#and you will be written about in legend

[lateassignment]

you know. its like. im sorry for the things ive done and said and thought in this life. i dont understand how it is not obvious that im sorry. I dont understand who i am supposed to apologize to. The tell tale heart seems to be beating, yet i have told the tale and it still beats.

I don't understand why people seem to think that what i go through is nothing. I understand that it is not everything. but its not nothing. and i do my best, i have always done my best not to think of what other people have gone through as nothing. and i have done my best to reflect and i have done my best to learn and stay positive and i am sorry.

I don't understand what is going on and i am trying to find a solution that fits but nothing ever does. there are broken pieces everywhere and i am tired of walking around them. i am trying to clean them up

Im trying and im sorry? but sometimes i dont even know what im sorry for. sometimes i do. but sometimes its like the world expects an apology for an action that exists out side of my own meta. like i must apologize for shooting some sixth dimensional being in the heart when i woke up.

im sorry for it all. it feels like what the world wants if for me to kill my self. or someone else. it feels like all anyone ever wants is blood. I mever wanted to be like that.

I spent my whole like hoping that what i knew about the world was false. that the evil acts people committed were from pain and pain alone. I wanted it to be true so badly. And its so silly. I know. I just wanted the people that said they loved me to be telling the truth.

I wanted love to be something that is given with clarity and choice. I wanted there to be a reason behind all this. Some great experiment, or maybe no reason at all. just silly animals just stumbling around hoping to find shelter and comfort.

It is childish to think that. But I never believed in purity, i never believed in a villain. I believed i corrupt systems, i believed in hurt people, i believed that redemption was the natural path.

and it's silly. i know, and i knew that there are people who crave power. i guess i blamed it all on ignorance, on people closing theyre senses to pain because they did not want to be the cause of it. because growing hurts.

and i still believe in all of those things. I think. Im not even sure what has changed. I believe, and always have in small evils. I have believed and always have believed in the strange complexity. I have tried again and again to let go of good vs evil. of one vs the other. its just us and often times we disagree

but you can not win a war that you refuse to fight, and you can not survive it either.

and i have never believed in monsters. i am always digging some grave for the next person i must bury. because i cant stand the idea that they wont be able to rise from the dead.

and it gets better as you get older. they always say that. but it has just been getting worse.

I am crazy and I am crying and I am wishing that the foundations of the world were not cracked.

Sometimes I wish i knew how to go in and fix it all. Sometimes i think that to fix it the whole thing must be torn down. Sometimes I thing the foundation is rotting anyways, and it will fall in its own with me inside. and sometimes i think that the only reason anyone cares is the crack has let in the smell of decay

#and so the blood hits the ground now dont you feel better? #they will write about you in history books. they will say the blood of the evil was spilled and washed away #they will say you were good because you waited because you took your time they will say you had mercy like no other #and then they will spill the next evil blood and they will think of you and wash it away #then you will be written about in history books #and you will be written about in legend #and the blood will still disolved into the water they all drink #but isnt it funny? that to kill one is objectly less pain then to kill more? itsnt it funny that something so unquantifiable can be compared #and it can be. it is not an opinion though we try to make it so #and isnt that funny? doesnt that make you laugh? that evil exists? yet also doesnt? #anyways sorry for being weird and formal. im avoiding homework

[author-morgan]

Title: Daylight Rating: M Pairing: Arthur x fem!Reader Summary: Arthur always knew you and he would make a fine match. ...hiding all of our sins from the daylight... I've now collected all(?) your husbands for my infinity gauntlets. a late merry christmas and an early valentines for you boo. @mrsragnarlodbrok.

“SORRY,” ARTHUR MUTTERS, “hands are rough.” He noticed how you pulled away from his calloused touch as he pressed the stained damp cloth against the bloody wound on the back of your shoulder—remnants of an arrow after Bedivere and the Mage helped him dig out the bodkin point. It’d likely been meant for him in the heat of the battle and he cursed himself seeing you fall nigh feet from him, pulled away to shelter by his kingsguard. Even with the power of Excalibur, he’d been unable to protect you—an age-old promise broken.

You lift your gaze from the charred stone floor, looking at your reflections in a fogged-over mirror on the opposite side of the room. Focus has his brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. “You always say that,” you tell him, words slurred from the pain, exhaustion, and strongwine, and voice rougher than normal. This isn’t the first time Arthur Pendragon has tended your hurts and woes, and at this rate you doubt it’ll be the last.

Dried blood and sweat washed away, Arthur picks up the piece of tree bark with a salve prepared by the Mage to stave off the pain for a while and keep the wound from festering. Then, Arthur binds the wound with fresh linen and wipes his hands, kneeling in front of you—hands resting on your hips. You lay your hand on his cheek, thumb sweeping across his cheek, marred with dirt and soot. Leaning toward him, he meets you halfway, and you set your lips on his—a soft, fleeting kiss like the touch of butterfly wings.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you tell him, fingertips mindlessly combing through the scruff on his jaw. He straightens to full height but does so with a grimace. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” You ask again.

“Just bruises,” he assures you, and this time, it seems like he’s being truthful, besides the few scratches on his hands and the slim, already scabbed-over, cut on his forehead. 

Arthur sits next to you on the edge of the bed, looking toward the open balcony. You both can hear the joyous shouts and chants. Bedivere and the others will only be able to satiate the men for so long. They will want to hear from the one who led them to victory. From the Born King. “They’ll be waiting for you to give a speech,” you tell him. 

“They’re waiting to go headfirst into the barrels of grog,” he amends, but if the out-of-tune songs are anything to go off of...  

“Sounds like they already have,” you laugh. Tonight, there will be revelries for the victory against Vortigern and his forces. In the following days, there’ll be feasts to honor the fallen and growing lists of preparations for a coronation. But right now, Arthur Pendragon doesn’t want to be a king just yet. Right now, he’s content just to be Arthur the street rat, especially when you lean your head against his shoulder and link your fingers through his—and then he’s certain there’s no one else in all of England for him except you.

“HIDING FROM ME? Or everyone else?” Your head quickly swivels to the side, only to relax at the sight of Arthur approaching. You cannot help but wonder how he isn’t cold. He's not dressed anywhere near as layered or warm as he should be for the winter evening, but somehow, he manages to look cozy even in just a scarlet linen-and-wool doublet. Stepping back, your eyes flit up to the scarlet-tinged leaves, still clinging to the branches of the white-bark birch, before looking beyond to the fresh falling snow. 

He stops at your side and looks up, too. “Was just thinking about what a bad influence you’ve been on my person,” you tell him, a small half-smirk creeping onto your features. Arthur tilts his head back in amused question, then stares up at the leaves and the silver sliver of the moon peeking through the winter clouds. “As I recall, I was an innocent girl before you came along and ruined all that.”

His blue eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest. “You’ll have to refresh my memory on how I did that, darlin’.” He moves a little closer, and you sense his ploy, twisting and ducking when he moves to grab you. 

You face him with brows raised, smiling. “Such a brute,” you taunt, “grabbing at innocent girls in the castle courtyards at night. Is that any way for the King of England to behave?” 

Arthur only rolls his eyes, trying to smother another smirk, and this time, he catches your arm as you move around him. It takes little strength to move you how he wants—pressing you into the trunk of the great tree at the heart of the courtyard. His hands press against the smooth bark beside your head as he leans in enough to look down at you. The glint in his eyes is mirthful, but there’s something else shining in his gaze too—you’ve seen that look a dozen times now, and you’re almost afeared to think about what it can mean. “Maybe you have a point,” he drawls, wearing that crooked, boyish grin that makes your heart flutter.

Your laugh almost catches him off guard. His hand slips down to run gently along your waist, the other toys with the hair at the side of your head. You lean back into the tree more, relaxing as your hands find his waist to rest on. “My father sends his kind, innocent daughter to study in Londinium, and what does this strong, noble boy do?” Arthur raises his brow. “He shoves her against a wall in an alleyway because he has no reasonable way of expressing his feelings with words.” He was just a street rat orphan and you were the daughter of some fancy lord from far away—opposites in nigh every way but more alike than you ever could have imagined. “I was never the same after that.”

His head dips down into the crook of your neck, nose training across your throat and inhaling the scent of roses and lavender. “No,” he smiles, voice low—more of a muttering husk—lips twitching as he pulls back, glancing to your lips and up, “but you’re more fun now.” Your expression falls flat, and Arthur laughs. It’s nigh impossible not to grin or melt at the sound and how little it seems you’ve heard it of late—and by Merlin’s beard, he’s impossibly handsome with laugh lines crinkling the edges of his eyes and a lopsided smile. Leaning further into him, his breath dances across your cheek, the back of his fingers brushing along your neck. 

You exhale shakily, and Arthur teases you again with light presses of his lips along your jaw and neck—hands smoothing up and down your waist as he does. For a moment, your hands find their way to his chest before you remember how open the courtyard is and that anyone can happen upon the two of you like this. Glancing around, you breathe his name in a flustered whisper, hand pressing against his chest—the last thing a new king needs is rumors to turn into scandal. 

Arthur takes a step back, giving you both room, but then there’s a new glint in his eyes. The playful mirth disappears from his cornflower eyes, replaced by something more serious—kingly, even. It’s something he’s been thinking about for years. Maybe even since the two of you first met by happenstance in the streets of Londinium and struck up an odd friendship. But over the years, Arthur thinks he cannot just call you a friend, not anymore. What he feels runs deeper than that, and given his newfound title and responsibilities...“I’ve been thinking,” he starts.

“And does it pay well?” You quip in a poor attempt to lighten the now solemn mood.

He rolls his eyes, exasperated, unable to hide how his lips quirk upwards. “Would you let me finish?” And so you do, unsure what he must say or ask that warrants such a dramatic change in his usual demeanor. Arthur reaches for your hand, the rough pads of his fingers curling around and into your palm. He stoops forward, lips brushing against your knuckles—reverent. “I’d like you to stay,” he breathes, straightening back to full height. Your brows furrow. “Here,” he adds, “with me.”

You know what he is asking of you—marriage—and it should be an easy answer. Yes, of course. You’ve loved Arthur since before you knew what the word truly meant. But given the events of the last few months and the precipitousness of his proposal, you’re left speechless, heart beating in your throat until all you can do is run to the haven of your chambers with tears pricking your eyes.

A LOUD KNOCK on the great wooden door echoes in your bedchambers. You rouse from sleep, righting the oversized tunic hanging off one shoulder in an attempt to appear decent at the late hour. Part of you already knows who will be waiting on the other side, but when you crack open the door, it still surprises you to find him standing before you—wearing only a loose, nigh threadbare tunic and pair of dark britches. “Arthur,” you greet, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before motioning for him to come in.

There’s still an uneasy air between you after the earlier events and conversation in the courtyard—his proposal. “I shouldn’t’ve….” he starts as you do. “I should not...” You both fall silent, eyes searching the other’s face for an indication of who will be the first to speak, the first to act, but there’s only silence. 

“Yes,” you quickly tell him—the shock of his initial proposal has faded, and now you’ve never been more certain about something in your life. You still can’t say what it is that caused you to react in such a way—Arthur’s the only man you’ve ever loved, the only person you could have ever thought of having a life with, even before all this Born King shite. The answer is ‘yes.’ It had always been. 

“Yes?” He repeats with furrowed brows, not sure he’s heard you correctly.  “I’ll stay” —you reach to comb your fingers through his close-shorn beard, and he leans into the touch— “with you.” Forever.

He smiles, and it’s as though a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Arthur cradles your face in his hands, thumbs running over your cheekbones. You smile for him, and he leans toward you, closing the distance. His lips are on yours in an instant.

You answer his kiss, slowly at first, then with more fervor when you settle your hands on either side of his neck, drawing yourself closer. Parting, you press your forehead against his and meet his heated stare. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?” Arthur asks, breathless.

Then he’s kissing you again and again—hands straying to your waist and backside, pulling you closer, tighter. And it fans the embers burning low in your belly to flames. Arthur breaks the kiss with an anguished groan—fighting a losing war with himself. He brushes back the hair falling in front of your face, the rough pad of his thumb running over your lips. “Tell me to stop,” he mutters—it’s almost a plea. And then he’s adrift in your soft and dark gaze, knowing if you do nothing to stop this, he’ll be acting on countless years of love and pent-up desire.

“No,” you breathe, catching his wrist and sliding his hand up from your neck—peppering his fingertips with gentle kisses. He watches you, lips parted and heart aching. Closing your eyes, you draw in a slow breath, and with a final kiss to his palm, you guide his hand to rest on one of your clothed breasts.

“Arthur.” You speak his name as though it is a quiet prayer. “I want you.” He pulls on the string at the neck of your nightshirt, loosening it until the gauzy material falls off your shoulders—puddling around your ankles, 

Though bare, you still hold his clear blue gaze. He goes silent as he draws in a sharp breath—eyes dart over the length of your body. His eyes darken, though, a mix of lust and adoration. “Think this is the longest you’ve been qui–” He cuts you off with a kiss, and one of his hands rises to cradle your cheek—the side of your neck again—and his lips coax yours open.

You sigh into his mouth, hands instinctively dipping under the hem of his roughspun tunic, fingertips trailing over the taut muscles of his abdomen and the scar on his ribs. Arthur breaks the kiss, quickly shrugging off his shirt, and lets the undyed piece of wool fall to the floor.  

Then, suddenly, he lifts you off your feet effortlessly. You hastily grip his shoulders for balance until he lays you on the bed—standing back to take off his trousers, and you watch him with a weird mixture of hunger and wistfulness as he strips. Arthur kicks aside his discarded clothes, then crawls onto the bed, making room for himself between your thighs—his clear and cold gaze burning with the warmth of the Sun and never once straying from yours.

You gaze tensely at his face as he studies you. His expression is greedy and appreciative, and the firelight glowing in his eyes just makes him look all the more ardent, and the longer he stares at you without doing anything, the more restless you are for him to act. You want his touch, his cock, his lips on yours, and all he’s giving you is this appreciative greedy stare, and it’s not enough.

Arthur kisses you again, and then he leans away from your lips and kisses the angle of your jaw. His mouth travels to the side of your neck, and your pulse flutters in your throat. His lips are surprisingly soft, and as his mouth trails from your neck to your collarbone, the delicacy of his kisses makes you feel lightheaded —a mix of pleasure and disbelief. 

He nuzzles your collarbone, then places a kiss just above the swell of your breast, and you arch helplessly toward his mouth. The heat of his breath wafting over your breast, making your nipples go taut with anticipation, and when the scruff of Arthur’s beard brushes over your nipple, you jolt and make a helpless little mewling sound. You twine your fingers into his golden hair, trying to hold him in place against you. But Arthur shoots you a quick smile, then shuffles lower on the bed still and kisses your breast —and you twist your hips, hands slipping from his hair to his shoulders.  

A sob leaves your throat—not a crying kind of sob, but an instinctive noise tore from your throat without your permission. He lifts his mouth from your breast and smiles at you, and you stare stupidly at his handsome face—the spark in his clear eyes and the boyish smirk twisting his lips.

Arthur palms your breast and squeezes gently. He shuffles lower still on the bed and places a sweet, open-mouthed kiss on your navel, and your sense of surreal disbelief ratchets to a nearly unbearable degree. His mouth drifts lower now, the scruff of his beard tickling your belly as he presses his lips to the skin below your navel and eases your thighs further apart.

Arthur places a kiss between your legs, and your mind goes blank with pleasure. 

“You alright, darlin’?” He smirks. You stare at him, too stunned by pleasure to find a clever response. Instead, riled by the teasing sparkle in his face, you spread your knees wide. His gaze drops between your legs, and his expression darkens with interest as he places his hands on your knees—stroking up to your thighs. He places another firm, wet kiss between your legs, and a helpless moan leaves your lips, and he hums with approval, a smug, half-growly little hum.  

You gasp in a breath, realizing you haven’t been breathing at all. Arthur lifts his head to look you in the eye. “Relax, love,” he croons, smoothing his palm over your belly as he laps at your cunt with slow hot sweeping strokes of his tongue. It’s not long before a finger presses into you, working you slowly open.

Your hips jerk softly along with his movements, and there’s unspoken interest in his gaze as he stares down at you, relentless in his efforts to see you come undone. His tongue and lips are at your clit, fingers stroking and curling deep within you. You jolt, and then he moves slower, dragging over the sensitive spots he’s discovered inside you and leaving your nerves tingling with every touch.

Pleasure washes over you in waves, making your calves twitch, your fingertips feel numb, and that high-pitched mewling noise leaves your throat. Overwhelmed—enraptured—you buck your hips toward his face and clench your fingers convulsively in his hair, and he keeps licking and kissing you until you can’t take it anymore. You pull on his hair to stop him, and he finally pulls away, lips glistening in the moonlight and fading glow of the firelight. “Enough,” you groan. “Need you.” It’s nigh a broken plea.

You shudder as he moves, situating himself between your thighs, calloused fingers dipping into your cunt to gather your slick and spread on his hard cock as he strokes himself. “Arthur, please,” you whimper, impatient, and he won’t keep you waiting.

He slides his cock through your folds before his angle changes just slightly, and on the next pass, your breath stutters as his cockhead presses just inside you—barely splitting you open. Arthur’s hand grabs your hip and angles you up just a bit so he can slide deeper inside you, and you cling onto his biceps—feeling his scars press into your palms and admiring the way his muscles flex under your touch. 

Arthur hisses through his teeth when he fully seats himself inside your warmth, then releases his breath slowly and smiles at you. “You’re lovely,” he murmurs, twining his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hands into the mattress. From the moment Arthur first saw you in the Londinium streets, he knew your fates were intertwined—just as your bodies and hands were now. He trembles at this personal heaven, then draws his hips back, starting to move.

You laugh breathlessly, mindlessly. “Charmer,” you pant, hooking your legs around his waist. You roll into his thrusts, pulling him deeper. His ragged breaths and grunts mingle with your sighs of pleasure—panting scarcely keeping up with your racing heart. 

He huffs in amusement. “Can’t say that’s something I get called often,” Arthur says as he pumps his hips slowly, teasing you and pleasing you almost more than you can bear. Then he lowers his lips to yours in a kiss—there’s something sweet on his tongue, like honey wine. 

His whole body begins moving, surging, and writhing against yours. One of his hands releases yours and caresses your cheek before he slides it down your body. Without thought, your body arches into his hand as it moves, ripening under his touch—thoughts clouded by lust and love. His fingers find your clit at the same time his mouth latches to your neck.

Another guttural cry bursts from your lips. He’s pounding into you now, and he’s still holding your hand while his other grips your hip. Your breathing is loud, and so is his, and his hand is tightening on your fingers. He drags in a breath, then expels it in a strained groan.

He shudders, then pounds into you hard, twice, thrice, and then he pauses with his cock deep inside of you. His jaw clenches, and his grip on your hip is so tight that it’s almost painful, but you like it—just as much as you like the guttural sound he makes as he shudders in completion. A few long seconds later, he gasps in a breath, then sighs and releases your hand. “Fuck,” he groans, holding his weight above you on shaking arms. 

You beckon him to lie atop you, his golden head pillowed on your breasts as his breathing steadies, sighing when you kiss his hair and whisper a quiet, I love you, for him to relish. He stays sheathed inside your warmth, unwilling to part just yet. “I love you,” he murmurs in turn, never tiring of how you smile when he says the words. Sighing, he rolls to the side, and you whine at the loss of him and the empty feeling between your thighs.

He lays on his side, and you pillow your head on his outstretched arm, nuzzling close against his chest and threading one of your legs through his. Arthur presses his cheek to the crown of your head and strokes your hair as the first dregs of daylight break over the horizon, shining upon England, Camelot, and his future wife and queen.

[Forever taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @hereforreadandwrite / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @rigshak ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my forever taglist, or any other character/fandom taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#King Arthur #King Arthur x Reader #Arthur Pendragon #King Arthur Legend of the Sword #King Arthur: Legend of the Sword #Charlie Hunnam #Charlie Hunnam Fanfiction #Charlie Hunnam Fanfic #my writing #wow i havent written and posted anything in a while #yet again im blaming you for this claire lol #how about we all petition to get this movie the sequel it deserved #also 10 points if you can spot the rdr2 reference

[skyward-floored]

Imagine if at some point after finding out about his true heritage HDW Wars gets sick but with every sneeze he accidentally sneezes fire and no one can figure out how to stop it.

So I don't know if I want this to be how Zelda actually finds out but I couldn't resist writing this—

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

"No no, seriously, don't go in there!" Mask says with an increasing amount of panic, moving to block Zelda's path to Link's tent. "He's like, uh, he's really sick! Like, like throwing up and coughing and sneezing on everything, it's super gross! You don't want to go in there!"

Zelda raises an eyebrow.

“Mask, I'm more then well-aquainted with 'super gross sickness', as you put it. It’ll take more then that to stop me from visiting Link.”

“But... you might get sick!” Mask quickly argues, and Zelda considers for a moment. Then she continues forward.

“That’s true. But I doubt five minutes to wish Link well and check up on him will hurt anything."

"W-well, he," Mask splutters as Zelda strides past, "he, he doesn't want to see you!"

"Oh, is that so?" Zelda asks a tad mischeviously. "Funny, a minute ago you said Proxi was busy and that Link was so sick he could barely speak. How is it that you know what he wants?"

"Uh... that was before he couldn't speak," Mask quickly adds, but Zelda merely strides around him, nearly to the entrance of Link's tent. "Wait wait wait!"

Zelda pauses with her hand on the flap, looking down at Mask, who's still trying to block her while sporting a very odd expression on his face.

"...Is anything I say going to keep you out?" he asks, sounding like he already knows the answer.

"I'm afraid not."

Mask grimaces.

"Well... alright. If he asks, tell him I tried, and don't say I didn't warn you," he mutters, and steps aside. "You might wanna watch your hair."

Zelda raises an eyebrow, but Mask doesn't elaborate, and she enters the tent.

The first thing she notices is the smell of smoke in the air, just thick enough to be noticeable upon entering. The small lantern lit on the table doesn’t seem big enough to make the tent smell as smoky as it does, but nothing else seems to be on fire, and her attention is quickly drawn to the cot in the corner.

Link looks miserable, curled up under a thin blanket, dressed in only his undertunic and pants, and shivering hard enough that Zelda can see it from where she stands. Tune is sitting next to him with a bucket at his feet, and the sailor looks just as worried as she feels.

Tune looks up as she walks in, startles, then turns a glare on Mask.

"Mask, you—"

"I know, I know. Look she has to find out eventually, why not now?" Mask huffs, crossing his arms.

"He didn't want her to find out like this, he wanted to actually tell her," Tune hisses, and Mask has the decency to look a bit guilty.

"Have me find out what, exactly?" Zelda interrupts, and Tune and Mask both look at her, strange expressions on their faces. Neither of them gets a chance to speak though, as Link suddenly groans, and screws his face up.

“...Uh oh.”

"Hit the deck!" Mask yelps, and Zelda has just enough time to wonder what in the name of the goddesses is going on before Link lets out a loud sneezing cough.

Which sends a small burst of flame straight across the tent.

Zelda jumps back in surprise, and Tune quickly grabs the bucket at his feet and splashes water on the part of her skirts that ended up catching the edge of Link’s flames.

Smoke drifts from Zelda's now-doused skirt, and Link groans, Tune gently patting him on the head.

Zelda stares.

“How on earth..?” she breathes, and Tune and Mask look up at her, then at each other. “Is he all right? Is this a curse? How is it that he’s breathing fire?”

“Sneezing fire, technically,” Mask corrects, and Tune elbows him.

“Look, it’s... it's a little hard to explain,” Tune says carefully, and Zelda crosses her arms, suspicions suddenly raised.

“Was this one of you two’s faults?”

“No! Of course not! Look, it’s just...” Tune says, obviously struggling, and Mask sighs and gestures to Link.

“Turns out his dad is Volga,” he says simply.

Zelda blinks.

“Link’s... father. Is Volga. The dragon knight.”

Mask and Tune nod.

“That’s the one,” Mask says.

A lot of odd things that’ve happened in the past month suddenly add up in Zelda's head, strange looks, awkward avoidances, the uncertain glint that sometimes appears in Link's eyes. Zelda had assumed most of that was because of her hiding Sheik's identity (and she does still feel guilty about that), but Volga being Link's father...

Zelda’s head spins, but she doesn’t have time to ask further questions, as Link drags his eyes open with a groan.

“Captain?” Tune asks, and Link looks at him, face haggard with exhaustion. His gaze drifts around the tent, pausing on Mask for a moment, then drifting past him and settling on Zelda. Link stares at her, startles, then pushes himself upward, raising a hand in a shaky salute before Mask shoves him back down.

“Your Highness,” he croaks, and Zelda winces at how painful his voice sounds.

“At ease Link, you don’t need to treat me like that,” she assures, almost wishing she was still in disguise as Sheik. Link was never so concerned with protocol around her then. “Especially not while you’re sick.”

“‘S just a cough,” he rasps, and Tune sighs.

“Yeah, a cough that’s making you sneeze fire. Not exactly ‘just’ a cough.”

Link hums in a croaky way, then he startles as he realizes just what Tune has said, and looks at Zelda. Blue eyes meet blue, and Zelda can practically see the thoughts running rampant through Link's head.

"Y-your Highness, I'm—"

"Link," Zelda interrupts, her voice gentle. "Tune and Mask already told me. You don't need to hide it."

She sees him swallow, and Tune pushes his head back down to his pillow, a little frown appearing on his face when Link barely resists.

"So you... know," Link whispers, closing his eyes with a small cough. The action sends some smoke puffing from his lips. "My father's... Volga."

"Yes," Zelda replies, the shock beginning to fade, but still present.

There's always been something a little different about Link, something that set him apart from the other soldiers. Zelda had always thought it was more due to being the Hero, or the piece of Triforce he held, not... being related to a dragon.

She brushes her thoughts aside. "I apologize. Mask did his best to keep me out."

"She's too stubborn," Mask huffs, crossing his arms.

Tune's face hitches up in a smile. "Zeldas always are."

Link looks slightly more at ease, but still uncertain, and his eyes drag open again, circles dark beneath them.

"Princess," he begins in a rasp, "I know... it isn't much, but I promise you I am loyal to the crown. Volga is still my enemy. I wasn't a... aware of his relation to me until very... recently."

"Link, I didn't come in here to question your loyalties," Zelda says, pulling a chair over and sitting by his bed. "And I'm not in the practice of judging others on the actions of their parents. I heard you were ill, and came to see how you were doing."

Link blinks at her, and Zelda reaches a cautious hand out to feel his forehead, wincing at the heat radiating off of it.

"You have quite the fever," she says as she looks over at Tune, and he nods, eyebrows pinching together in worry.

"I know. We're not really sure what to do for him. We were just treating it normally, but then he started the fire thing..." he trails off, and scratches the back of his neck.

"Impa's getting a book that has some information on dragons in it though, she's hoping it'll help," Mask adds, and Zelda hums, pulling her hand back from Link’s forehead. She’d wondered where Impa had gone off to.

"I take it she's aware of this information too then?"

Something flickers in Tune's gaze. "She is."

Link screws his face up again, and Zelda dodges the flames that come out when he sneezes this time, Mask splashing some water on the corner of the tent the flames try to lick at.

“Uh... I’ll get more water,” he says as he looks down at the empty bucket, and slips out of the tent. Zelda is left alone with Tune and Link, and Tune sighs, brushing some of Link’s hair out of his face.

Zelda watches them in silence for a moment, Link’s raspy breathing the only sound in the tent.

“I hate to pry, especially while you’re sick, Link, but... when did you learn of your father?” Zelda finally asks, voice soft. “You said it was recently. Did Volga tell you?”

“No. It was before Cia split time,” he whispers. “That day she ended up... talking to me alone. She told me about Volga.”

Anger on Link’s behalf rises up in Zelda as he coughs again, from ending up alone with their enemy, from hearing such sensitive information from Cia of all people, from becoming such a major player in this war at all... but she tampers it down, and meets his eyes, dull with sickness.

“I’m sorry,” Zelda says quietly.

Link lets out a raspy sigh, and closes his eyes again. “I’ve had some time to... come to terms with it.”

He lets out another abrupt sneeze, flames shooting across the tent, and another several accompany it, the fire brighter each time. Zelda leaps to her feet, but before the flames can cause any damage, Tune whips out the wind waker and blows them all out.

The sneezes seems to have taken what’s left of Link’s strength, and he curls up again, looking exhausted as Tune lets out a sigh of relief. The younger hero pulls the blanket over Link’s shoulders as he tucks the wind waker back in his pocket, and then he smiles a little apologetically at Zelda.

“I think he could use some more rest,” he says, and Zelda nods, dusting some ashes off her skirts. She’s likely going to smell of smoke for a while.

“Of course. I need to be on my way anyway,” she sighs, not looking forward to going back to her maps and strategies.

Zelda looks down at Link, eyes closed in exhaustion, shoulders faintly shivering, the smell of smoke and sickness about him, and she swallows.

“I hope you feel better soon, Link.”

“Thank you your highness,” Link whispers in response, and sighs, seeming to fall asleep moments later.

“...he’s quite sick, isn’t he?” Zelda says once she’s sure he’s asleep.

“He could be worse, but... yeah,” Tune says quietly, then smiles at her. “But Impa will be back later, and I bet she’ll have some information for us. Link’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure he will. He’s terribly resilient,” Zelda says with a small smile of her own. “Thank you for looking after him.”

Tune shrugs. “Somebody’s gotta stop him from setting the whole camp on fire.”

Zelda can’t help her chuckle at that, and Tune lets out a laugh of his own as he walks her out, pausing at the tent flap.

“Princess... would you keep all of this to yourself?” Tune asks her, a strange expression flitting across his face. “Link’s still struggling with it, and if the rest of the army knew...”

“I won’t say a word,” Zelda promises, and Tune relaxes a hair. “Only to Impa, or you and Mask.”

“Thank you,” Tune says gratefully.

Zelda takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. “You’re welcome, Tune. I’ll try and come back once Impa returns, maybe we can all discuss this together.”

Tune’s eyes do something funny again at the mention of Impa. “Maybe. See you, Zelda.”

Zelda says goodbye in return, and Tune slips back inside the tent, a puff of ash accompanying him.

She stands there for a few moments longer, thinking about Link and Volga, and Impa a little as well. She’s curious about what this all means for Link, being part dragon (whole dragon?), and what he’s doubtlessly been going through since he found out.

She wonders how Impa found out about all of this as well. Did Link tell her? Or Tune perhaps? Was Link concerned about what him being related to their enemy would mean? And how long has Impa known of the identity of Link’s father?

Zelda shakes her head, scattering her thoughts, and begins the walk back to her tent.

“So many questions,” she sighs to herself, and rubs some more ashes from her skirts.

As if this war weren’t already complicated enough.

#if i had a nickel for every fic ive written where there was a sick character with fire powers id have two nickels #which isnt a lot but weird its happened twice #hyrule warriors #hdw au #legend of zelda #fic #and slightly hinted at: #hw zelink #answers from the floor #lovely hybinger nova #writing from the floor #Zelda: Impa how come you knew about Link’s father anyway #impa: *sweating* well. um. you see. #impa: it’s a Sheikah’s job to know everything

[countessqin]

So, I was thinking, 'beauty' is such a vast notion, like we all have different understanding of 'beauty' and what each of us will consider as 'beautiful'.

And, if I remember correctly Argenti and other Knights of Beauty didn't 'meet' Idrila in person? But all of them believe that they are alive and some are even looking for them. So what if when Argenti first 'met' or 'saw' Idrila he felt something like peace and warmth (like you know, when you just feel happy, peacefull and are enjoying life? or something like that, or like peacefull ocean?) and during one of his adventures he meets [Name] and when they hang out and idk help people together, Argenti feels the same peace and joy? that he felt when he 'met' Idrila? Like [Name] is Idrila, but at the same time not? Like [Name] is his Idrila? (not necessary in romantic way) Again because we all have different definitions and understandings of 'beauty', we see 'beauty' in different things and Idrila is Aeon of beauty so...

#i just thought about it the other day #I did read Argenti's lore but I don't remember a thing so #if he really saw Idrila then well #my bad i forgot #but like it is kind of a good idea #like you may see something and think that is the most cute/amazing/beautiful thing #while other will see just ordinary thing #if the above written doesn't make sence #well it did at some point... in my head #qin's ramblings~ #legends of trailblazer~ #honkai star rail x reader #argenti x reader

[theoldaeroplane]

I'm over 10k into this rivals-to-??? Revalink thing with no end in sight so I'm posting some bits without context in hopes of scoring a dopamine boost to push through it haha. if you like what you see, comments do a lot for me in terms of motivation!

---

His demands turn into an outraged squawk when Link pauses near a dark alcove, judges it appropriate, and grabs Revali by his scarf; he goes silent when Link slams his back to the wall, pinning him by his skinny shoulders with one arm. Not because of any startle or fear, but because Link has grabbed his beak to hold it shut.

Link's Hylian sounds at least as strange to listen to as Revali's. He much prefers to sign. Speech is painful and his words come out with their own harsh, uncanny cadence. His voice grinds and sticks, and he's been told it makes him sound like he's on the brink of death. But while it's good for very little, it does have some uses. Intimidation is one of them. "You will be ci---ivil to Mipha," Link says, heavy and final, like a portcullis falling shut. The Master Sword still hangs on his back, and he's well aware that Revali can see the hilt of it over his shoulder. "Or we'll see how well you fl---y without feathers."

---

[...] it's not the same as he remembers how he once had such feelings. There is nothing sweet to it, nothing innocent. He wants to pin Revali to the wall again and feel his heart pounding. He wants Revali to knock him to the ground and dig those claws into the flesh of his thigh, he wants to drag Revali down after him and bite down hard on his neck. He wants to devour him and be devoured in turn.

More than once Link wonders if this is some kind of twisted response to the years of cold shoulders. If this new strain is the only kind of affection he can crave now. More than once he decides it doesn't really matter. It's not like he's going to do anything.

---

"If I come back and find you two at each other's throats again, I'm plucking Revali and using the feathers to tar Link," Urbosa says, which pulls giggles from the other women. "Find ways to occupy yourselves. We'll be back."

It's a testament to Link's distraction that he doesn't realize he is once more alone with Revali until the very moment the box seat's door slides shut behind. If he were not already drenched in sweat from the lava-baked air, he would have begun to become so at once.

"Occupy ourselves, hm?" Revali says, pushing himself up from the edge of the balcony, and the willow sound is once more in his voice. He saunters purposefully toward Link, and stops in front of him, stretching out one wing---

"Let me see the sword."

Link blinks, twice, and squints at him. "No," he signs.

"I'm not going to try to steal it from you," Revali says, rolling his eyes. "I just want to see it."

[...]

"A magic sword," Revali says with disdain. "I suppose that should have been obvious. Tell me how a magic sword chooses its wielder, then."

Link does not want to tell that story. "I found it on an altar in the woods," he signs after settling the sword to lean against his arm. It's his usual explanation. It's not untrue.

"What woods?"

"The woods by my house?"

Revali glares at him. "Oh, naturally," he snips. "I suppose it made you a master swordsman as well?"

"Yes," Link signs, face devoid of expression. "In that finding it ensured the rest of my life would be nothing but training for that."

"Oh, come now. A few years in the royal guard can't be that bad."

"I was eleven when I found it."

It's not quiet even up here in the private seating, with the muffled rumble from the festival below filling the air. This is all that saves them from a true uncomfortable silence.

---

this thing is going to need a pretty thorough redrafting when it's done but I think it's got legs!

#link #loz link #revali #loz revali #revalink #botw #breath of the wild #loz #tloz #legend of zelda #corgiwrites! #fanfiction #fanfic #tagging like a lunatic in an attempt to source interactions. im so sorry the Internet is like this now #most of this was written before i learned about revali's jp characterization so you have to live with raging thundercunt bird boy

[always-a-joyful-note]

Anyway I'm crying because Tsumugi is trying so hard to help her idols grow into the people they want to be. She wants to protect them and their happiness and bond so much but she also wants to let them be free. She's not struggling on how to lead them but how to guide them, and she is thinking so much about them but what about thinking about herself? It's so fascinating to me that she's kind of made Idolish7 herself, which is I think why we see her struggling so much with the fact of letting them go....but at the same time, she's not wrong about how their terrifying growth is starting to fracture them in a different way than before. And and and -

#fandom spamdom #idolish7 #note's notes #YOU GUYS TSUMUGI IS EVERYTHING #because she IS a self insert character because i think she echoes what readers feel #but she's not a self insert character because she takes charge and has her own goals.... #and like i want to say shes written as a female character supporting male protagonists.... #....but shes also not??? #and her conversation with kujo about i7 feeling like i7 but also like theyre forcing it is just - ajfisodjfaiwoejriwsjroeiwere #she wonders if reaching the sky and becoming a legend is true happiness....shes just - #i didnt really coherently word my thoughts on tsumugi right so sorry if its not really a good character analysis #the point is that im obsessed with her and that she is also giving me so much damage someone send help

[sorio99]

Zelda fans will do anything to convince themselves that Nintendo is going to give Ganondorf more nuanced motives, or a redemption arc, or a sympathetic portrayal.

Y’all, I’m pretty sure it’s not that deep for them.

#legend of Zelda #Zelda #Ganondorf #look I love the more nuanced portrayals of Ganon in the fandom #and I understand the desire very much #but at the end of the day these stories aren’t written like the fanfics you love #ganondorf isn’t a complicated and principled king who is burdened with a curse of a demon he wishes to be rid of #he’s at best a slightly sympathetic but nonetheless evil antagonist #and at worst an antisemitic and/or islamophobic caricature #like I would love to be proven wrong about all of this #if TotK really does give us a deeper and more nuanced Ganondorf I would be thrilled #but these are still games made by nintendo

[importantdestinydefendor]

I have a random Firelight AU question for you, if you don't mind! Maybe it will be come up in future chapters so feel free not to spoil if you want to save it for then, but: what do the Parsians think when they see Azar's horse Zaal? I assume spots are common to this Maaren type of horse, but presumably not so often seen in Pars (it may be present in the genepool but none of the horses we've seen in the manga have that leopard spotting pattern).

Parsians are an equestrian people so I have no doubt they'd be checking out other people's mounts, especially a mysterious delegate from another nation. Actually, I'm getting sidetracked now but I also wonder what the general Parsian opinion about Maar is?

(I'm definitely curious to know what Daryun thinks about Zaal but I'm sure your fic will give us his thoughts on the matter at some point, lol. Let's hope Zaal and Shabrang get along well!)

Okay, I actually have not thought about this at all, so thank you for being my brain and asking this questions!

Zaal was, if I remember what I said about him correctly, mostly bred for heavy farming. And since he is in a rather mountany terrain, he has a lot more muscle and fat to keep him warm in the colder climate. His breed was already on the island when the Maarer came over from Mayram (that is also where their name came from and their "main-god"). And because the breed found in the mountains is very strong and resiliant, they were chosen for the heavier load of farming. They are usually not used for riding.

Theyr fur pattern came to be so that the horses were not as visable to preditors when heavy snowfall acurse or they had to hide in not dangerous snow drifts (at least for the horses mostly in the mountains, the ones in the more flat terrain obviously evolved a little differently). And Zaal is suppose to be completelly white - but I couldn't find pictures actual full white Noriker horses (that is the in reality breed i based Zaal on.)

The Maarer usually use more slim horses or those bred for speed and agillity for travelling and - most importantly - the militery. Some were already on the island in the grasslands (the area between the more "beachy" terrain and the mountains) others they brough with them from Maryam.

As for the Parsians, they don't really see the other types of breeds Maar has besides the ones the merchants and military uses - so similar to theirs. The only difference is that Maaren horses are generally more on the sturdier side due to the big differences in climate and terrain in their habitat.

Also, on what they think about Maar as a whole, the normal parsian citizen thinks of this really tiny kingdom that someday just popped up and is rising amonst the internatonal traders. Since it is still rather young as a kingdom, there is not much known about it. Only that they are very welcoming to everyone, allow every religion and belief and - how outlandish - have no actual slave system (this information is not as well known amongst the normal folk, more amongst nobelity and merchants.)

And their wine is very good as are their metals. Since those are their maingoods. That they also use magic is seen as just a rumor to explain how they are so good at defending themselfs and are so quick to arrive everywhere.

Now to Daryun. Since Vahriz has told him a little bit more about Maar due to his personal connection, he knows that Zaals breed is mostly used for agriculture and other heavy things. So he probably does a little double take when offically meeting Azar (I don't count Azars first introdaction as "their first meeting" since they don't actually talk or properly interact with each other). Maybe he will even ask her about it someday!

I have yet to think about such little scenes and Azars actual reason as to why she chose Zaal as her mount lol. Feel free to give me ideas! Chuck them at me!

I hope this answered your questions!

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #maaren au #firelight au #the kingdom of maar #daryun #okay this one got a little long #there are at least three different types of topics in there lol #thank you for the question though! #I also read your comment on ao3 (if that was you) and I will answere there shortly as well! #thanks for leaving one! #most of what I have written here is complitelly made up so don't take this as facts about Georgian horses! #(sorry for any typos btw) #also update to chapter 2: I only have to finnish the chapter art. I hope I can do that til tomorrow

[spicyicymeloncat]

I DREW ALL THE GREEN BOYS!!!

These boys! They’re in order of game release (hopefully) and it’s my initial take on every link and how they compare to one another. I say initial bc I wanna make more interesting designs for them later on (like give spirit tracks link uniform that looks like a royal guard outfit yknow). Oh yeah btw these are the 28 green men from the poll a while back.

There will probably be more Loz art so uhh yeah

#was tempted to draw totk link’s other outfit which looks ancienty but decided against it. we only need one link per game #four swords being an obvious exception #this isn’t LU btw #Lu seems to be really popular on here and like it’s got to the point where it’s barely connected to canon and like I’m not crazy about that #also I’m committing to alttp link and albw being separate people #as well as mc and fs link being different (but fs is fsa link bc I’m subscribed to the timeline written by zeldaloreyt) #and spirit tracks being here #currently chugging (ha) through a spirit tracks let’s play and like that game is so underrated #like he’s just a train boy #he’s saving the world out of pure coincidence #st Zelda gets disembodied immediately and they have to use trains to kill demons #amazing #I’m also playing through skyward sword and like #and like spoilers but THEY FOSSILISED ZELDA #I’m not over it #also can you believe that albw and tfh link are the same guy #he went through an identity crisis and dyed his hair green and like me too honestly #loz #legend of zelda #designs #art #doodle #digital art #loz link #fanart

[innsjovide]

huge pet peeve of mine is if you kill off a beloved character in fanworks (or like. actual works if its the canon story) or even suggest it, no matter what narrative significance this might have on the story being told, you'll suddenly be flooded by a billion people being like 'NO U CANT KILL THEM THEYRE IMMORTAL THEYLL LIVE FOREVER THIS IS WRONG'

#yes this is about korra yes im still pissy about it #the avatar fandom has such negative media literacy for a fandom of such a well written show #* lok isnt super well written but the original show is #if yall didnt know i used to write an 'earth avatar after korra' fic with some of my ocs #and while it was generally well received (for reasons ill never know the writing was trash) the overwhelming sentiment I got in feedback wa #HOW COULD YOU KILL KORRA SHES IMMORTAL I LOVE HER #like yeah i am number one korra stan too I love her but like. do you not understand the story I'm trying to tell here. #this discourse is coming back since atlas popular again and there was a teaser about canon avatar after korra (which is apparently a man ew #also its ironic bc korra fans all the time say 'lok isnt about aang it's korra's story now'. but yall are hypocrites #anyways LMAO #been thinking about my girl ever hadiyah saeed again #earth avatar extraordinair #it was like legend of genji but gay and i actually wrote 99 percent of it #so take that #innsjotxt #rant over

[destinywillowleaf]

how to go from a one-shot/conversation spawned from thinking too much about an unseen father to more than a dozen fic ideas and an overarching narrative about family heritage (and the generational trauma that comes with it), the importance of communication, and how all lives touch other lives to create something anew and alive in one easy step

#pokemon #sir aaron #blood curse of sir aaron #no seriously this was supposed to be a one-shot with maybe ONE sequel. now there's 4 sequels and at least 7 directly related side stories #and three (3) fics that are more or less gonna serve as prequels/background for all my canons at this point when riley's involved #it was also only supposed to be one and then i had Ideas and did not stop them. #(benefit of setting things during legends arceus and promptly ignoring the actual protag) #i've only had the core idea rolling around my brain for 6 months and there's this many fics. prequel 1 came before but the others are newer #at least i'm not trying to write an entire game plot this time unlike my other big pokemon project #so much of the conflict could've been avoided with better communication. not all of it mind you but the big issues? yeah #at the very least they could've been handled a LOT sooner #<- series name for all this nonsense in case i wind up talking about it more here. will probably post links here once more is written #i've got a scattered 20k worth of it so far of actual fic and over 10k worth of notes. 2k of those notes are for a single episode rewrite #i know that might not sound like a lot to some people but only the first main fic is done. the third one is arceus chronicles. #im making. choices. that's for sure. and writing so much aura lore you have no idea #i might need to make a family tree soon

[shy-sapphic-ace]

My fae hyperfixation has resurfaced! Here’s a quiz I made <3

#yippee #every now and then I randomly start hyperfixating on fae stuff again #once for a project in my creative writing class I wrote an essay about fae legends and myths and stuff it was so fun #another time I stated writing a musical show about a guy who goes to Faeryland to save his crush and stuff #I actually have five episodes planned out for that and two already written #still working on it! it’s pretty neat #I kinda want to share stuff about that but idk who would be interested #does anyone want to hear about it 🥺 #anyway!! I hope you enjoy the quiz. if you take it #and special appearance by the Forgetmenauts! as a treat

[thefallenangelsgang]

15 Lines Challenge

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture their character/personality/vibe. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well. @fablewritesnonsense strikes again! As always, no pressure, I just really admire these lovely folk's work: @helena-bug @just-another-wasteland-merc @roystory4 @druidgroves @heylittleriotact

(I'm going to be completely honest, I'm working of off 5 incomplete scenes if I just do BG3, so I'm also going to throw in some By Any Other Name quotes. It's technically the same character from a different story. The backstories vary a little but I'm confident the character is still there. By Any Other Name quotes are marked with an asterisk * at the end)

Wynleth Reiden

“Lathander isn’t going to strike me down if I don’t stop and kneel."

“Are you stupid?”

“Of course I’m not going to kill you!”

“And I’m still not sure you are actually what I think you are or just some freak with filed teeth and a biting kink!”

“My faith is entirely a different matter.”

“I am going to drown myself in the Chionthar.”

“It is precisely because you are a depraved beast that you get the juiciest gossip.”

“Yes, good sex!”

“I was married, he died… fifty-four years ago come Mirtul?”

“I- I think I need to be alone for a bit. I need to pray. I need to do something or I’m going to fall apart.”

“Is that why I took up the role of a garden water feature when I tried to dominate it?"

“Becoming a Paladin, beginning a life in politics, was how I could take control back. I never had a connection to Lathander like you did. I didn’t find him when I lost. He was never there for me in my darkest moments. He was forced upon me because it was expected . He inundates every single one of the worst moments in my life. Because of them .” *

"Here, every second of every day is focused on the words and what they mean and it's been like that for centuries. We are like an ouroboros. The dogma is causing us to consume ourselves.” *

"You are a soldier with faith, I am a priest sent to war. They are entirely different things.” *

"I have Saints, Martyrs, Prophets, all manner of Holy Persons in my family line. I was supposed to follow in their footsteps. But I didn’t. Not totally.” *

If you would like to see more of my writing (or some of the incomplete scenes these are pulled from) check out my tag on my account #Jericho Writes

If you are a Legends of Avantris and Edge of Midnight fan, By Any Other Name is a published oneshot about the Chapter 17 memory ritual you can find on my Ao3!

#number 4 has got to be one of my favorite lines I've ever written #It's also not subtle who she is talking to lmao #At least half of the BG3 lines are pulled from conversations with Astarion lmao #hes the only one I'm 100% confident I have the character voice down pat for #Karlach is in second place #I really need to improve on everyone else #I could probably bullshit my way through The Emperor #the additions I made to his canon lines fit pretty nicely #But I have a feeling as that scene goes on I'm gonna get lost #Anyways peep the line from the sex talk (number 8) #Astarion accuses her of never having good sex which... fair #But the girl was married for 50 years in a long distance relationship #to a sailor of all people #She might not be overly interested in sex but your lying to yourself if you think that shit wasn't wild #Almost all of the By Any Other Name lines are Wynleth arguing with Marius cause that was the conceit of the whole Oneshot for me #Them finally fighting out their differences about faith #MMMMMM Wynleth is how I deal with my religious trauma if you can't tell #tag game #legends of avantris #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #loa #edge of midnight #eom #Jericho Writes

[star-mum]

Okay OP nation I have some (maybe controversial) statements about the Straw Hats and I need y’all to listEN FIRST OKAY- HEAR ME OUT

Boyfriend: Zoro and Franky

Husband: Usopp and Sanji

Girlfriend: Nami

Wife: Robin

Luffy: Aroace king

#DO YOU SEE THE VISION ???? #like I am a Certified Zoro Girlie but thats not a husband... he has Boyfriend written all over him #I cant call him husband in my head - ‘oh that’s my Husband Zoro’ - ew no - 'thats my BOYFRIEND Zoro' - yes ! #Franky is just cool and sensitive like that -> the boyfren to defeat all boyfrends -> i'd fall hard and fast -> like embarrassingly so #SANJI OH MY GOD !!! THE FIRST MAN WHO DARED TO MALEWIFE #and of course anime he has a couple red flags but I always put those on ‘annoying anime trope’ rather than accepting thats a part of him (C #(OPLA IS HERE TO PROVE THAT) shit like in canon they kinda set him up as this totally uncool Wannabe Casanova (which he is !!) #but he’s also just effortlessly charming ???? me at 7 y/o watching his intro for the very first time ??? a goner !!! -> me at 20 yo watchin #GOD !! USOPP !! THE MAN ! THE KING ! THE LEGEND -> I have ALWAYS been an Usopp girlie -> cause im always right and i love to win #y’all gonna give a pathetic cowardly little man with huge dreams and an even bigger heart who ALWAYS stands up for whats right #DESPITE BEING SCARED ???? I’m in the chapel baby lets do this 👰🏻 -> also his tiddies are always out ??? DUNGAREES WITH NO SHIRT !! WHATS NO #risking his life fighting an incredibly powerful and scary pirate for an entire village who didn’t treat him fairly and DIDNT BELIEVE HIM #him going to a place he was Not Welcomed and constantly mistreated at only to tell a DYING girl incredibly fun stories and keep her company #cause he saw his mom go through the same thing as a kid ? -> i love him yall 🥺 #NAMI !!! thats Girlfriend with a capital G -> shes pretty greedy and a little bit (very) mean -> i love her sm i want her to rule my life #RO !! BIN !! the crush I have on that woman is honestly embarrassing -> she is THE wife -> do not be mistaken #i dont really see Luffy wanting a romantic relationship but that’s not gonna stop me from reading fanfic about him ; p #i had to edit this and glue some tags together so they'd all fit -> thats why theres so many arrows -> I have Thoughts okay -> let me live #one piece #opla #one piece live action #straw hats

[medtech-mara]

Chae-Rin is the Pepe Silvia of LoNC@imaginarycyberpunk2023

The SHINS!!!! Okay, so Chae-Rin is another old character of mine that got ported into the world of Cyberpunk. Originally, Chae-Rin ran a illegals arms trade website on the dark web, where she ended up meeting Jago and pulling a 90 day fiancé kinda visa with no romance in mind, but wanted his help taking over the city. Things had gotten too rowdy in little Seoul (this original version of Chae-Rin & Jago are from Los Santos. Aka gta5) and she wanted to show them who really held all the power. Thus, Chae-Rin started Okkangpae, or the Jade Mafia as they were called by other gangs. The only thing that stands true with Gta5 Chae-Rin and Cyberpunk Chae-Rin, is the attitude and love of guns. Let me introduce you to THE TECHIE of Heywood.

So Legends of Night City, the Shins, Sang-Il (Appa) and Yong-mi (Umma) came to Night city from Busan, the city was suddenly erupting in violence from the extermination of a prominent family in the area backed by Arasaka, creating a power vacuum during the 4th corporate war. Kang Tao was responsible for all of this. See, Kang Tao didn’t like the fact that Arasaka was sitting pretty in busan with the help of the Jung crime family. So they had decided to frame Arasaka for turning against the family (as rumors had been that the Jung’s had married off one of their sons to a prominent Militech family can you guys who I’m talking about yet?)

Settling down in the Wellsprings, Sang-II and Yong-Mi had spent their whole life savings, uprooted their lives, to give their child a better chance at life. They opened a weapons shop called Shin’s Cache and carry, where life would resume as normal. Well… until Chae-Rin turns 27,and is now running the shop mostly by herself.

One morning, just after the shop opened. Chae-Rin was doing some restocking, listening to (tbd station name) which was playing the hit song Spring Day by Korean pop group BackTheScene [I’m a huge K-pop fan, I can’t help myself.] and she used this time to dance and sing, trying to drum up some excitement for another boring day.

Without her notice, a Tall, muscular man, leaned against the counter watching the display, he smiled slightly at the display, and when she noticed, her first instinct was to point out how the man had a crooked smile, or that his smile seemed unnatural to him. However, at second glance, her stomach dropped. This man was dangerous.. he had blood stained knuckles that she couldn’t discern if it was his blood, or someone else’s. That same stomach dropping feeling she experienced at her second glance of the his man, who has now greeted her in her native language, was replaced with excitement, curiosity.

The man’s smile fades as soon as the sour petite girl arrives at behind the counter. He began to ask her if her shop sells a certain gun he’s having trouble getting his hands on. The Malorian Arms 3516.

Kicking a case under the counter slightly, covering it up as if she was leaning against the counter, Chae-Rin informs this strange man, who she’s pretty sure is a street samurai at this point, she doesn’t (she does) have that model in stock, but she does weekly trips to the nomad market, she’d be willing to acquire one for him. The man then flicks his finger at the young woman, sliding over his contact info.

A new contact notification was added to her internal agent: Jago and a his holo icon is that of a Tiger with fire coming from its eyes. Knocking on the counter one time, the man then leaves the shop. Only to return each morning. Which clued in that he must live near by if he is willing to come by every morning.

After about a week, she finally decided to let him off the hook, she sold him the Malorian she hid. The man thanked her, and left. She'd held her breath out that she'd see him again.. but She never did. Until 2 months later.

He'd come in, Bigger, chromed, and dressed as if he was doing well for himself. Nothing like the shape he'd shown up at her shop the first time.

So, Jago wanted to know about this bar owner he had gotten a gig for. He had seen her going in and out of the place pretty regularly, so he figured she'd be the best person to ask. With a sinister smile came across the younger woman's face. She agree'd to give him such information, only if he agreed to go out on a date with her. The rest was history. These two were madly in love with each other.. Except.. Jago wasn't accepted by the Shins. They tried their best to prevent her from seeing that dangerous man, but nothing worked.

You might ask yourself, Chae-Rin is 27, why doesnt she move out? Well, thats because she wants to take over Shin Cache and Carry, if she upsets her father, than she might never get ownership, crushing her own dream to expand the brand with her own drones that she's been making since she was 8. During this time, you had to be in good with some Nomads to keep a good and interesting stock alive, and if Chae-Rin burned that bridge with her parents, the contact with the Desert Foxes ceases.

So I wish I was done with this girl, but im not.

So, Lets Fast Forward to 2065, Jago meets his tragic and untimely demise by the hands of Tetsuo Okada, one of Wakako's sons. Chae-Rin see's that Jago's biomonitor they have linked suddenly flatlines but the GPS signal is still pinging. This meant it didn't mean EMP disruption, Which prompted Chae-Rin to jump on her bike... only to find that Jago is in two pieces in a parking lot, and the only people around who might know what happened, are leaving. Collpasing, holding Jago's head and bringing his body close to her, sshhe craddled him and sobbed, screaming. Mara, who is a pillar of the Wellsprings community, is so recognizeable, that the second Chae-Rin sees her, she knows who she is. Mara, who was in a rush to meet with Wakako and anxious to discuss the events that took place just minutes before. Just slid her details over to the girl, and told her that she would explain everything the second she got home. (oops..... Mara got wasted that night and met Jihzzy).

So fast forward to a few weeks after Jago's passing. Mara is 3 sheets to the wind, tore up from the floor up (because this girl doesnt drink anything but coffee and beer) and lost in her feelings that she wasn't being seen as a woman, because undoubtedly due to her large stature. (Hard being a 6'2 muscle mommy, but reality is that this girl didnt know who she was until she became a merc and learned she's damn good at it too. she hit a glow up, i didnt even notice it til Jihzzy had pointed it out). She's laying on the couch feeling sorry for herself when she gets a ping with just cords from Chae-Rin. This is how Chae-Rin becomes a legend of Night city.

Wanting to get Jago's birth certificate that was at his apartment in the combat zone near city center, so that she could have his remains sent to South Korea with the rest of his family, she had gotten attacked by a group of Lazarus mooks patrolling the area and were itching for a fight. She's barely gotten out, and was about to pass out from blood loss, when Mara shows up and collects her in Blue Remedies repurposed Meatwagon.

Much like an animal you nurse back to health, Chae-Rin chose to stay with Mara, never asking, no. She just stayed there to heal up without worrying her parents, but ended up just never leaving. Becoming Mara's roommate.

Currently, she works as a freelance techie, does some work for Night Raid when requested, she had adjusted Mara's Sigframe. She is also being groomed by Kang Tao by the man the Shin's desprately want Chae-Rin to marry. Cheol Gong-Ji. Who is happened to be the son of the family who exterminated the Jung Family.

[Chae-Rin & the Shins(a shame too cause they would let him be with her if they knew) never learned about Jago's real idenity, nor does Gong-Ji (he has his own thing in the AU going on.... holy fuck) Chae-Rin also never learns of Jago's playboy ways. She never learns about his marriage to L. ]

#Cyberpunk red campaign #Legends of Night City #LoNC #My OC: Shin Chae-Rin “Dart” #i honestly didnt think it would get so long winded #but i have nothing really written about this girl #My techie babes #I hope this gives you clarity in WHO Chae-Rin is #She has a much bigger role in the AU

[arcelian]

REMEMBERED THIS TIME!!!! here’s chapter 5, it’s RIJU’S TURN!!!!!!!

#breath of the wild #legend of zelda #loz #botw #my fanfic #gettin into the home stretch..... one more chapter to write..... (i've already written the last one lol) #anyway i love riju. i think she and link would be gossiping besties #they hang around and talk shit about the guys at kara kara #paint each others nails. you know #zelda also participates!!!!!