less repellent to him, in time. But he would not have chosen as Lúthien might have, after all.

He could only be himself, one of the Quendi; the last of them, he thought, perhaps.

He stood by the mounds where roses grew from his lover's bones. Her laughter, gone thick with age and then silent, was a biting grief, a cutting thing; and he had to be glad for it, too, for he had not thought to grieve a thing besides Lúthien, and it was good to love, after all, even a thing that died.

O, but it was bitter! A long winter of the heart, and a winter that always came back.

That much Lúthien had taught him, and his cow-herder; and the forests, too, where saplings grew in the place of old giants, and shrubs ate away even the roots of Ents.

This relinquishing come no more easily, not more easily was he at peace with it. Still he knew then it would happen again; many times, perhaps.

He swept the house, brought in new rushes, and left the cows grazing, and filled the basin, where sparrows and jays and plain nightingales came to sate their thirst. Some winters he went onward, deeper into the forests, to scare the wolves, the bold mountain lions, the king's riders.

But the house was his now, and the roses were not as stout as niphredil, and wanted tending.

It was not madness. Daeron saw her in every flower that bloomed at dusk, the sweet haze that rose over the world in the first days of spring. Lúthien was there.

He saw her, now. Not at first, when he was younger, and caught in grief and regret such that no consolation could be found.

He saw her in the small pale flowers that were not niphredil. He saw her in the lined faces of old women weaving by the hearth during the long winters, and in the maids dancing round the summer bonfires. In all things mortal, in all blue twilights; and he loved Lúthien the better for it, in time, with a love that was an aching sweetness, not the last of its kind.

#silm fic #lúthien #daeron #oc #daeron x oc #my fics #february ficlet challenge

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allwaswell16 · 10 months

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A fic rec of One Direction fics taking place in medieval times as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers. You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Louis/Harry—

🏰 Fantasy/Merlin AU (series) by MyEnglishRose / @lwtisloved

(E, 249k, fantasy) A Fantasy AU loosely inspired by Merlin BBC, with Louis as a servant, hiding his nature as a sorcerer, Harry as Camelot's prince, Liam as his guard, Niall as Louis' knight and Zayn as the fairy prince.

🏰 After Dark, After Light by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(M, 71k, Scottish au) In an attempt to garner extra protection for his clan, Harry sets out to mend his father's past wrongs and ally with their neighbors to the west, Clan Sutherland.

🏰 I'll Be Here Waiting on Forever by sweaterpawstyles

(E, 46k, a/b/o) A Romeo and Juliet AU where Louis is an alpha prince who falls in love with Harry, an omega prince from the neighboring kingdom

🏰 Now You're Lost, Lost In The Heat Of It All by @marchessa

(E, 44k, a/b/o) the story of a great medieval Emperor and his consort.

🏰 It's Not You, and It's Not Me by @realitybetterthanfiction

(E, 18k, Game of Thrones) Harry Snow, bastard son of Lord Ned Stark, meets an intriguing stranger on a midnight ride near Winterfell. Can their connection last in a world ruled by lions, and dragons, and wolves?

🏰 Where Iron Meets Flame by @fallinglikethis

(T, 14k, magic) Louis is a knight in training that emphatically doesn't believe in magic, Harry is a mage with confidence issues.

🏰 Knight Changes by graceling_in_a_suit / @graceling-in-a-suit

(M, 10k, bog man) Louis has a promise to keep and a curse to break for a man in a bog. Niall, Liam, and Zayn are along for the ride. The real friends are the dragons we slay along the way.

🏰 The Rose and the Stag by lonelymisfit / @l0nelymisfit

(E, 10k, Game of Thrones) A medieval AU where Louis is heir to the throne and Harry is a knight who fights for more than just his lord’s victory.

🏰 The Bandits of Sherwood Forest by foreverfanficaddict / @chaotic-bells

(T, 8k, Robin Hood au) Louis Tomlinson and his band of merry men were the people’s only hope. They robbed from the rich to feed the poor, and were beloved by all of England during these terrible times.

🏰 These High Walls, they came up short by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 7k, hybrid au) Simon, he assumes, is thinking back to the days he likes to tell Harry about; the days when the abbey was teeming with life and community. They needed to be a united force then, surely. But now— now it’s just the two of them.

🏰 My Sun and Stars, Moon of my Life by @ohharold

(M, 7k, Game of Thrones) Harry was used to the luxuries of Kings Landing and then Pentos but when his brother is desperate for the crown he is entitled to, Harry must be part of an arranged marriage to a ruthless Khal of a Dothraki tribe.

🏰 Had Enough of Silly Love Spells by learnthemusic

(T, 7k, Merlin au) A Merlin AU in which Harry, Court Sorcerer, slips a love potion into King Louis' sleeping draught in hopes of awakening his true feelings for Harry. It goes wrong and Harry puzzles over how to get things back to how they used to be.

🏰 Settle Soft and Follow Thee by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 2k, pagan gods) He’s never met a deity himself, not even a member of the fae, but if he did, he thinks the inbetween time would be when it happens.

—Rare Pairs—

🏰 Spark by unfortunate17

(E, 42k, Zayn/Liam) a Game of Thrones AU that lacks all the death and sorrow, where Zayn is Daenerys Targaryen and Liam is Khal Drogo

🏰 my crown is in my heart by carissima

(M, 30k, Liam/Harry) After several attempts on the royal family’s lives, a knight’s tournament is held to find Prince Harry’s future husband to rule beside him when he becomes king.

#ficrec #trackinghappily #1dficvillage #trackinghome #hltracks #1dsource #tracksintheam

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zellink · 5 months

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nearer, my god, to thee

a post-botw zelink fic. [ one-shot // 11k words // E-rated for sexual content ]

>> Read on AO3

Summary: Link finally understands that it isn’t him who has absorbed this kingdom into his bloodstream—it is the kingdom, it is her, and she is surrounding him, swallowing him whole. A tent in a forest, a summer night full of stars, and two people who have always been part of the wild.

Notes: Written as part of Zelink Hype Squad server's Hestu Gift Exchange 2023-24 for @spices28 ⭐️ Special thanks to @1up-girl and @mustardcheesedog for being such amazing betas. ✨

nearer, my god, to thee

Hyrule has always been a beautiful land.

Rolling hills that bleed into meadows. Verdant canopies of trees that shield and cover whatever creature that wanders beneath. Rivers that run wild into everywhere and nowhere, into seas that lead to places unknown. Mountains that seem to scratch the sky. Canyons that go so deep, one might think the core of the earth is visible from a bird’s eye view.

And Link, upon waking up from his long slumber, has laid his eyes on every inch of the land. Has seen it all through summer’s rage and winter’s wrath, underneath stone archways in front of mansions long gone, from behind overgrown vines that wrap around fallen citadels. He’s lost and found himself, time and time again, in the Lost Woods and the Hebra Mountains and the far-flung corners of Gerudo Desert. Has absorbed this land into his bloodstream until he becomes one with it, until he’s just another permanent fixture of the landscape—another mountain in Lanayru, perhaps. Or another river that flows through Faron.

But when all is finally said and done, and he has bled and bled in the bowels of the castle and in the field, and a golden light shines in the sky and descends gently onto the grass, he realizes, finds—

That there is just one more part of Hyrule that he hasn’t absorbed into himself at all.

And that part is living and breathing and sitting in the saddle atop her white stallion, riding alongside his brown mare. Her cheeks are flushed from the late summer’s heat. Her long blonde locks are blown back by the evening breeze, the top a little bit mussed up and the braids across her crown slightly loosened from the day’s hot journey eastward.

The urge to extend his arm outward and run his fingers through those tresses claws inside him.

He clenches at the reins a bit tighter instead.

They continue to ride.

To their right, Wetland Stable is all lit up for the night. Link has been there before, too. A few months ago, he slept in a cot underneath that very roof after he had chased down a particular landscape portrayed in an image on the Slate, hunting it all the way into the forest just across the river.

In the end, he had come out of it with a singed brow and an arm covered in burns—classic memento from the Guardians—and the haunting fragment of a memory from one hundred years ago, where the woman he ached to bring home had despaired and cried in his embrace, among the rainfall and the mud.

The woman’s voice is what slices through his thoughts.

“Gods, I’ve forgotten how muscles can ache from too much use,” Zelda says. “I think we should stop for the night and get some rest. What do you think?”

Link smiles at her. There is no mud nor rainfall on her face anymore—only a few beads of sweat that his fingers long to wipe away. “Yeah, I agree.”

“Shall we head to the stable, then?” she asks.

He turns his head to look at the stable again. It’s not especially crowded—Wetland Stable never is, unlike Riverside or Dueling Peaks—but he sees a few visitors sitting around the communal cook pot, sees some other patrons conversing with the stablemaster, and thinks that they’ve had their fair share of strangers’ eyes upon them for the past month in Hateno.

They’ll have more of that in their destination, too: Zora’s Domain is filled with people who know exactly who they are, beyond their unassuming appearance. People who know of the titles from their former lives, know of the hefty past that they carry upon their shoulders.

He wants to take her somewhere else. A place unknown to anyone else except for him. No prying eyes, no whispering mouths. Only boughs of trees overhead, the soft sloshing of water from leaping frogs, and the chirps of restless crickets.

Wants to share that piece of wilderness with her. Consume it together.

“There’s this spot in the cove of Crenel Peak,” Link says. “There’s a pond and a lot of trees and sometimes there are fireflies, too. We can pitch a tent and rest there.” He pauses. “If— if you want.”

Zelda’s lips curve into a smile—wide, dimpling her cheeks, and his heart twists and twists. “That sounds lovely, Link,” she replies. “Let’s go there, then.”

They change course, pulling at the reins to keep left on the dirt path, then turning at the intersection and heading a little further north. Past the quiet fields and open meadows and the unobstructed view to the castle—all black and gray and no wisps of crimson at all against the twilight sky—until they reach the base of Crenel Peak, where the hills part to reveal an opening to a tree-filled recess in the side of the mountain.

Link dismounts first, hitching his mare onto a trunk on the outskirts of the small forest before offering Zelda his hand—gloved palm facing up. He knows she’s more than capable of sliding off her stallion herself, but, well—he’d never pass up the opportunity to have her touch grace his skin. She takes it, and he feels her lean her weight onto his hand as she dismounts. Feels the warmth even through her glove, feels his blood rushing towards where their bare fingers meet.

When she lets him go to hitch her own steed, Link lets out a slow exhale through his mouth.

Blames his sudden breathlessness on the summer heat.

He unfastens their shared traveling pack and tent from their horses’ backs while Zelda takes the bedrolls. Lets muscle memory from a hundred years prior overtake his body because this—working together with her like clockwork, preparing themselves for a night in whatever pocket tucked away within the kingdom—is something even a long slumber can’t ever erase from him.

They walk further into the cove until they find a small clearing where the pond awaits, right at the base of the hill. He takes out the sheets of canvas and the poles, and begins pitching the tent. Assembles the poles, connects one end to another, then inserts each pole into its corresponding grommet. As he stakes the corners of the erected tent into the ground, he sees her build a fire in his periphery, steel against flint atop a bundle of wood. Orange sparks fly, and then their camp for the night is finally illuminated, ready for their rumbling stomachs and aching bodies.

And anything else that might unravel as the night progresses, a voice within him says, though he chides it, pushes it away.

Link unlaces the traveling pack and searches for some wooden plates and spoons. Fights off a smile from breaking across his face when his fingers brush over their tangled belongings—the clasp of his additional pair of pants catching the strap of her silk camisoles; her hairbrush that somehow got stuck to his robe.

Eventually, he finds those wooden plates and spoons.

He sets the utensils atop a nearby tree stump, places a cook pot on the fire, and says, “I think there’s plenty of mushrooms around. Do you want stew or skewers?”

Zelda purses her lips, mulling over his question, and something warm shoots through his nerves as if it’s the very first time he’s uttered such a question to her in this century. He supposes he should start getting used to this—asking mundane questions about nothing, about everything. Where to stay for the night, what to have for dinner.

“Skewers would be better, I think,” she replies as she settles on a fallen log in front of the fire. Gives her sweaty forehead a cursory wipe with the back of her hand. “It’s too hot for a stew, don’t you think?”

Oh, he really could get used to this.

“Yeah, skewers sound good.” He smiles at her.

So Link spends the next ten minutes foraging for Hylian mushrooms around the area, putting each that he has picked into a cloth bag Zelda had fashioned out of his worn shirt back in Hateno. In the end, he’s gathered enough mushrooms (and some Hyrule herbs, too) to feed six: one portion for her, three for him, and two for leftovers that can serve as a light lunch tomorrow for the rest of the journey to Zora’s Domain.

He returns to the cook pot, procures the jars of oil and crushed rock salt from their pack, and begins cooking their dinner. Pouring a little bit of oil, then hovers his hand above the pot, gauging the heat before pouring all the picked mushrooms into it. He stirs and stirs with a wooden spoon, trying his damndest not to look her way too much lest he makes a mistake and burns himself on the hot iron.

(But then any burn or cut is worth it when it’s for her.)

Once the mushrooms are cooked through, Link realizes that he doesn’t have the wood sticks, so he serves the food in the bowl and hands it to Zelda.

“This is just… a bowl of cooked mushrooms,” he says, bashful. “Don’t actually have the sticks to skewer them. Sorry.”

A laugh bursts from Zelda. “That’s no problem, Link,” she says, grinning. “I don’t think we would be eating the wood sticks anyway,” she adds, before reaching for the bowl from his hands. Covering his fingers with hers, pressing slightly before taking it away.

His breath becomes ragged in an instant, though he knows how to quickly regain his composure, because it has happened many, many times before. In Hateno, in their shared home and on the streets and every place in between. A lingering touch here and there, fire through his veins. The air turning heavy each time, but holding themselves back as they ride out the initial shock of being alive together in this century, as they parse through their grief and loss and shared wounds.

But now they are outside and there’s a certain lightness that percolates through him that he knows hasn’t been there in ages, and they are alone together—so alone—and he knows it will snap.

It’s just a matter of when.

So he shoots another smile at her and goes to serve a bowl for himself. Settles on the log next to her—the side of his thigh touching hers all the way to their knees. Feeling his skin sizzle even through the fabric of his breeches. Eats and eats with barely any words exchanged because their shared silence is as natural as breathing. When they break it, it’s for her to comment on his talent of making even just mushrooms seasoned with salt and herb taste good, and he replies with thanks and heat rising on his cheeks.

It doesn’t take long for them to finish their meals. It has been quite a long day, after all.

He takes the bowl from her and washes their dishes by the pond as she takes their pack inside the tent, fastens the flaps together, and changes into her sleepwear. With a rag he scrubs and scrubs the grime off the cook pot, averting his thoughts to anything else other than the sound of fabric rustling from beyond that layer of canvas, which proves futile anyway.

It’s painfully familiar, because he knows he’s been here before, regardless of the scantness of his memories. He’s felt this so often, if not always. A century ago, in other places, bearing skin with fewer scars but one that still aches to touch her all the same.

With everything cleaned, he sets them on the same nearby tree stump to dry. Takes a deep, deep breath, then takes his bedroll and pulls at the laces to unfurl it atop the grass, in front of the tent.

Link stares at it for a while, just as he has done for the past three weeks—the same bedroll set on the floor beside the bed in their home. Imagines two bodies atop it instead of just one, pictures two sets of limbs searching for one another and tangling and joining. Swallowing those images down his throat, where they sear until they settle inside his stomach, dormant and docile, before they come up into his mouth again the next night. Over and over and over, because he knows that they have all the time in the world now and all that’s left to do is wait.

And he intends to swallow them all down and wait again tonight, though something in his gut tells him that maybe, just maybe, the trees and the open sky overhead might catalyze a bolt from the blue.

There’s more rustling from inside the tent, so Link decides to distract himself by undoing his baldric and belts, taking off his gloves, carefully setting the Sword against a tree, and then sitting down and unfastening the leather vambrace from his right forearm. Then it’s the patterned strip of cloth that he peels off from his arms, unwrapping, unraveling, until he’s only in his Champion tunic with the cotton shirt underneath, his pants, and his boots.

As he sets his protective leathers aside, Zelda comes out from the tent with her cream-colored nightgown finally wrapped around her figure—loose and sleeveless, with the thin straps hanging on her shoulders and the hem falling down to her mid-calves.

The sight knocks all the air out of his lungs.

Then his eyes settle on her face and he notices the furrow between her brows.

“Why are you setting the bedroll outside?” Zelda asks.

Link gulps. “I’m here to keep guard.”

Funnily enough, even he can hear the slight question mark that follows that sentence.

Zelda actually appears surprised by his reply. “From what? Hot-footed frogs?”

“There were bears here before,” he feigns obliviousness. “When I found this place the first time around.”

“Which I’m sure you’ve dealt with since I don’t see or hear them anywhere,” she says. There’s something fond in those emeralds of hers, like she understands exactly the predicament he’s found himself in because she’s in the thick of it, too—in the knowing and not-knowing, wanting to end it in the most perfect way possible—softly, gently.

“I’d like to keep watch with you, too, then.” A shy smile forms on her lips. “If you need the additional set of eyes, that is.”

Link knows she isn’t talking about bears anymore, knows that she knows he doesn’t need the additional set of eyes, because protecting her comes as natural as the blinking of his eyes, as inherent as his fingers around the indigo hilt of the Sword.

He doesn’t need the extra guard; he just needs her.

“Of course,” Link replies.

>> Continue reading on AO3

#now off i go to lose my mind working on my longfic #my fic #zelink #botw zelink #zelink fic #zelink fanfiction #botw fic #botw

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bambithevideogame · 8 months

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#BambiTheVideoGame #VoiceActors #cast #Actors #TheMostDangerousGame #TheeForestKingdom @squareEnix @DisneyGames @disneyvoguemagazine

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thechristopherrobinstrain · 1 year

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youtube

#thee forest kingdom #playstation7 #Taylor swift #kingdom hearts the movie #Youtube

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spontaneousglitterbees · 7 months

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youtube

Covered Whereabouts of the Miracle! Lyrics under the cut and in the description

Hey-ey, darling, can you hear me call? Can you hear at all? Hey-ey, darling, can you hear me now? If you hear me loud, then you should take me down to the temple wide with the ark inside. Toss my body in. If you do I'll be returned to you again.

Have you noticed how everyone in the country is rotten now? Eyes lost to desire, see, now someone ought to light the pyre. Yes let's start off fresh, 'cuz the kingdom falls if it won't reset! So let's strike the match, just you and I, your better half.

When you're on your own there's so much you can not do but all that you need is to find some one willing to help you. Don't you see the whereabouts of the miracle now rest within you?

Keep on running dear, that fabled place is drawing near. Do not hesitate if you really want to subvert my fate, now, please, honey, hurry up. If you get there quick they won't notice it. Trust me you're so close! If you want me back you must fully commit.

Mercy on this poor man, he knows not what he'll do. Opening thee gates reveals the ark by the name of Sin. What is it you wish for, and how much are you willing to lose? Please, dearest, do not let them deceive you….

Hey-ey darling, the hell's taking you so long? Just shove my body in the ark. I didn't think that it would be hard. Just put the body into the chassis. I'm amazed your far too stupid to see, listen to my command. PUT HER INTO THE MACHINE.

So now the die is cast in the wreckage because of an awful miracle that never should have been! The brutal handiwork of the one manipulated by Sin.

Every flower gone, the landscape clear at dawn, all of the human settlements are gone as well as him Everything has been destroyed the only left alive seems to be to be me

lu li la lu li la When I awoke, all I could see in front of me. Oh, my heart it broke. The world I knew has been reduced to nothing but the ashes of what once was mine and in return I've received infinite time.

Now nothing is left. But I must move on. And it seems as though he and her are already gone.

Two little lights dull in the night softly shone and fell over a distant weald And landed in the forest of Held

#ec #evillious chronicles #synthv #synthesizer v #synth v #vocaloid #Youtube

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i-did-not-mean-to · 9 months

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For Queen and Country

Well, here goes another one for AU-gust. This time for @jaz-the-bard!

Suprise, surprise...It's the Gondolin OT3 <3

AU Prompt: Fairytale AU

Dialogue Prompt: I don't know how to repay you...

Words: 931

Characters: Maeglin x Tuor x Idril

Warnings: A dangerous promise, a swoon, a quasi-abduction?

English is a foreign language to me, very relevant in this instance, please excuse me if this is all wrong. I've tried!

“Hail, son of Gondolin,” Tuor cried aloud when he finally caught sight of his quarry. “I am come to deliver thee.”

The wretched creature leaning against a dead tree lifted a weary gaze to the young knight striding towards him confidently.

“Who are you?” Suspicion and unexpected belligerence glinted in the dark eyes whose frankness startled and discomfited Tuor.

“Thy kinswoman, the Lady Idril, Princess of Gondolin the Fair, sends me,” Tuor replied frankly, holding aloft the token of favour that noble dame had consigned to his care.

Scoffing, the staggering stranger—lithe and enchantingly delicate in appearance—gave a dismissive wave of his fine-boned hand and collapsed in a sudden swoon.

Upon arriving in a hidden kingdom—led by strange and otherworldly forces—Tuor had promptly been introduced to the most magical of beings to have graced his life yet—Princess Idril. Fair as a clear summer sky and wise as the rivers and oceans that had led him thence, the young woman had ultimately entrusted him with a secret quest that was evidently dear to her very own heart.

Indeed, her beloved kinsman had failed to return to the palace’s safety and her respectful care, and she was much aggrieved.

“He may have been injured,” she had said with a mournful mien but dry eyes. “To put my mind at ease, I’d beg thee to seek my cousin in the wild lands yonder and restore him to his rightful place at my side.”

Eager to be of service to one so lovely, Tuor had promptly taken the necessary steps to ready himself thoroughly for his imminent departure—for he knew not what perils or enemies he might encounter—when the young princess slipped into the chamber he had been graciously allotted by the goodwill of the king, her father.

Even though she had treated him like a cherished and trusted friend from the very beginning, Tuor had been startled and discomfited by this renewed display of intimacy—he had only just made her acquaintance, and he had not been able to fathom why she’d incur the danger of ruining her reputation and drawing her father’s wrath by coming to a man’s chamber unchaperoned.

“Forgive my intrusion,” she had whispered in an enchantingly low, thrumming voice. “If thou wouldst dare this feat and succeed, my hand shall be thine.”

Bowing low over those pale, slender digits, Tuor had made a polite remark about how honourable and admirable one must account the love she bore her erring cousin and accounted himself a fool for not finding a better turn of phrase to express his befuddled, confused thoughts.

Now, as he regarded the self-same kinsman with unadulterated appreciation and amazement, he no longer considered Princess Idril the most selfless and charitable of ladies for evidently no soul—independently of its quality—could have suffered the loss of a being so precious and charming.

“Where do you take me?” Maeglin cried as soon as his heavy lids fluttered open once more to behold the foreboding forest surrounding his uncle’s secret city. “Unhand me anon, fiend!”

Dutifully explaining his mission and his solemn promise of service and duty to the princess in more detail, Tuor believed that he’d finally get the gratitude that was due to him. Surely, he thought, this fey prince would thank him for braving the bleak wilderness and the roaming enemies to carry him home.

“Do not trust the Princess,” Maeglin hissed instead, his beautiful eyes alight with ire. “What corrupting phantasm did she pledge to you?”

Abashed, Tuor confessed, his words halting on account of his tongue being heavy with apprehension now. Just as he had suspected that he had indeed been bespelled by the beautiful lady, he presently felt enchanted by her enraged cousin.

As he looked upon that bewitching face thoughtfully, a sudden change came over the frail-looking young man in his arms—those dark, unfathomable eyes grew soft and appealing, and his hitherto raucous voice turned into warm honey, dripping like poison into Tuor’s ringing ears.

“I shall plight thee my troth,” Maeglin purred seductively, his expressive eyes turning into wells of earnest pleading and corrupting closeness. “Swear thou only that thou wouldst not bid me return to Gondolin to be condemned as a villain and a traitor.”

Slowing his steps, Tuor gave this new opportunity some thought—in truth, a fantastical, mad inspiration had overcome him, and he had started to dream that he might wed both of them for he could not bear to lose either one’s favour.

“My name is Tuor, son of Huor,” he said slowly, “and I live to serve.”

A sly expression flashed across Maeglin’s handsome face that shone with a mysterious light in the becharming chiaroscuro of the dense canopy.

“If thou wouldst not desist, at least delay!” Maeglin pleaded softly, placing a strong but svelte hand on Tuor’s broad chest. “I am Maeglin, and I would call thee my friend.”

The change of tone and the bewildering intimacy between them halted Tuor completely.

“So be it,” he finally declared in a voice that had grown raspy with emotion. “Come the morn, we shall make for Gondolin, and I shall speak on thy behalf to thy uncle, the king, and thy esteemed cousin.”

“I don’t know how to repay thee,” Maeglin purred in deceiving accents of obedience and surrender.

“Be true to thy word,” Tuor replied sternly, thus betraying that he was more aware of the guiles and deceptions of the fair and the powerful than Maeglin might have thought. “And I shall be true to mine.”

@fellowshipofthefics: Here's the first for this month!!!

Thank you, @jaz-the-bard for giving me th opportunity to write them again!

#og post #FOTFICS AU-gust #fotfics august challenge #Gondolin OT3 #Maeglin x Tuor x Idril #Fairytale AU #I don't know how to repay you #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt

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