#wild sage and in the hidden places

[cafi-catfish]

Soulslike AU

Once upon a time, Wukong looked up to the sky with eyes full of light and aspirations. His soul sang with dreams and desire to touch the heavens. To become part of the Celestial Order, one of the many stars illuminating the mortal world - the brightest, the biggest, outshining all the others.

Not just for himself, at first. For his subjects, his lands, his moon that kept him warm on cold nights. But it was hardly magnanimity that was at the top of everything. Behind the desire to give to others sprouted just as much a desire to take, to appropriate only for himself.

In canon, Wukong is humbled and shown the right path where cruelty has no place. In this AU, Heaven fails to catch the skittish monkey. In his greed, the Sage ceases to see boundaries. There is not a single living being who can stop a wild animal who thinks he is a god. There are no rules. Only greed.

With unlimited power, Wukong continued to climb forward. Further, higher. Why stop there? Why worry about the pitiful lives crunching beneath his claws and teeth? Ahead, at the very top, lies the forbidden poisonous fruit. The deities and other celestial creatures meet the blood-intoxicated monkey in all arms. Even with sweat dripping down their necks and weapons in their trembling hands.

The Celestial Realm loses with a cacophony of alien screams and falling debris from buildings.

Many years pass before one wanderer meets one child in a devastated world.

Wukong hardly had a plan, but his treacherous actions were clearly sequential. Heaven fell first, then the bloody gaze traveled lower. Dragons were a race that had been despised by the Sage long ago. Only the most skittish and the most unsightly survived, hiding their brightly colored skins at the bottom of the seas and oceans. One of the first places Wukong decided to visit with his bloody march was the palace where the staff was located, whose iron he was using to take lives.

Ao Guang was the one who decided to fight back against the madness that enveloped the King's mind. He fought desperately, with the realization that he could not win the battle. This gave enough time for those who also realized their own and the world's hopelessness to escape.

Nailing the dragon's body with his staff, Wukong kept the old man awake long enough to show him what happens to those who go against the Great Sage. Mei, being the youngest and most confident at her misfortune was a gift of fate to Wukong. With her help - Wukong could give a perfect lesson to the surviving worms that called themselves dragons about the foolishness of the idea of fighting back. Having shackled the girl, he left her at the very shore, with no way to get back out to sea. The bayonets-strong ribbons glinting in the sunlight from every attempt to break free of the shackles-clenched the bulky body with scorching pain. She remained there, still struggling to break free, unable to see the light of the sun that had long ago hidden the stench of death Wukong had brought.

And Sun Wukong, the Monkey King.

He wears a Macaque scarf and a cape made of Azure Lion skin.

(if you find any errors in the text, I apologize in advance. English is not my first language)

#Soulslike AU #lego monkie kid #lmk fanart #lmk sun wukong #monkie kid #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #lmk macaque #monkey king #wukong #lmk mei #bai he lmk #baihe #bai he #lmk

[c0smoshit]

Hug headcanons!!

⋆ ࣪. ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 ≫ time, warriors, twilight, wild, sky and sage (totk)

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ don't read if you hate awful amounts of fluff, not proofread!

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ I'm planning on writing more headcanons about not only linked universe but other fandoms, let me know if you like them :))

Time

★ Def wouldn't hug u at first ( he is the princess knight after all )

★ But when he warms up to you, be ready to recieve the biggest hugs ever

★ Would hold your nape, pulling you closer to his neck, letting your arms freely wrap around him

★ Idk but he gives off the vibes of pulling off long hugs, just breathing into you and taking all of you in

"We're ba-"

He didn't even finish his sentence as he felt his breath being violently taken away from his lungs. And when he lowered his eyes to see your head crushed into his chest, he let down his guard.

Some stared at you, others whispered under their breaths and the rest just didn't care. And he didn't either, he enjoyed the warmth you seemed to pass to his cold body, pressing your front closer to him as a hidden grin painted itself on his lips.

But he was happy to be back with the rest of the group, and he ceirtanly wasn't the only one.

Warriors

★ This cocky mf acts like he doesn't care if you hug him, but he is dying inside

★ He finally got to feel you closer to him, and he would kill to have you this close once again

★ And that's a win win

★ Expect some unexpected bone-crushing hugs after your first one as he has already taken the clue that you weren't uncomfortable

★ This boy is desesperate

"I'm alright, I'm alright"

He then patted your back, his other arm still grabbing his sword. Although you couldn't see it, he had a huge smirk plastered on his face that soon would be pried off his face.

"Oh? Alright then"

Your teasing tone never failed to leave him blushing under his cocky facade, so when you pried yourself off his chest mimicking his smirk he was so confused.

Your back was soon turned to him and he wished he hadn't opened up his mouth in the first place.

"Wait-"

Twilight

★ He literally can transform himself into a wolf so expect the warmest hugs ever

★ He would always try to be as close as you as possible, always using some excuses as if to lend you his hand whenever you had to climb something, shield ready to protect you from any attack

★ The fur he has on his tunic doubles up cozy points ;)

★ He would definitely be the type to cuddle anywhere right after you gave him a small hug

"You're freezing, y/n"

Your eyes found his own ones, bathed in the comfortable hues of orange that the makeshift fire was able to emit. You tried to nod it off, telling him that you were okay, but he saw the way you were trembling under your clothes.

"Come here"

In just two words he got you entirely over him, the moment he opened up his tunic for you to sit on his lap as he tried to warm both of you up, you were at his complete mercy.

"Much better"

Your muttered out words made his heart ache, seeing your form clinging into him as you hid your face on his neck was definitely something else. His surprisingly hot hands soon travelled to your back drawing soothing circles into your skin.

Wild

★ He goes absolutely mad

★ The moment you wrap your arms around him he is absolutely at your mercy

★ He could spent days with you clinging on him, and he surely would cling onto you all day long

★ He would and will give you surprise hugs, whenever you are doing some tasks outside or just whenever your back is facing him

★ Absolutely adores teasing you ;)

Your loud shriek filled the whole inn you guys stopped by to rest.

The reason?

A sneaky bastard that happened to wrap his arms around your waist and lift you up in the air. Thanks to the corner of your eye, you could see his characteristic blue tunic, so you were a bit less spooked out.

"Link!"

His chuckle mixed with the soft sway of the afternoon leafs were the only thing that filled up your mind now. That and his strong arms placing you back down on the ground, your hands holding them for dear life as you felt his face smashed on your shoulder.

He really acted like an hyperactive puppy

Sky

★ Okay so this man, sleep

★ Loves, loves, loves deep and prolonged hugs. He feels as if you were a blanket surrounding his body.

★ So whenever he had to share a room with you in a inn or something he would "accidentaly" book one with only one bed available

★ wink wink

★ And god, the way he cuddles 10/10, would recommend

His legs were a mess mixed with your own ones, your nose pressed into his collarbone as he snored peacefully into the dawn. His arms secured you by your back with a force you didn't even know where it came from since he was asleep.

You didn't notice the way he had enveloped your body with his own one but you were too tired to care. Happily snuggling into his neck as you enjoyed this restful moment.

Looking up into his face before your weary eyes closed themselves, you saw the most serene expression you had ever seen on anyone before.

The perfect cuddle buddy

Sage

★ I see him as a more chill version of Wild

★ Always ready to recieve and give the greatest hugs you or he could give

★ Would literally think you hate him if one day you forgot to hug him before waving him goodbye

★ Adores being as close to you as possible, listening to your endless anecdotes

"Hey there"

Your soft voice never failed to make him weak on the knees, arms wrapping themselves around your waist as he looked over your shoulder to whatever food you were making.

Silence fell over the room, just both of your mixed breaths and the sonorous sound of your knife chopping some vegetables.

He would often whine when you had to move from your spot, reaching some other utensil. He also weighed heavier as his body would slump into yours, snoozing into nirvana on your shoulder.

He never failed to make you feel so cheerily dumb

#[ 📄 c0smos!drabbles ] #linked universe #lu #lu x reader #linked universe x reader #loz link x reader #twilight princess x reader #warriors x reader #sky x reader #time x reader #sage x reader #wild x reader #loz x reader #legend of zelda x you #legend of zelda x reader #link twilight princess #link legend of zelda #link #totk link #botw x reader #totk x reader #tp link x reader #hyrule warriors #legend of zelda headcanons #loz headcanons #loz link

[powdermelonkeg]

Theory that solves(?) "founding of Hyrule" timeline inconsistencies:

Origin of Hyrule no. 1: Skyward Sword. Zelda, Link, and the Skylians settle the surface world at the game's conclusion. Notably, their dress looks nothing like the Zonai era.

Origin of Hyrule no. 2: Tears of the Kingdom. Rauru and Sonia are the king and queen who founded Hyrule. Notably, Zonai mechanisms and architecture greatly resemble the pre-Skyward-Sword-era Lanayru mining tech and symbolism, though Skyward Sword's art direction is more cartoony than TotK, so that has to be taken into account.

That's where it gets cyclical. If TotK's forgotten era came first, then:

Zonai influence should be ALL OVER Skyloft

The Gerudo should not exist, because they're (implied to be) descended from Groose, a Skylian; at the very least, there should have been a whole Gerudo culture in the Sky

Where did the Secret Stones go?

We should have seen Zeldra flying around in the sky, let alone Dinraal, Farosh, and Naydra

But if Skyward Sword came before all things Zonai, then:

The Lanayru Mining Facility (assuming it to be Zonai in origin) should not exist

Hyrule should have already been founded by Rauru's time

Of the two, Skyward Sword being first on the wild surface makes more sense. But if that's the case, there are even more questions:

Where did the Secret Stones come from? Are we to believe that Hylia gave them to the Zonai, since the Golden Trio have already left the Triforce and departed?

What about the Zonai themselves? They supposedly descended from the heavens. Were they just up so high that the Skylians couldn't find them? Did Hylia cleave the ground twice? Did they spontaneously appear up there like mice in grain bins?

Why is there a whole Temple of Time with bells that Rauru, one of two of the LAST of his species, woke up and went to sleep to? In fact, why is there an entire kingdom's worth of structures already built before the Sky Reckoning?

My solution:

The Zonai did exist pre-Skyward Sword, and did descend down from the sky ages ago. They built the Lanayru Mining Facility, utilizing the power of Timeshift Stones in their work. This is not Rauru and Mineru's era.

The Zonai are among the people that stay behind to fight Demise alongside Hylia, while the Skylians were sent up to Skyloft. The people of the Surface are entrusted with the Secret Stones as weapons against Demise, with the caveat that they keep them hidden. That's why they're called Secret Stones despite being well-known to Ganondorf in TotK, it was PARAMOUNT that Demise not know he could get any stronger.

The war ends. Just about every civilization is obliterated by it. The Zonai retreat as far from Demise's seal as they can to lick their wounds. They take the sages' Secret Stones with them, so as to not be caught unawares and lose them to Demise when he eventually reemerges.

Skyward Sword.

The evil is defeated, the Skylians come down to the Surface. That's the signal that it's safe to return now. Shortly after the Skylians officially start to settle, the Zonai, who know how things work, help them build a proper civilization.

Time passes. The Surface is officially a bunch of scattered clans with varying degrees of territory. People are content, though nothing is particularly efficient. The Skylians take on Zonai fashion and building styles as generations pass. The Zonai themselves dwindle.

Rauru, married to the leader of the Hylians, looks to unite the scattered clans under one banner in the name of prosperity and shared resources, idolizing the pre-Skyward era where the gods walked the land. He and Sonia officially name the place Hyrule, and any clan that signs treaty with them is considered within its borders. Mineru, meanwhile, has made her first construct models based on the Lanayru Mine Robots of old, which add to the appeal of joining Hyrule as its subkingdom territories.

Tears of the Kingdom, Zelda's first 12 memories.

Between the Master Sword going back in time and Zeldra's ascent, Zelda and Mineru get to work with as many constructs as possible to protect the Sky Isles they plan to send upwards. They need a TON of Zonaite, and recycling is a priority, leading to the gachapon machines.

Zelda knows enough about her kingdom that she knows where the land is particularly rich is where the people of her time settled, and Zonaite is shown to enrich soil greatly. This is why all the old Zonaite mines are underneath the towns in modern Hyrule, despite changing geography through other eras, and Tarrey Town's new-ness.

Zelda ascends.

The secretive Sheikah clan, having seen the Blood Moon's rise when the Demon King took power, realize that Demise isn't, in fact, all gone. They decide this means that their job serving Hylia isn't truly done, and return to help the fledgling kingdom as best they can. They bring the knowledge of the Master Sword of Skyward Sword days with them.

Ganondorf first shakes the seal he's under without form, leading to the first Calamity and the initial rise of Calamity Ganon. This is 10k years before BotW. This is also the first documented use of the Master Sword to seal the Demon King away, recorded in the tapestry.

The Sheikah are forced to abandon their technology. The Yiga/Sheikah split happens.

Literally all the rest of Hyrulean History happens after this.

Breath of the Wild.

Tears of the Kingdom.

#totk #botw #skyward sword #theory #loz #zelda #timeline shenanigans #things make a lot more sense if you divide the zonai into TWO eras instead of one #also FINALLY i have a reason why there are mines under Tarrey Town. like all the rest were iffy as is but TARREY #that thing was built SIX YEARS AGO and I BUILT IT #long post #bee attempts to make sense of zelda lore by eating all the wrenches nintendo keeps throwing into it

[evanox]

On a scale from king/queen of the party to shy awkward wallflower, where would you personally place a good match for each of the M4 of Last Legacy when it comes to a partner? Or what kind of traits do you think, a suitable partner might need?

{HELLO sorry I never responded to your requests I kinda completely gave up on LL BUT I was trying to find something and saw this was already fully written and it was a shame to leave it rotting here}

ooo that's a fun q thank you!! I hope I understood it right!!

m.list

Felix

Felix himself has always been a wallflower at parties. Sure, as a toddler, he'd eat up the praises of nobles as his fathers showed off the gifted kid they were so proud of, but he tired out quickly so Florian would rush him to bed before little Fe got too cranky and his magic started going haywire.

He still doesn't enjoy the balls—the nobility's massive egos far too stifling, only rivaled by the clothes his father made him wear.

Even in a modern setting, he wouldn't enjoy parties that are too loud and crowded. Felix might just hide in the kitchen to read a book or find the host's cat, only emerging from the shadows when it's time for truth or dare (he always picks dare, and it's beginning to get scary for others because there's almost nothing he'd say no to).

Felix finds himself more drawn to other wallflowers; even if you don't talk, you can at least look at each other with understanding before moving on.

It's great to have a partner who understands when Felix needs out. Hell, he might actually enjoy the party better with an introverted/awkward partner—it's the perfect excuse to grill any stuck-up nobles if they so much as dare to tease you if you stumble over your words or forget the nobility's strict codes of etiquette; only Felix gets to tease you (as long as you can take it), and only because he finds you cute.

Then you can both grab a snack or a drink and quietly slip out of the crowded ballroom to tour the gardens together. If the music is loud enough that you can still hear it faintly outside, he might just ask you for a dance amongst the roses with the moon as your lone witness.

"How un-noble of you, Felix!" you would tease when Felix leads you off the paved path and towards the arching willow where you'll be perfectly hidden from any other stragglers, then Felix would laugh softly before he presses you against the tree and kisses you until you're ready to be portalled into bed (for sleep or for other purposes, none of my business).

However, I wouldn't say Felix can't appreciate a life-of-the-party partner! After all, it is only a matter of time before an extrovert comes to claim their introvert, thus maintaining balance in this world.

Your joy might even become so contagious that Felix can't help but join, especially if it's too unorthodox for the nobility, leaving a string of offended gasps and/or disapproving scowls behind you—it's all the more reason to love you. You can swing and sway all over the ballroom and cause all sorts of mischief and pranks together, as long as you can respect when he needs to just go home.

Anisa

Attending balls is a minor part of her job, whether she's escorting a VIP or standing guard. From a work perspective, a more extroverted partner might be more convenient for making connections and entertaining guests. Anisa, however, doesn't really have a preference.

An extroverted partner is fun in the way that, when Anisa is standing stiffly in the ballroom by the buffet or the grand staircase, trying to keep up appearances (or even in a modern setting, fussing after everyone in the party), you can help her slowly but surely relax and break out of her shell.

Once Anisa picks up the vibe, she does a 180 and lets out the party animal (though this one's nowhere near as wild as Sage); you can see it in the way her movements are much more relaxed, how she throws her head back and laughs so loudly at the dumbest of jokes, and how she spares a dance for whoever asks—that is until she finds you amongst the crowds and pulls you in to dance the rest of the night away.

Just promise you won't let her overindulge in the wine or the punch (that Sage might've dabbled in) lest she starts acting too inappropriately on the job. You know she can't part too long from the buffet.

An introverted partner is great, too! Anisa won't force you into attending parties with her because it's work after all, but if you still want to come along, she'll take care of you throughout the event, continuously checking over you.

Oh, to have Anisa hold your hand and press a tender kiss to your knuckles as she softly asks, "Are you okay, love?"

I guess you would activate that loophole where it's like, she might not usually go out of her way to have fun at events, but seeing you wilting by the corner will push Anisa to encourage you to have some fun with her, as long as you're up for it; she'd love to pull you in for a dance, your hand held high in hers, and proudly show you off as her lover to everyone.

And if you don't want to dance, well, there's always the buffet! There are so many foods you can try, and Anisa can't wait to hand/spoonfeed them to you.

Sage

He's drawn to the life of the party like a moth to a flame. Sage might be quite the tease, but he still loves being kept on his toes; having someone who can match his pace might even help him burn out all that extra energy.

The loud, crammed taverns are where he thrives, and a partner who enjoys them too adds to the fun. He'll pull you for a dance once the bard picks up a jolly tune, sweeping you off your feet and hopping from table to table as people watch in awe how he swings you with such ease.

Hell, you could sweep him off his feet; he definitely won't complain.

That is not to say Sage would push away the wallflower! He'd try to pull you from where you cling to the wall—wouldn't you rather have fun than look so awfully glum?

Once you explain that you're not necessarily miserable, but the chaos of the dance floor just isn't your scene, he nods in understanding. With a wink and a swish of his tail, he asks you to keep your eyes on him as he blends in with the dancing crowds. You can join in whenever you wish, but until then, you're more than welcome to enjoy the view.

Your discomfort immediately triggers his protective streak, and he'll keep an arm up so people won't keep bumping into you as he escorts you out of the crowded tavern once you call it a night.

If you're attending a party at Fathom or whatever fancy palace for whatever fancy reason, Sage would gladly pull you away from the crowds and the noise to explore all the secret passages and chambers. Hey, you could even find an empty room or a closet for seven minutes of heaven ;)

Rime

Like Anisa, I don't think Rime has a preference. I'd say he might have been partial to a life-of-the-party sort of character—repressed choir boy craving an outlet that he is—but Rime did date Felix, who isn't particularly social. That is not to say that Felix and Rime didn't know how to have fun! I just think Felix's way of 'letting go' is more so through mischief and less through partying or socializing.

So in conclusion, Rime doesn't care how extroverted or introverted you are as long as you know how to have a good time.

If you'd known Rime before as the Starsworn Captain, you might've taken him for a reserved prude, but unlike Anisa, he doesn't really need you coaxing him into being more 'out-there'; he'll compete with you over it. Want to ask him for a dance? He's already eyeing you up and down, looking like he could almost eat you up.

Even on the dancefloor, he'd be looking for ways to fluster you.

Recall how if you choose to remain silent during the first confrontation in the Felix route, Rime would wonder why Felix would choose someone so boring over him? I think, if you're more of a wallflower, Rime might tease you a bit especially if he's interested in you but doesn't know you all that well—not to tear you down but it's his... unconventional way of trying to coax you into coming out of your shell.

#rime solano varela #felix iskandar escellun #sage lesath #anisa anka #last legacy #fictif #fictif last legacy #felix escellun #last legacy sage #last legacy rime #last legacy felix #last legacy anisa #sage lesath x mc #sage lesath x reader #anisa x mc #felix escellun x reader #rime x reader #rime x mc #last legacy headcanons

[yourbelgianthings]

aforementioned giant list of mountain goats songs for taz

sadly some characters i couldn’t find a song i thought fit for (i.e. angus) that doesn’t mean i don’t like them!!

Magnus- Against Pollution, Spent Gladiator 2, Training Montage, Billy the Kid’s Dream of Magic Shoes

Merle- Hebrews 11:40, Harlem Roulette, January 31 438, Noche Del Guajalote

Taako- Up the Wolves, Get Lonely, Get Famous

Barry- Blues in Dallas, Love Love Love

Johann- Your Belgian Things, Harlem Roulette

Lucretia- Old College Try, Heel Turn 2, Game Shows Touch Our Lives

Davenport- Idylls of the King, Maybe Sprout Wings

Hurley- Magpie, Love Love Love

Sloane- Dilaudid

Lucas- In Memory of Satan

Lup- Going Invisible 2

Taakitz- The Age of Kings, The Coroner’s Gambit

Blupjeans- Bluejays and Cardinals

Carey and Killian- Animal Mask, 1 Corinthians 13: 8-10

IPRE- High Hawk Season, Corsican Mastiff Stride, When A Powerful Animal Comes

Aubrey- There Will Be No Divorce, Dinu Lipatti’s Bones, Amy aka Spent Gladiator 1, Shadow Song, Song For An Old Friend

Duck- Midland, New Monster Avenue, In the Hidden Places, As Many Candles As Possible

Ned- Cotton, Wild Sage, Estate Sale Sign, Prowl Great Cain, The Mess Inside, Bleed Out, Going to Hungary

The Pine Guard- Fire Editorial

Pigeon- Jeff Davis County Blues

Mama- Midland, Bones Don’t Rust

Barclay- Color in Your Cheeks, If You See Light, Harbor Me

Minerva- The Young Thousands, Luna, Mobile, Clean Slate

Dani- Blueberry Frost

Keith- Alpha Rats Nest

Hollis- Alpha Rats Nest, Amy aka Spent Gladiator 1, Guys on Every Corner

Boyd- The House that Dripped Blood

Indrid- Alabama Nova

Thacker- Elijah, How to Embrace A Swamp Creature

Amber- The Recognition Scene, International Small Arms Traffic Blues, Oceanographer’s Choice, 1 John 4:16, Bones Don’t Rust, The Young Thousands, Family Happiness, Game Shows Touch Our Lives, Genesis 3:23

Devo- Cotton, Up the Wolves, Get Lonely, New Zion, Outer Scorpion Squadron, Hopeful Assassins of Zeno, Never Quite Free, Cry for Judas, Mark on You, Autoclave, Genesis 3:23

Zoox- Song for Lonely Giants, Incandescent Ruins, Autoclave

Oksana/Kodira- The Recognition Scene, Oceanographer’s Choice, Luna, Genesis 3:23

Orlean- Trick Mirror, New Zion, In Memory of Satan

The Curator- Deuteronomy 2:10

The Shoreside Community- Letter from Belgium, Going to Lebanon 2

The Coriolis Crew- Steal Smoked Fish

#message from mirph #the adventure zone #tmg #the mountain goats #taz balance #taz amnesty #taz ethersea #playlist #fandom playlist

[quitealotofsodapop]

I actually adore the idea of Wukong disguising himself as a mortal and working at Pigsy's while also discovering his own interests outside of being the Monkey King. Dude's been stuck in one job and one position for like, 2000 years, a job he presumably had since he was a KID if you think about how old he must have been when he became the Monkey King. And his responsibilities only increased as he grew older and suddenly he wasn't just the Monkey King, he was Sun Wukong, the Sage Equal to Heaven. The Prisoner of the Golden Hoop. The Eldest of Tripitaka's Pilgrims. The Hero of the Mortal Realm. All these titles and responsibilities just piled up onto this one monkey man who honestly just wanted to be able to live peacefully with his subjects and eat peaches all day.

That's not even getting into the trauma of the war against Heaven, his punishment in the furnace, the 500 years in the mountain, prejudice and abuse from both mortals and celestial beings and other demons, the Journey, and the I weren't trauma of being immortal and having to watch all your lov3d ones die.

Throughout his life; Sun Wukong is used to having so many names. There's an entire research article about it.

Branded with the birthname "Tianchan Shihou" in the Ledger of the Dead - now a literal deadname since he's crossed it out. The word "Shihou" being a privilege only his dearest moonlight is allowed to utter as a petname. He's been The Monkey King, he's been the Bimawen, The Great Sage Equal to Heaven, The Youngest Brother of the Brotherhood, Taiyi Sanxian/"Leisurely Immortal of the Great Monad" or the "Bogus Immortal" in his time as a celestial layabout. Sun Xingzhe/"Pilgrim Sun" during his Journey, and granted the titles "The Great Sage Steel Muscles and Iron Bones", and the "Victorious Fighting Buddha" by the Tang Emperor and the Buddha respectively when his Journey was done.

But after a long, long, long life with all those names, they start to feel more like filler than substance in his life. And certain names that actually meant something died with his friends or his mate many centuries ago.

But now in this "secret identity" he's adapted?

He's just Qi Wu.

Qi Wu; kitchen assistant and delivery driver for Pigsy's Noodles. Owner of an art history degree he worked day and night to achieve at the University.

Qi Wu; mate/husband to Mihou ("maiden" surname Xingjun), the most beautiful and talented theatre preformer in all of China (in Wu's opinion).

Qi Wu; father to a boundless gaggle of demons and alike. The eldest a tall scaly adoptee with lotus flowers in his hair. Firstborn a boy with a wild grin like his own. A firey girl brought in from a tragedy. A little stray shadow taken in from the cold. An impulsive former student turned dutiful son. A pair of twins the visual clone of their Bama but with their father's endless mischief. And Wu's mate tells predictions of more children, of both blood and adoption, in the future.

Qi Wu; baker of the best peach buns, and teller of the worst jokes according to his kids. Most insufferable, but impossible to live without according to his mate/husband. Most trusted employee to his boss/father-figure. An untapped well of knowledge to his teacher/other father-figure. Needs to get more sleep and to keep up attending counseling for his ptsd according to his buff fishy best friend.

Qi Wu; recognised by many as someone who is of importance but unable to place whenever he delivers to the village of monkey demons outside of the city. Only very few trusted stalwarts given the knowledge of just who the delivery man is to them all.

Qi Wu; golden red-brown curly fur littered with old scars and burns. Eyes a deep red and gold not uncommon to demonkind, but a rarity to primates. A pink heart-shaped face marking fractured by a long pressure scar that encircles his forehead, hidden from view either his untamable ginger mane or with a headkerchief he uses while in the kitchen.

Qi Wu; somehow knows many infamous demons and celestial-types alike from his mysterious past. Fears dogs, being on stage, and repetitive chanting.

Qi Wu, a man/monkey yao happy to go home and spend time with his family at the end if the day.

Qi Wu; someone Sun Wukong has never felt like before.

A person.

#sun wukong #the monkey king and the infant #the monkey king and the infant au #lmk #lmk aus #lmk shadowpeach au #shadowpeach

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Hunting in the Ghostglade

Beyond the fortress city of Amaranth there is a wondrous and serene landscape where phantom animals wander among their flesh and blood counterparts, dissolving into light at the slightest touch. For generations hunters have ventured to these Ghostglades to sharpen their skills and engage in sport year round, all without fear of damaging the local game populations. Whether the after effect of some long forgotten conjuration or, as many locals believe, the concession of a wild god to protect their beloved beloved children... the sight truly must be seen to be believed.

-A wanderer’s guidebook to the cities of the basilisk coast, 6th edition

Hooks:

While conducting business in the city of Amaranth, the party gives offence to some minor noble who challenges them to a duel.. though local custom differs greatly from what the party might be expecting. The Amaranthine nobles consider themselves to be peerless hunters, and so settle matters of dispute by determining who’s bow arm and spear hand is truest: riding through the ghostglade and its surrounding forest at high speeds while trying to tag as many of the phantom animals as possible. Since their quarry dissolves into light and mist after being struck, these riders are also followed by a pair of neutral judges who keep tally of the competitors’ kills, deducting points for unsportsmanlike behaviour.

A foreign priestess of Corellon has journeyed to the edge of the Ghostglade seeking answers and would gladly pay the party in escorting her further. Many of her order have debated about whether this magical patch of nature might be a working of their god and thus a worthy site of pilgrimage, though they’ve had only the generations old accounts of dead sages to mull over. Seeking the presence of her god, this priestess will have the party follow her as she seeks to find the natural temples of these meadowlands, or atleast places where they might be built. Her divinations do not bode well: no specific god seems to hold claim over these wilds, and reaching out to touch the land’s magic seems to make the phantom animals glitch out and become erratic. 

Not long after their first trip out to the Ghostglades, the party are approached by a fur trader who claims his brother has gone missing. Their family came up as trappers specializing in the mundane beasts that made their home in the strange landscape, and though the two of them have moved on to bigger and better things, his brother still considers himself a prime outdoorsman. At the end of the trail, the party find a very badly wounded merchant’s brother who’s doing his best to not be spotted by an eerily silent pack of phantom humanoids, faceless, but armed with bows and spears and far more resilient than any of the other ghostly creatures they’ve seen.

There is an artifact in the dead centre of the Ghostglades, hidden in a rather out of the way cave, an alien cube of unplacable metal with a surface that shifts imperceptibly like a puzzlebox made of sand.  What this object’s origins are, none can say, but its purpose is to understand, to observe and replicate animal life in real time by projecting hard-light holograms throughout the region in an attempt to build a model of their behaviour. However long the mechanism has been operating, it’s only been a few hundred years since the city of Amaranth was founded and people worked up the courage to start poofing its holograms for fun, disrupting its careful calculations.   It’s taking the intervening years for the device’s un-mind to create a working model of what sort of animal a “hunter” is, having only recently concluded that they are entities that stalk, chase, ambush and kill anything that moves. Over the coming days, more and more of these projections will appear in the ghostglades, searching for interlopers, posing a definite threat to any who make their living off the surrounding meadowlands and forests.

#corellon #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #5e #pathfinder #ttrpg #Arcane #scifi #Cleric #ranger #dare #low level #mid level #settlement #Wilderness #monster hunt #artifice #wilderness field #wilderness forest

[dotieeee]

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 4

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

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Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

Some mentions of violence

Mild voyeurism

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 4: Scarlet Sage

A whimper escapes the back of your throat as you place your palms on his chest in an attempt to push him away – but you might as well have pushed against a brick wall. Seemingly aroused by the sound you made, he sucks on your lower lip and angles your head for better access. He starts leaving open-mouthed kisses on your jawline, leaving you winded and your lips raw red.

“Please, my Lord…” you beg with a quivering voice.

The moment you start feeling his hot breath on your neck, one of the library doors opens with a soft creaking sound followed by muffled footsteps. The Dream King stills at the intrusion with a small growl – using this momentary distraction, you break away from his grip and make a wild run for it.

You might’ve heard him chuckle under his breath, but you’re not quite sure. At that point, you didn’t care – you don’t dare look back as you dash madly out of the library, and eventually out of the palace grounds. You put as much distance between your king and yourself, paying no mind where you were going or how fast you were going. You run until you reach the foot of the bridge connecting the palace and town plaza, clutching a stitch on your side, and panting heavily for air. Hanging on to the bridge railing for support, you allow your breathing to slightly even out before breaking into a sprint once more, narrowly avoiding collision with a man pushing a cart of what looked like tiny red flowers on stalks.

You reach the forest, noisily rushing past the floor of dead leaves as you flee, tripping occasionally on protruding tree roots. You get a little paranoid; you slow your pace a little and peek behind you because you thought you heard rustling – assuming that your mind must’ve been playing tricks on you, you resume your trot – 

Only to slide into a shallow, well-hidden ravine with a loud yelp that echoes throughout the woods.

Fortunately, you land on a pile of dried leaves, so it doesn’t take you long to gather your bearings and finally let the adrenaline wear off. You let out a few mild coughs before greedily gulping in the air of the forest, and, plopping down on its floor, you lean on the thick, exposed tree root behind you. At that point, it finally dawns on you exactly what made you run away in the first place.

Your creator and master, Dream of the Endless, had just maybe confessed the nature of his intentions towards you.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” You mutter to yourself out loud, burying your face in your palms.

Without your control, the incident in the library flashes in your mind; the way he cornered you and pressed against you; the way his breath fanned your face, and the way his lips insistently roamed yours and demanded access –

Mentally, you shake the feeling of him off you. How many teenage girls’ dreams have you seen involved such romantic trysts with their childhood crushes among the hidden confines of bookshelves, stifled giggling, and hushed voices? You certainly remember how the dreams felt: they were sweet and, at times, awkward; but also, thrilling and full of innocence. Your first kiss with the Dream Lord, however, felt almost too heavy and too sensual – it felt wrong.

And then there’s that other matter: you, a mere dream, had just maybe rejected his advances.

You gather your knees to your chest and buried your face in them, groaning in frustration. You have never gotten on the Dream Lord’s wrathful side – Candor herself has stated that he was somehow more lenient, daresay more affectionate towards you. Certainly, you’d fall in more favour in his eyes should you submit to him. But, as hard as it is to admit, he is your creator and King – and thus you see him only as a monarch, a figure of authority. You are loyal to him, that has been proven, but crossing that boundary was something else.

Now, you’re sure your refusal of him had deeply disappointed him, even enraged him – but was that enough to warrant an unmaking? Would he summon you, or search for you himself, and sentence you back to the dust from which he formed you? Just what have you dug yourself into?

   The gravity of your actions starts to hit you: you might’ve just doomed yourself to roaming the kingdom – his kingdom – a fugitive, forever in fear of his shadow, a subject of his ire.

Just then, a shuffle of dried leaves startles you. You leap to your feet and start backing away. Has he finally come to find you and punish you for spurning him?

“Who’s there?” You summon the courage to speak, your voice high-pitched and shaking.

Out from the distance, you hear a wild hacking noise – like someone was getting dirt out of their throat. You approach the sound a little more confidently now that you’re sure it isn’t the Dream Lord. True enough, you walk into the sight of Abel, sitting up half-buried in freshly dug earth; he really was trying to get the dirt out of his throat. Rushing to his side, you help him get to his feet and brush the damp soil off his hair.

“Thank you, Mera. My brother sure did a number on this grave – it took me a while to dig my way out of it,” Abel says cheerily.

Chuckling lightly, you pick up the earthworm that managed to crawl into his jacket pocket. “Hello to you too, Abel.”

There only have been a handful of times you’ve seen Abel rise from his grave, but the first time sure gave you quite the shock. Such is the fate of the first brothers: one forced to kill, the other forced to resurrect in a never-ending cycle of bloody murder that went on since the dawn of mankind. One could call it a ‘twisted’ form of brotherly love. Will you suffer the same fate, you wonder, under the hands of your creator? Will you also be forever cursed to roam the realm, being unmade and remade at the whim of a jilted monarch?

“Mera? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Abel waves his hand in front of you to get your attention. “Well, granted you have seen a corpse, or at least one’s that’s recently been…are you alright?”

Giving him a weary smile, you respond, “You know what, Abel, I don’t think I am.”

Immediately, Abel’s jovial expression turns to one of concern. “Oh, dear. Is that why you’ve come all the way here? To be honest, I do find it peculiar why you’re here, of all places.”

Trying to lighten his sullen mood, you joke, “To be fair, this isn’t where Cain usually buries you.”

Letting out a dry chortle, he relents. “Yeah, he really wanted me to have a hard time.” His face suddenly lights up and offers, “If you’d like, we can talk about whatever’s bothering you on the way to my house. And we can finally have tea! Your last visit was cut short, after all.”

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

“Wonderful!” He exclaims, rummaging on the back of his jacket for something you can’t see. “Aw, rats. I told Cain to be careful with this coat; he knows this is my favourite…”

***

You tread along Abel at a leisurely pace through the thick of the woods. You listen to him rant about how his older brother always manages to ruin this specific jacket every time he kills him, pointing at this back where a large tear is, in the middle of a huge splotch of blood. This somehow comforts you, listening to someone else’s troubles for once. It’s a humbling experience, knowing that the Dreaming Realm, its residents, and its dreamers would continue their lives just fine even if your master decides to uncreate you. It’s a bizarre feeling, but you relish it, nonetheless. So, when he asks you to tell him what was bothering you, your head is a lot clearer, your mood calmer – so you conveniently leave out the other details of that event in the library, only revealing to him that the Dream Lord ‘caught you by surprise’ and that ‘pushed him away in your haste.’

At your careful wording, Abel’s eyes widen and his jaw drops to the floor, indicating he understood what you meant.

“You mean, he’s just told you?”

Eyeing him questioningly, you ask, “What do you mean ‘just?’”

He meets your cautious gaze with an apologetic expression. “I mean, come on, Mera. It always has been painfully obvious to everyone in the Dreaming how he’s had eyes on you from the beginning.”

“‘From the beginning?’ How come no one bothered to tell me, then?” you mutter sourly. “How come it seems like everyone knows something except me?”

“Honestly, Mera, no one wants to interfere with his…affairs. I thought you already knew, given that he’s always around you and all. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry if I were you. I’ve seen him around you. With you, he’s a lot…nicer. I don’t know how else to put it. With anyone else…oh boy,” he lets out a dry chuckle, before continuing. “The gloom emanating from him – hard to imagine how he’s related to Death, she’s always so sweet.”

“I’ve heard that before,” you mutter darkly, but Abel doesn’t seem to hear.

“Oh, look! We’re nearly there! There’s that old path leading to the house.” He points to a narrow, beaten path, and sure enough, you can see how it led to a thinner set of woods with much more clearing, indicating that you were almost about to exit the forest. “You’re still coming over for tea, right? I can bake us some gingersnaps. You know, Cain once clobbered me on the head with a cast iron pan for making them too sweet…”

Glad for a change of topic, you follow Abel to the path, listening to him recall the cookie recipe, absently noting how he’s forgotten to add salt, of all things, to his mental list. Right now, you needed a strategy: the Dream Lord might’ve taken you off work temporarily, but it doesn’t mean you can’t pop by the sea of dreams unnoticed. Figuring it was the only way you could avoid him, you resolve to stay away as much as you can and for as long as you can from the palace grounds, at least until your master’s interest has waned – you silently offer a prayer to the Fates that it does soon.

Good luck with that, the Voice mutters darkly. 

***

Dream of the Endless immediately feels the loss of your warmth the moment you wriggle away from his embrace. Chuckling darkly to himself, his heated gaze follows you as you scurry your way out of the library, leaving him to deal with a rather painful arousal that’s begging to be relieved. He regains control of himself before sauntering over to the table where your scribbled notes were, lazily running his fingers over the papers in deep thought. Would he have taken you right there, on the table, had you not resisted? He would’ve, he admits to himself, but he’s also aware it’s hardly the proper place – he wants your first time with him to be burned into your memory; thus, he would have to make it special and in the privacy of his own chambers. Besides, even that kiss you briefly shared with him seems to have proven too much of a confession for you. He couldn’t deny that he’s thrilled by the chase you’re giving, but he could drive you further away should he increase his pace. He would have to keep his distance, for now, taking satisfaction from the fact that he’d eventually win you as his prize in this game he could play for eternity.

Quietly, he approaches his librarian’s desk. He had other matters in the Realm to take care of before he can contemplate his next move on you.

“Lucienne.”

The royal librarian in question nearly jumps from her seat at his call. His tone might’ve come out a bit more biting than usual – he is, after all, still displeased with her interruption, however unaware she was of it.

Still clutching her chest at his sudden presence, she asks, “Yes, my lord?”

“I have other nightmares to apprehend and a matter to investigate. In the meantime, I have a task for you.”

***

It’s been days since you last been in the palace. You’ve been resting minimally since in the lush lands of Fiddler’s Green, and while it sucked to be essentially homeless and on the run, you’re grateful that you have not seen a single hair of your creator since the library incident. Not even in the dreams you have visited so far did you feel his presence. Still, even your reprieve could not take your mind off the notes you’ve left on the desk; those were notes which could immensely help with your work, now that you’re spending more time than usual in the dreams of the humans.

So, it’s in this uneventful night that you decide to sneak into the library and retrieve the papers, wishing your luck in the last few days extends to this little trip. You tiptoe noiselessly through the vast halls, your eyes scanning every nook and cranny with wary eyes. Finally, you reach the tall doors that lead to your target room. You press an ear on one of them to check for signs of anyone inside, and when you heard nothing, you gingerly push it open, whizzing past the bookshelves to reach the desk.

Finally, you reach the desk where the papers lay, stacked neatly on its corner with a paperweight on top. Lucienne must’ve tidied them up for you. Making a mental note to thank her later, you make a quick grab for them and move to head out.

When you reach D wing, however, you pause at the sound of a pen scribbling on paper. You crouch down, hiding under the nearest desk, straining for any sound that might give you a clue as to who it is. To your horror, Jessamy, the Dream Lord’s raven, lands squarely in front of you, her beady eyes staring at you with curiosity.

Panicking, you gesture to her to keep it down please, but in an act of treachery (or loyalty), she lets out a loud ‘caw,’ alerting whoever is with her of your whereabouts. Cursing under your breath at your rotten luck, your heartbeat thrums in your ears as you wait for the inevitable –

“Hello? Who’s there?”

It’s Lucienne! Fortune must’ve favoured you at the last minute. You crawl out of your hiding place to greet her, beyond relieved that it was her you’re greeting instead of a certain Endless.

“Mera? Oh dear, what are you doing down there?” Lucienne rushes to your side to help you up, as Jessamy flies to perch on the top of one of the bookshelves.

“Hello Lucienne, sorry if I startled you,” Smiling apologetically, you gesture to the papers in your hand. “I just had to get them back…”

She flashes you an exasperated smile, before inviting you to sit with her on the desk she’s working on. “Where have you been for the last few days?” She questions, settling once more on her parchment, writing.

“Uh, I’ve been around. Is he here?”

“If you’re talking about Lord Morpheus, no he’s not,” she replies, raising her eyebrows at the way your shoulders relax. “And don’t think you can evade my question, Mera.”

At her stern gaze, you balk and respond, “I’ve been to the dreams and Fiddler’s Green –”

“Mera, you know very well that Lord Morpheus has told you –”

“Stay here and recover, yes, but I’ve been so bored, Lucienne,” you say with a pleading look. You don’t tell her the other reason why; you figure she doesn’t need to know.

“I understand you’re eager to get back to helping your dreamers, Mera,” she says with a sympathetic expression. “But you know how he can be if his word is disobeyed.”

You offer no response to her comment. Flashes of him cornering you among the bookshelves replay in your head, and you mentally shudder.

“I’m under explicit orders from the Dream Lord to keep you in the palace.”

Mouth agape, you begin to protest but, one look from Lucienne silences you.

“He has ordered your own chamber to be made within the palace, where you are to rest from now on. I suggest you collect your belongings from the staff quarters and transfer them there. I can show you where it is.”

Resigned to your fate, you merely respond, “So I’m under house arrest.”

Lucienne’s sympathetic expression never leaves her face. “Don’t give me that look, Mera. I’m sure Lord Morpheus will be willing to let you go back to work once he has caught all the missing nightmares. There is one that currently keeps eluding him.”

You simply nod, even though you were dreading being in his immediate reach as soon as he returns. You have yet to meet with him since he stole your first kiss, and you’re still unsure what his true intentions are of you after you all but rejected him.

“There’s one more thing. Jessamy will watch over you from time to time.”

At that point, you let an aggravated groan, while Jessamy ruffles her feathers in seeming indignance.

***

The staff quarter wing is almost always empty, and the rooms were small and bare. Most of the dreams and nightmares recuperate elsewhere, and you can’t blame them for it – while the rooms were more than adequate for the rest your kind take, nothing could compare to the sprawling views that other places in the Dreaming can offer. Entering the room you’re assigned to, you’re followed by Jessamy, flying in low and settling on the bed’s headboard with a single, soft ‘caw.’

“I’m sorry about, you know, back in the library,” you say. “No hard feelings?”

As if accepting your apology, she caws again, this time a little louder.

Giving her a wan smile, you start scanning the room for anything you can bring with you. You don’t have many possessions, anyway – save a few clothes and a book to which you usually bind your notes, there isn’t much to collect. Together, you and Jessamy make your way back to the main hall, where Lucienne was waiting. Wordlessly, she beckons you to follow, and, climbing through the grand marble staircase where the suites are, she leads you to a floor high up in the palace – the floor which you recognize is where the Dream Lord’s chambers are located. Even as a wave of nausea hits you at this knowledge, you walk on, concentrating on the sound of Lucienne’s heels on marble and the flapping of Jessamy’s wings.

“This is where you are. Down that hall to your right. You’ll find everything you need in there, but Lord Morpheus also assigned you a lady-in-waiting should you want anything. She’ll be available tomorrow.”

“Wait, but I don’t need one…”

“Dream Lord’s orders, I’m afraid.”

You nod tiredly in acquiescence. “Thank you, Lucienne. I just wish I was back at work, you know.”

“You will be, soon,” she says in a reassuring tone. “For now, try indulging him. You gave him quite the scare after the demon attack, even if he didn’t show it outwardly. Good night, Mera.”

And with that, she marches off to the hall before going out of sight.

Sighing inwardly, you head off to the end of the hallway where you reach an ornate double door with brass handles. Pushing it open, you couldn’t help the gasp that comes out of you.

The room, after all, simply took your breath away.

The circular room is enormous and sparse of décor, save for the chaise lounge upholstered with rich velvet, and the towering four-poster bed at the center adorned in dark silken drapes. The room’s source of light, aside from the rich moonlight shining through the tall glass windows, are millions of glittering stars painted on the ceiling, forming constellations and galaxies, all twinkling and swirling as if they were plucked straight from the very blanket of the universe. To your left is a door, left ajar, leading to a balcony that you’re sure is overlooking one of the best views of the Realm the palace can offer.

And yet, as you sit on the edge of the chaise, with all the beauty surrounding you, you’re left with a staggering feeling of foreboding – deep down, your heart knows that all this grandeur comes with a price you know you can’t very well pay.

Jessamy lands on the railing at the foot of the bed, cawing, before flying off out to the balcony and vanishing into the night.

Emotionally exhausted and pointedly avoiding the massive bed, you curl up on the sofa and drift off to sweet oblivion.

*** 

Get up, sleepyhead.

Piss off, you bite back at the false saccharin tone of the Voice, now widely awake on the bed you didn’t fall asleep on last night. Throwing off the silk blanket, you leap to your feet and out of the bed, dizzying yourself in the process. A soft ‘caw’ alerted you to the presence of Jessamy perched on the chaise lounge, except there is something else draped over the couch.

You tentatively approach the thing like it was a bomb about to go off. Upon closer inspection, you make it out as a silk ruby-red dress, and on it a note:

To my little dream

You back away, hyperventilating, the bed breaking your fall. Who else would leave a dress of that colour and call you ‘their’ little dream?

A knock on the door makes your heart skip a beat.

“Who’s there?” You call out, dreading the response.

From the other side, a tiny voice squeaks, “M’lady? Are you awake? May I come in?”

Still breathless from the rush, you call out ‘yes,’ after which the door creaks open, and in comes a wispy-looking young woman carrying what looks like a bunch of towels.

“I’m Morwyn, m’lady, and I was assigned to you. You can call me for whatever you need from now on.” She gives you a shy, toothy smile which you return with your own.

“What’s with that?”

“With what, m'lady?” She questions curiously.

“The title. You can…well, my name is Mera – I’m just like you, you know…” You trail off, giving her a teasing smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Oh, but I can’t! The Dream Lord would never allow it, m'lady.”

“Screw what he thinks,” you mutter under your breath. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to hear it.

“Well, I came to draw you a bath, m'lady,” she says, walking over to the chaise where the dress is. “Is this what you’ll be wearing? It’s a lovely choice.”

“What? No. I can’t wear that,” you remark.

“But,” she starts, her face scrunching in confused panic. “It’s a gift! It will be rude not to…not that I’m implying anything –”

“Relax, Morwyn, please.” Giggling, you reassure her that you’ll wear it, but only to appease her. She visibly eases her tense posture before excusing herself to the door on the corner leading to the bathroom.

It’s going to be a long day, you think to yourself.

***

The dress was only the first of a string of gifts you’d be waking up to for the following days. They always came with the same note, the same piece of paper that seemed to hand down your sentence in the most subtle of ways. You wanted to ignore them, but under Jessamy’s watchful eyes, doing so would only earn the gift giver’s displeasure. So, whatever you find lying on the chaise lounge in the morning, you grit your teeth and wear them, even if they make you feel like branded cattle. You never had a taste for material objects, and you’re sure that’s not about to change, no matter how fancy the gift is.

What he couldn’t control, however, were your illicit visits to your dreamers. You’ve been sneaking in and out whenever you can just so you could alleviate the boredom; you know very well you couldn’t sit idly around the palace all day, waiting for an Endless that may or may not come. And you’ve been productive, too, even with lesser time on your hands. You know Lucienne was aware of it, judging by the way her eyebrow would be raised when you come into her view from one of the bookshelves, you’d just shrug it off and smile innocently as she shakes her head and rolls her eyes in exasperation.

After one of your little trips, you decide to take a stroll to the town square. Jessamy or not, at the very least, you had the right to enjoy the wonders of the realm that you love so dearly. For once, it felt like you were back to being the normal dream you always were. You get a bag of chocolate-filled croissants from the corner bakery before your eyes land on the flower shop – and the baskets upon baskets of pretty little red flowers on long stalks you’ve seen growing in the lush gardens in the palace. Oddly enough, that was the only flower they have on display.

Curiously trotting over to the shop, you peer inside to check if they have any other flowers, thinking you might just get some for your room to liven it up a bit during the day.

The florist greets you jovially with a tip of his hat, saying, “Good day, lovely miss! What can I get ya?”

You give him a bright smile in greeting before asking, “Hello, my good sir. Do you happen to have any other kinds of flowers at the back? Something I could use to…brighten the mood in my room a little.”

He shakes his head sadly. “So sorry, miss, but these flowers are all that grow in the kingdom lately, although a few gardeners in the kingdom are cultivating other variants. Harvest comes in a few weeks. I could save some for ya, then.”

“That’d be wonderful. Thank you!”

You walk out of the store, perplexed. How could the kingdom run out of other flowers, and the realm of an Endless, no less?

***

The Endless in question is somewhere deep in his own kingdom, in the lands long forgotten and abandoned by his subjects and his dreamers. He had received intelligence of unaccounted-for beings lurking in these barren terrains which didn’t sit well with him – the last time he had creatures of unknown origins enter his realm without his knowledge, he almost lost the Dreaming, his rule almost overthrown. If these rumors proved true, it was his duty as the monarch to drive them out before they become an unstoppable threat.

That doesn’t mean he couldn’t watch over you through the eyes of his loyal raven.

With the very little free time he had in his hands, he had been closely shadowing you with the help of Jessamy, making sure you were kept from harm's way in his absence. He had been diligent in his quest to draw you closer to him. He was quite proud of the palace chambers he constructed; the way he saw your face light up at the sight of it gave him such a rush, he couldn’t help but go back to the palace and tuck you under the bed covers himself. It had taken all of his strength to pull away from you, but he had to be content with a single chaste peck on your lips, and a soft caress of his fingers on your cheek. Perhaps it was the kiss that had inspired him; for with a stroke of genius, he conjured a dress he had fantasized you wearing, leaving a little note he was sure you’d find. He made sure the dress matched the ruby you wore on your head – his insignia, his mark – he was quite proud of himself with his handiwork, for it was only you in his kingdom, save himself, that sported the jewel: a silent declaration that there was no one else you belonged to. He’d do anything to see your eyes light up like that again, and so with those little gifts he started leaving in your room, he chased that high – only to be a tad disappointed that you seemed to find them wanting. No matter: he has more than enough time to uncover your heart’s desires once he returns.

Channeling Jessamy’s vision, he scans the surroundings for you – you were in the town square, strolling, wearing the jewel-crusted auburn robe he had left for you that morning. You were wrapped in it so elegantly, exposing the delicate skin on your neck and collar bones. He couldn’t help but grin, recalling how he was so close to marking that soft flesh with his lips, had he not been interrupted that day in the library. 

If there was one thing he has learned about you so far, it was that little defiant streak in you, manifested by those surreptitious little visits you made to your choice of dreamers. Although these trips had him worried for your wellbeing, he had to admit that this previously undiscovered part of you he found rather enticing. Only time will tell what other facets of you he can bare – and he has an eternity of it.

Breaking off the connection with his familiar and acting on impulse, he transports himself stealthily back to the palace, deciding to leave one more gift before he continues his journey.

***

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen those flowers in abundance, but its name had escaped you, and you had always forgotten to look them up in the library. You’re beyond curious now, and although you had learned how this feeling seemed to always lead you to trouble, it couldn’t hurt, could it? It was no big deal, after all – just a harmless little flower.

The library is empty, you discover. Lucienne might have run on a quick errand, so you have the library all to yourself for now. You head to your favorite reading spot, intending to leave the bag of pastries on the coffee table.

Once you get there, however, the bag drops from your hand, and the once-quiet library begins echoing with ungodly screams coming from your head. Covering your ears in the stinging pain, your eyes try to scan the immediate area for what the Voice was screaming about.

There, laying innocently on the couch you loved is a bouquet of the very same flowers you had intended to research, wrapped in a neat ruby-red bow.

On the library floor, you wait on your fours for the screaming to stop, bewildered at its reaction to a seemingly innocent bunch of blooms. You get up, practically running, in frantic search of those flowers, anything that could help you pinpoint the meaning behind their appearance.

You find it in one of your dreamers' books: ‘A Florist’s Folio of Fabulous Florals’ by Ferdinand Fink. There, beside a pretty painting of the crimson bloom, read:

Scarlet sage

Scientific name: Salvia splendens

Symbolism: The red-blooming Salvia flower is traditionally associated with love and romance; “forever mine”

And like a red-hot coal, you drop the book, watching as its pages close shut before landing on the carpeted floor with a muffled thud.

******************************************************************************

Link to the next chapter

Author notes:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 11/13/22

Edit date: 11/13/22

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

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@akiraquote

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@izzicle

@spygrrl99 - can’t tag :(

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#the sandman #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fanfiction #dream x reader #no y/n #dream x you #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dark!morpheus x reader #morpheus goes batshit crazy #lord morpheus #lord morpheus x reader #lord morpheus x you #morpheus x reader #Morpheus x You #dream of the endless #king of dreams #ruler of the nightmare realm #18+ONLY #tom sturridge as dream #tom sturridge character #sandman #the dream that got away #dark!morpheus #dark!dream of the endless #dark!dream

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

Wild Sage

New Monster Avenue

Half Dead

Get Lonely

Maybe Sprout Wings

Moon Over Goldsboro

In the Hidden Places

Song For Lonely Giants

Woke Up New

If You See Light

Cobra Tattoo

In Corolla

Spotify | Bandcamp | YouTube

#hyltta-polls #polls #artist: the mountain goats #language: english #decade: 2000s #Singer-Songwriter #Indie Folk #Folk Rock #Indie Rock #Anti Folk #Indie

[dorminchu]

Earth to Earth, Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

a/n: Illustrations commissioned from the one-and-only @addictivities. You can read the first chapter of the fic here with better formatting (it was written in 2013, so beware the jump in quality) but it's not required to understand this chapter.

Chapter Two: Hidden

Crimson light filtering in through miniscule cracks in the wooden walls could signify dusk or daybreak. Condensation tricked down in random droplets from a ceiling high above. He walked the perimeter of the room, then doubled back the way he'd come. Glancing down at the single poké ball on his belt. Red-and-white paint chipped away around the button, revealing the plastic beneath.

The straps of his bag did not bite into his shoulders. He took it off and rummaged through it. Empty pockets. Nothing in his wallet either, save his old trainer ID. Blocky, illegible text adjacent a familiar photo taking up half of the card's face. The kid in the picture smirked at him, wearing the same ochre sports jacket, the gym-shorts and sneakers with that cap to match.

He flipped the card over. The lower half detailed a series of portraits numbered one through eight, two rows of four. He could barely make out their faces.

An inexplicable sensation of deja-vu gripped his stomach.

His POKéGEAR, discarded a few steps away, gave off its own illumination. He picked it up. Its screen—cracked, warped, flickering—frozen on the MAP setting. A pixelated avatar marched in-place over a black void.

He reattached it to his wrist. There are only five places in the Johto region that I could be. The lighthouse in Olivine. The Battle Tower. The Burned and Tin Towers in Ecruteak. And in Violet City, there's one more. I haven't been here since I got my first badge from Faulkner. Where are all the sages?

Floorboards creaked beneath his shoes as he approached the central pillar. Upon closer inspection, he found a small aperture on the other side, just large enough for one person. There was no visible sign of a bottom, and the only way down was a wooden ladder.

With a sense of resolve, Gold brought out his lone poké ball. Flash of red light limned the room and faded. The cyndaquil began snuffling at the floorboards. Gold looked down at the poké ball in his hand. Above the button was an inscription: no. 155, HURRY.

His cyndaquil had long since evolved into a typhlosion. He'd neglected to give her a nickname—at the time, he wasn't thinking about it very deeply. Wasn't there a guy from Johto who specialized in rating nicknames? He must've visited that place. He'd have plenty of time to ask around, once he was somewhere familiar.

"Hurry?" The pokémon turned at the sound of his voice. Gold crouched down and it stumbled over to him, nosing at his palm.

I'm probably just on one of the upper floors of Sprout Tower. Whatever the case, I'll go check in at the pokécenter in Violet City. Once I have my team back, I can try to figure out how I got here.

Gold walked over to the ladder, took the poké ball and recalled cyndaquil. The ladder creaked once he put his foot in the first rung. The air got colder as he descended, his bare legs prickling. His POKéGEAR buzzed unexpectedly to life, causing Gold to momentarily lose his footing on the next rung and gripped on tightly, catching his breath. The frequency resolved into discordant humming.

He'd tested the effects of the radio with wild unown before. The Ruins of Alph were pretty close to Violet City, as was the sprawling Union Cave. It was unlikely, but not impossible. But it didn't explain the cyndaquil.

Once his feet touched solid ground, he could relax a little. When he looked up there wasn't any sign of the room he'd come from. The air tasted damp and stale.

He released Hurry again. In the brief flash of illumination, he could see he was at the start of a long tunnel but couldn't discern any details.

Gold said, "I don't suppose you know Flash?"

Its back sputtered, then flared up, settling into a gentler glow. Gold had to squint to make out his surroundings. Hurry just squeaked happily. It started walking down the corridor, turning back and chirping at him.

Gold chuckled. "Are you gonna lead the way, too?"

Despite its energetic temperament, the pokémon seemed reluctant to stray too far from Gold's side. As his eyes adjusted he could see that the walls of the tunnel were carved out of hard-packed earth.

They must be somewhere under Violet City. If they kept walking, eventually they would get to Union Cave. Evidently, there was some secret passageway from Sprout Tower to the Ruins of Alph he didn't know about. If they weren't so far underground, he could check his map.

Hurry made better company. The echoing frequencies of the POKéGEAR hadn't stopped. He switched over to the radio screen. The dial was stuck directly on 13.5. When he tried to change the station, then switch to a different application, it didn't register.

He hadn't explored Union Cave or the ruins too excessively, focusing all of his attention on the Indigo League and building up his team. The POKéDEX only required a single unown to register as caught.

The light seemed to grow dimmer as the cyndaquil kept moving. Gold quickened his pace.

He was hyperaware of his own breath, his thumping heart. His head throbbed along with the radio. If it wasn't strapped to his wrist, he'd throw it against the wall just to hear himself think.

He needed it in working condition. Maybe someone would pick up the signal and rescue him. No use working himself up over a stupid radio signal, but that was a hell of a lot easier to say when he had six high-level pokémon on his side. A cold sweat formed under the heavy jacket.

He couldn't see his hand in front of his face.

"Where'd you go?" he called. The cyndaquil was lagging behind. Its light was so dim now that Gold could just make out its silhouette against the encroaching dark. Gold broke into a run, crouching down next to Hurry. It didn't seem to notice. The embers on its back had all-but extinguished. He recalled it immediately, using his POKéGEAR's as a primitive source of light. As long as it stayed in the poké ball, it wouldn't be in immediate danger.

The only benchmark was a wooden sign planted in the middle of the tunnel. Above it, five unown floated serenely, giving off their own light. They had arranged themselves to form a single word:

LEAVE.

Gold looked at the sign. A crudely-carved message took up its entire face: TURN BACK NOW

He scoffed. "Yeah, sure, I'll turn back."

The unown seemed to sway in time with the blips from the radio. Their eyes, glassy and unmoving, could have been hewn from stone.

"What do you want? Do you want me to say no?"

His response swelled, echoing around the chamber. The unown quivered.

His surroundings plunged into darkness. He cried out, ducking down instinctively to shield himself from a strike that never came.

When the light came back, six unown hovered gleefully above him.

TOO BAD.

Overcome by shock, Gold couldn't formulate a response. A strong gust of wind blew from within the depths of the tunnel, pushing him back the way he had come. The unown radio signal meshed with the frantic pounding of his pulse.

He groped along the wall, blind. Part of the tunnel had a give to it like rotting flesh. It caught on his fingers, porous and thin, and tore like wet paper. Gold was falling forward into an unfamiliar chamber.

Six unown hovered before him, giving off their own light. Frequency on the radio degenerated into white noise. As they came closer, he could make out the letters clearly.

HE DIED.

A phantom force bound his arms to his sides.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" he cried out, "I need to heal my cyndaquil, please juh—just let me go. I'll take him to a pokecenter, he's going to be fine."

His feet left the ground.

"Please!" he wailed. "Please, he's going to die!"

The unown flickered.

A sharp twist behind his navel. Violent, rippling pain coursed up the length of each arm. The wet severing of muscle and bone. His vision blacked out briefly and he couldn't scream.

Just as quickly, the pain abated. Vision blooming into an unfamiliar room. The sight of his hands elicited a ragged whimper. He clasped his arms, squeezing hard enough to bruise.

Inhale, exhale. Too fast. Lightheaded.

Inhale, hold.

Exhale. Fighting for composure. Just a nightmare. A trick of the unown.

Inhale, hold.

Exhale, hold.

Opened his eyes again. Four bone-white walls, a ceiling hidden in shadows. If he stretched his arms out, he'd be able to touch the walls around him no matter where he stood.

One of the walls didn't look right. A facade of stone, disintegrating at the edges. He'd barely touched it when it crumbled into powder. Gold, coughing, covered his face with the crook of his elbow. His skin and clothes were coated in ash. In the vast and formless expanse there was no other sound except his pulse, uneven breathing. He was walking down a corridor he'd never seen before. At the end, he could only turn left and continue down another hallway. Each time, it took a little longer to get to the next corner.

His wrist was still lit. He craned his head in desperation, staring into the harsh light of the LCD screen for an answer. The map hadn't changed.

Is it possible I'm so far underground there isn't any signal?

His thoughts interrupted by a dead-end, and a hole. There wasn't any ladder. If he doubled back, he'd just be wasting time. He screwed his eyes shut and focused on breathing. He couldn't risk bringing out the cyndaquil.

He took a cautious step towards the hole and peered down. The dark was more like a void, out of time or space. As soon as he lifted a leg over the apeture, the world shifted on its axis. The hole in the ground moved to meet him, as if he'd simply walked through another threshold. Gold swallowed down his nausea and continued walking. He could see a faint pinpoint of light in the distance. As soon as he got out, he'd take a nice long evening at Violet City's poké center. He'd check in with his mom.

The pinpoint of light was growing faster than his feet could carry him. An invisible pull behind his navel, as if transported by an ally's Teleport. Loss of footing followed by an abrupt solidity. Fresh, nighttime air pulled into his lungs. Initial shock gave way to a wave of nausea and he doubled over, dry-heaving. Thin layer of perspiration clung to his skin. His arms tingled.

"Are you all right?"

He looked up. The girl was around his age. Her hair was dyed an intense shade of blue and pulled into twin ponytails. A pair of bright yellow athletic shorts and sleeveless red shirt, white jacket that was fraying at the cuffs. She had her own POKéGEAR, clipped neatly on her bag. The bayleef standing next to her approached him, nudging him with its head. The smell of the leaves around its neck was spicy, but tasted bitter in the back of his throat if he inhaled deeper. His upset stomach settled gradually into queasiness. He patted the side of its neck.

"Had my pokémon use teleport," he said hoarsely. "For some reason, I wound up here."

The last time he'd teleported anywhere was at the behest of the old guy and his abra, at Indigo Plateau. He'd only said yes to be nice, and thrown up in front of the Pokécenter in Mahogany Town. Given the option, he'd rather take the hike across Johto on foot, or on his own pokémon.

"Wow," the girl said, "you look like you've seen a ghost."

"Teleporting makes me sick." Gold straightened up and tried not to look as shaken as he felt. He noticed her belt—two standard poké balls, plus a moon ball and a lure ball respectively.

The girl extended a hand. "I'm Kris." Gold shook, even though his hands were still clammy. She didn't seem to mind. "C'mon, let's go report back to the lab. You can catch your bearings."

Back when he was working on the POKéDEX, the scientists at the lab would always warn him not to stick around the ruins any longer than he had to. It was important to pace himself. The unown were quick to flee, and poké balls didn't always do the trick.

He glanced at the single poké ball on his belt. The sooner he could get cyndaquil to a pokécenter, the better.

Inside the lab, the girl introduced Gold to Ken, the tech who fixed his POKéGEAR. Kris took a seat on the edge of the desk. "Where are you from, Gold?"

"New Bark."

The girl frowned. "I grew up in New Bark. I've never seen you before."

"I live right next to Prof. Elm's lab. Maybe you just moved in before I left."

"What are you, my extra-dimensional twin?" She glanced at Ken, who didn't laugh. "It's just, I've never seen you before. Are you sure you're from New Bark?"

Gold stood a little straighter despite the nausea. "I'm surprised you've never heard of me."

"Why?"

He smirked and said, "I'm the youngest champion of the Indigo League, to date. Among other achievements."

Kris shot a side-glance at him. "Cool. What's a champ like you doing in the Ruins of Alph?"

"Oh, you know. Sometimes you just want to get out of the public eye." He hesitated. "It gets boring when you're stronger than most of the trainers you meet."

Kris nodded. "I basically live here during the summers and go to the Trainer's School in Violet City for the rest of the year. Ken's doing an internship right now."

"So, you've been all over Johto and Kanto?" Ken remarked. "How many pokémon have you seen?"

Before Gold could answer, Kris motioned towards the 'DEX at his hip, suddenly very businesslike. Gold stood up. She smirked. "What? If you are what you say, this shouldn't be a big deal."

"I didn't say—"

Kris hopped off the desk, offering her hand without waiting for him to finish. With a sigh, Gold handed over the POKéDEX. Kris walked over to the nearby desk. She clicked on a lamp and studied the screen for a few seconds. She whistled. "Wow! Two-hundred and fifty one."

Gold groaned under his breath. "Look, I really need that back."

Kris huffed. "Just wanted to check if you're the real deal." She handed it back, but kept her hand over the 'dex. "Ken and I are working on the Unown Mode feature of the POKéDEX. You've only ever seen three. Lucky for you, I just so happen to have seen twenty six kinds of unown. Maybe I'd even be persuaded to trade data if you help me fill some of my missing entries."

"It doesn't work like that," Gold said. "Does it, Ken?"

"Sorry, Kris. Looks like you'll have to earn that heracross after all." Ken got up. "This could take a while. Kris, make sure he doesn't break anything."

A small, wooden box that would take up the entirety of his bag. The lid was sealed shut. A line of runes engraved onto the sides and top of the box were too small to decipher. "What's this?"

"Professor Shuri thinks these ruins are connected to the Pokémon Communication Center in Goldenrod City," Kris added. "The runes on the walls appeared not long after the Pokécom Center was built."

Gold stared at the box.

"If you want it," Kris said, "you can hold onto it. Nobody here knows how to open it anyway."

Gold froze. "I can't take this."

"Ken is only here because of the internship," Kris muttered, "and I'm not half as interested in the Ruins as Prof. Shuri is. Was." She side-eyed Gold. "You must be a pretty tough trainer to have beaten the League, even if I've never heard of you. Maybe you can figure it out."

Kris feigned a scowl. "Battling's not something I could do forever. I'm more interested in the research." She shot Gold a semi-apologetic grin. Gold smiled back. He was about to suggest that they trade. Once he got to Violet City, maybe.

"There's still a lot we don't understand about these ruins, or unown for that matter. Professor Shuri thinks the unown communicate with each other using electromagnetic waves. They might also have the power to perceive the feelings of other creatures."

"Where is he now?"

Kris frowned. "He's been away. The assistant keeps telling us he's sick."

"I've never heard of him before. He sounds a lot like Professor Hale." Kris and Ken looked at him in confusion. "The guy from Greenfield? He had a wife and kid, and they went missing shortly after he came back from an expedition. It was all over the news."

"Never heard of him, sorry."

Gold shrugged, playing off his feelings. "Maybe I got the name wrong."

Once Ken fixed his POKéGEAR, Gold was free to go back into the ruins with Kris. He told them he was going to make a quick stop by Violet City first—to heal his pokémon and check the PC. His old team was surely in there. He stepped into the crisp air. Nighttime breeze incurring gooseflesh. He was lucky to have his jacket.

The poké ball at his waist began trembling. He'd barely even touched it when it burst open, as though its occupant had been physically restrained.

Houndoom burst free. It caught sight of him and barked.

Gold tore his eyes to the poké ball. The red paint was peeling, and he had to squint to make out the inscription.

FOREVER, no. 215

The houndoom's jet-black eyes caught the sunset. It turned around, disappearing into the main entrance of the ruins. His chest tightened.

"Come back!"

It turned and yipped at him.

He could just make out the shape of houndoom's horns. He tried counting his steps. When he looked back he had no idea where they were. The houndoom yipped at him if he stopped for more than a minute. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I hope you know where you're going!" he called.

They walked down the long hall of idols. Where there should have been a dead-end, the wall was missing. The hall continued, narrowing until there was just enough space for the houndoom to pass through. Gold had to turn himself sideways just to fit through. He couldn't take his pack with him. He could just come back out and retrieve it.

The walls were widening. The stone was pale white, enscribed with runes he couldn't decipher. None of this was familiar.

Gold pursued deeper. The houndoom was sitting on its haunches. A plinth and pedastal, on which rested a single poké ball. It wasn't one Gold had ever seen before. His best approximation was a Safari Ball but the make was wood, rather than plastic. Faultless, like something Kurt would obsess over.

A pack of unown peeled themselves from the dark to hover in front of him, flashing scarlet: RELIVE.

"What do you want?" he shouted up at them. The unown merely blinked and disappeared.

The houndoom yelped, twisting its body towards something Gold could not see. Houndoom began to sink through the floor itself, wailing. Gold quickly recalled it to him, but he was sinking too. The shadows coalesced around him, like an ariados's web. Clutching the poké ball tightly, he held his breath as the ground closed up above him

subsumed, thrashing, gasping, all he could taste was the bitter cloying ash and burning wood

on solid ground.

Looking out over a mountain peak. A small flight of steps led to a narrow path, blanketed by a thick layer of snow. The sky was bright blue, unbroken by clouds. When he took in air, there wasn't any burning sting in his lungs from the elements.

The boy standing next to him gave no indication Gold was there. His skin was almost translucent. Gold didn't turn to look at his face. Nurses from the pokécenter never made it this far up the mountain.

"It's over," he said hoarsely. The wind howled low around them. "Isn't it?"

The other boy raised his hand and adjusted his worn cap. His attention shifted to Gold, and he gesticulated towards his belt. Gold glanced down at his own waist, experiencing a fleeting moment of déjà vu. Houndoom already stood patiently at his side.

He clicked it open. Nothing happened.

Something heavy caught hold of his shirt, pulling him down.

A typhlosion, fur flecked in snow. The bottom half of its body was torn away. A trail of blood and entrails led from the gap in the rock's face. The pokémon shuddered, maw agape, fire sputtering weakly across the span of its neck and shoulders.

Gold didn't have any medicine. It wouldn't make a difference now, any more than returning typhlosion to her ball. As she clung to these last moments in stasis, he'd only be delaying the inevitable. What kind of trainer would allow their pokémon to suffer like this?

Hooking an arm under the typhlosion's, they began to move haphazardly towards the mouth of the cave. They had only taken a few steps when typhlosion fell, and Gold was dragged with it, falling to one knee. Anticpating the sharp shock of falling through snow, instead ash. As he struggled to free his arm from its grasp, the pokémon's grip on him was too strong.

The ash beneath them clung to her fur and his skin.

"It's okay," he whispered. "It's not going to hurt anymore." His throat tightened. The pokémon wheezed, and the arm that held its prize pushed against his chest. He looked down at the egg, tan, flecked with earthen spots and sticky with crimson, then back to the typhlosion.

Gold placed his hands upon the egg's shell as if to retrieve it. The typhlosion slumped forward. Its grip on him slackened.

He couldn't bury his friend in the mountain face. He looked back towards the trail of blood.

A pack of unown burst from the shadowy mouth, stopping above him to spell the word: DENY.

Gold moved past them. Clutching the blood-slick egg in his arms, into the cave.

The egg began to shudder in his arms. A jagged crack marred the egg's thick shell.

Gold crouched down upon the cold stone, cross-legged and hastened to remove his jacket. Houndoom came closer, shielding the egg from the elements. The cyndaquil poked out, chirped at him. There was no trace of injury.

Gold's eyes welled up.

"It's you," he whispered, losing composure. "I knew you'd be okay."

He didn't have enough poké balls. He'd buy a new one and register it properly. Just another reason to keep going through this.

The cyndaquil did not protest when he put his jacket back on and scooped up into his arms. When it had made itself comfortable, Gold resumed his trek through the eerily silent cave. The water around them was still, the air stale.

A gap in the cave's face. Light shone through. The cyndaquil began to squirm. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Cyndaquil exhumed a thick puff of smoke. Setting the pokémon down at his feet, it chirped. 

Gold shook his head.

"There could be something dangerous up ahead. What kind of trainer would I be if I put you in harm's way?"

Last time they'd battled, the same place at Indigo Plateau, Silver had mentioned the Battle Tower. The trainers who fought there told him about breeding and a pokémon's genetics. As they stood by the gate, a light fog curling over the grass, typhlosion and feraligatr were wrestling each other for a bit of Gold's RageCandyBar.

Silver rifled through the pockets of his old sports coat for a cigarette and lighter.

"A male pokémon can pass its moves down to its offspring. The pokémon that hatches will always be the same species as the female. So, if you were to breed your typhlosion with my houndoom, you'd get a cyndaquil that knows the move Reversal from the start."

Gold shrugged. "I'd trade you an egg for the houndoom."

Silver took a drag, exhaling. "Houndoom?" he reiterated, like he hadn't heard correctly.

"You don't want to?"

Silver scowled. "It's getting too old to battle."

"You've had that feraligatr a lot longer."

Silver's jaw twitched. "He's not for sale." He pushed himself off the wall, one hand going to his poké ball. He stifled a cough, and barked, "That's enough, Feraligatr!"

The feraligatr released its faux death-grip on typhlosion's throat and raised its head. With a huff, Silver recalled his pokémon. "I want to be sure Houndoom will be looked after. Not just sitting in the day-care or in a box."

"It's just for my 'dex," Gold muttered. "You can have her back."

Silver scowled. "I'm not interested in raising a pokémon that can't fight." He discarded the butt. Crushed it under his boot.

Gold bred a couple cyndaquil, offering each to Silver for appraisal. Silver only ever called if he wanted a match. Next time they talked, the same spot at the Indigo Plateau, Silver brusquely mentioned that he and cyndaquil were getting stronger, and that he was going to take a break to focus on training. Next time they crossed paths, it would be for a rematch.

Life as Champion didn't lend itself to small-talk, just a constant barrage of calls from his POKéGEAR. Televised interviews replaced by speculation on his whereabouts. There was no mountaintop on which to seek seclusion. The wild pokémon on Route 28 offered more of a challenge. Silver was the only trainer whose power was tantamount to his own.

The poké center was more like a hotel. Besides a state-of-the-art healing machine, the nurse stocked max repels and full heals. As he walked into the pokécenter, the nurse looked up with a small nod. "Going up the mountain?"

"Yes, ma'am."

He didn't ask if there were any rooms. There were always vacancies. "You know, you and Lance are the only trainers I see on a regular basis," the nurse said. "Apart from that boy." She forced a chuckle. "He used to come here and train, like you do. He'd tell me about how he lost the title of champion to his friend, so he was working for his grandfather. Of course, I'd tell him, there are other paths in life. This one just didn't work out for you." She shrugged. "Last I heard, he's a Gym Leader in Viridian now. His friend is still up on Mount Silver."

"Did you ever talk to him?" Gold asked, without thinking about it. The nurse didn't answer, turning instead to dust off the stock of full restores behind the counter. "I didn't mean to pry," Gold said. "I was just wondering what Red was like."

The nurse moved on to the hyper potions. "He didn't talk much. I just remember that he was young. Couldn't have been much older than you are now." She sighed, shook her head. "If he's still alive, the least he could do is leave a note for his mother."

Gold added, "I'll talk to him. If I see him up there."

In the tiny room, he checked his bag. Heavy winter clothes, a bivouac, lots of spare batteries and dry food. Once he stepped foot into the mountain, there wasn't any outside help. The wild pokémon were particularly vicious, having to adapt to the freezing climate. Lance told him once, in confidence, that sooner or later you'd trip over a trainer's forgotten poké ball or items. The pokémon inside couldn't live or die, trapped in a state of hibernation. Some of them had been there longer than Red.

Gold repacked for the next morning. He couldn't relax. Might as well practice his moves with typhlosion.

His POKéGEAR rang. The caller ID read Silver. Gold picked up.

"What's up?"

"Quilava and I are getting stronger."

"That's great. How's the training with Lance?"

"He's busy. Clair has her responsibilities in Blackthorn. Anyway, you shouldn't get complacent just because you're working for Oak."

Gold scoffed. "Are you my rival or my coach?" Silver wasn't saying anything. Gold tried a different angle, "The pokécenter on Route 28 has got spare rooms."

"They won't let me through the gate without sixteen badges."

"So tell them you're with me. The guys on duty don't really care. Nothing interesting ever happens out here."

A beat. Maybe Silver would lose patience and hang up, and he could toss around instead of sleeping.

"Tomorrow morning. I want to battle for old time's sake."

Gold said, "Can't do that. I'm about to go up the mountain."

A short scoff. "You need a chaperone?"

"I'll make time for you," Gold insisted. "Unless you want to come."

"I'm coming over now."

Gold scoffed. "What? This is serious, man, you can't just go up the mountain. You need to have the right gear."

"Not up the mountain. Just to battle." Another pause. "For old time's sake."

Gold exhaled. "Yeah, uh. That's fine."

He didn't bother clicking any buttons. Silver always hung up first. Gold put his shoes back on. Before he left, he made a quick stop by the PC to swap out houndoom for typhlosion.

The sunlight was somehow fainter than it should have been. The grass came up to his waist. Colors seemed washed out, subfusc. No wild pokémon rushed to greet him.

The poké center was close. He'd explain his situation to the nurse and figure something out.

Silver turned to the feraligatr at his side, nodded. The pokémon struck an imposing figure in the dead light.

Feraligatr were massive, fast moving and deadly even on land. It could do serious harm to him or any of his pokémon without much effort. Gold had a Houndoom that ignored orders. This could only end in failure. And then what? Did pokémon centers exist in this timeless void? Would he die alone and afraid?

"This won't fix anything," Gold said.

Silver's mouth thinned, shoulders set. Gold clicked open his only poké ball.

Houndoom eyed the feraligatr. Its head inclined forward, like it was sizing up its opponent. It snarled, fangs dripping with saliva. The feraligatr cowered, arms raised.

Feraligatr was a fast, vicious breed. Silver didn't give the order to attack but watched Gold intently.

Houndoom dug its fangs into the tough scales. Feraligatr groaned, barely moving at all. A plume of bluish fire erupted from Houndoom's muzzle. The feraligatr began to convulse.

Silver flinched.

"Stop!" Gold shouted. "That's enough!" He thrust his arm out, activating the poké ball. "Return!"

The light engulfed Houndoom. It wailed and the recoil shot up Gold's arm, freezing him in place. His skin tingled.

A shot pierced the heavy air. Houndoom yelped.

Two more shots. The feraligatr's jaws slackened. It slumped to the ground and didn't get up.

Silver lowered his arm, breathing shallowly. Acrid smell of gunpowder permeated the air. Colorless grass stained a deep red.

"It hates to take orders from me. Maybe it would be better off with you."

Silver lowered the gun. He didn't say another word, but his lower lip quivered. He swallowed, and turned to walk down the riverbank before disappearing into the space a poké center should've been.

Houndoom barked at the empty mouth of the cave.

"There's nothing there!" Gold exploded. He took a shaky breath that did not help his temper. "You've always been a fucking pain in the ass, it's no wonder Silver would give you away. You know why I boxed you? Because you wouldn't listen to me. You still don't listen to me! Every day, I wake up and try to convince myself that nothing would change. But now I think I was right. Typhlosion would be alive right now if you'd taken her place." His voice strained, faltering under the weight of something he couldn't take back. "Damn it, I didn't mean it. I just want to go home," he whispered. "I want to see my friends again."

The houndoom didn't respond. It was staring at him over its shoulder, awaiting further instructions.

Gold put his hands to his face. "I don't know what to do anymore." He took a shaky, gradual breath. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you want me to do."

Movement in his peripherals. Perched above the mouth of the cave. It opened its beak and crowed once, mournfully. Houndoom wailed. Gold's legs wouldn't move. It spread its ashen wings and swooped down, extending its talons. Gold couldn't even make a sound. He raised his arms in front of his face.

The bird swooped over them, circling back over the empty horizon to alight on the grass. It lowered one wing, and Gold recalled his pokémon. He clambered onto its back, holding onto his cap as they took off. Soaring above Johto. Its plumage, slippery, reeked of ash and smoke.

Touching down in Goldenrod City, he felt an emptiness in his chest.

The streets were unnaturally silent, aside from the gentle de-tuned whine coming from his POKéGEAR. The longer he walked he felt the prickle of eyes on him, but no sign of activity. Only the windows in the poké center were lit. Breaking into a choppy sprint, he crossed through the doors, walked up to the nurse.

"Good evening," she said, giving him a second glance. "Would you like to heal your pokémon?" Gold nodded, wordlessly unclipping the poké ball from his belt. "Wait here."

She walked over the machine. Gold made an effort to get his bearings. The same posters on the walls. Trainers he'd never seen before. None of them were from New Bark.

"Here's your pokémon back."

Gold tore his eyes away. "Thank you very much." He clipped the ball onto his belt, and hesitated. "On the radio, have you heard of any trainers who came from New Bark Town?"

The nurse paused. "I don't think so. Are you looking for someone?"

Gold pulled out his trainer card from his pocket. "You checked me in, at the center on Route 28. Your sister works in Olivine. We talked about the previous champion of the Indigo League. I promised that I'd talk to him. He's off the mountain. If you see his mother," he took a breath, "tell him her son is alive."

The nurse glanced slowly from the card to him. She had gone pale. "I'm sorry. I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

Gold glanced at the posters. He put the card back in his wallet. No matter how desperately he insisted, there was no convincing her without causing a scene. "You looked like someone I know." He swallowed dryly. "Sorry to bother you at this hour."

He stepped outside, calling on houndoom. "I shouldn't have treated you the way I did," he said. He looked at the darkened windows for a sign of movement. "All I've done is blame you for my own shortcomings. You deserve a better trainer." A light chill caused him to shudder. "I'll let you lead the way."

Through the checkpoint towards Route 35, there wasn't anyone stationed behind the counter. Gold went ahead and stopped, mid-stride. "This isn't right." The forest path wasn't Route 35. A thick blanket of leaves decaying at his feet. The smell of decomposing flora hung in the air. The sun's rays limned through the gaps in the leaves in hues of crimson.

Houndoom came to a stop, attention drawn towards something Gold couldn't see.

"What's wrong?"

Crunching of leaves underfoot. A boy's white and gold cap through the grey foliage and disappeared.

Gold called out, "Hey!" He gave chase. He didn't see the boy anywhere.

The old entryway to Tin Tower. Gold stepped through. A shadow passed over the room. He spun around. Where a door should have been, there was old, damp redwood. Grain kissed his palms. He threw himself against it to no avail. 

"Welcome back."

Gold whirled around with a cry. Silver leant against the pillar. One hand in his pocket. "Why are you here? Did the unown take you?"

Silver averted his eyes. The houndoom growled, teeth dripping with saliva. Silver didn't flinch.

"There's a way out of this," he said at length. "You just haven't found it yet."

His eyes returned to Gold's face. His usual stoicism seemed to falter. That wasn't like Silver at all. "I don't have time for this," Gold snapped. "Just give me a straight answer, or get out of my way."

Silver tensed. In the low light, the shadows seemed to coalesce around the ceiling. Giving way to an impossible volume of unown, their eyes blinking, glancing around. The darkness itself seemed to swell of its own volition.

Silver's expression faltered into naked guilt.

"I'm sorry," he croaked.

Gold had never heard him talk like that before.

"Silver?"

The unown covered the walls, coursing down the pillar. Silver opened his mouth to speak but was subsumed. Gold's cry was swallowed up by the darkness. The unown had no true solidity to them, but he couldn't move his limbs no matter how desperately he struggled.

Wait.

A resonant voice, clear as a bell, broke through the cacophony. The unown scattered, melting into the walls and pillar. Houndoom was gone.

A shape fluttered down towards him from the empty void above. Gold's breath caught in his throat. The celebi hovered a foot above him, its pink skin translucent like the petals of a flower. One green eye luminous and sorrowful. Half of its tiny body was burnt beyond recognition. The muscle and bones blackened. He could almost taste the rot.

It made a revolution around the pillar, then chirped at him. Gold swallowed. He walked over and reached out with trembling fingers.

The moment he made contact, the tower's wooden interior melted away. Blades of grass sprouting under his feet. The quiet burble of the river, the whisper of the breeze through leaves. The sky obscured through thick foliage.

His stomach twisted, on reflex. He swallowed down the urge to retch. His legs wouldn't hold him, and he collapsed. Grass scratched at his bare skin. Eye-to-eye with a small wooden shrine. Under its eaves, the twin doors were ajar. A single poké ball, white and gold, offered up to the forest's protector. There was no ID, just an etching above the button. Two letters.

"Wh-what is that? I've never seen one before. It looks a lot like a poké ball, but it appears to be something else. Let me check it for you."

He felt for the poké ball on his belt. Clicked it open, and in a flash of red light stood his old friend. A plume of smoke emitted from her shoulders.

Gold couldn't stop trembling. Suddenly, he choked out a sob. Each breath, he took in real air, the stench of grass and mud and fur, not some paradox of his memories. 

"I'm home," he whispered, "I'm finally home. We're alive."

As he gathered his composure, scratching the side of Typhlosion's head, the first thing he was going to do was call his mother. A dead-end. He circled back towards the maze. There was no other path. As he returned to the shrine, Celebi was sitting on the roof. Its eyes—whole and blue—were impassive.

"This is over," he said. "I did whatever I was supposed to do. I'm back now, and I'm going to—"

Inexorable stabbing sensation behind his temples. Series of images flickering behind his eyelids in smooth succession. The tarnished celebi and the red pillar. Ilex Forest, ablaze. Sensation of fire licking at his skin, the curling flesh blackened. The pain abated as quickly as it had come. Gold, on hands and knees in the grass, retched a little but couldn't make himself throw up.

Typhlosion snarled. The embers on its back flared.

"It's all right," Gold panted. "Celebi isn't an enemy." He forced himself to his feet, tense. He wiped his sweaty face with the butt of his palm. "So, you know future sight," he said. "What else can you do?"

It chirped again, brusquely.

His mood soured. "I know," he grumbled. "I know where I'm supposed to go." He shouldered his bag, still heavy with an unhatched egg. "We should get moving. We're already late. I want to drop this off at the poké center in Goldenrod before we go."

END ACT II

a/n: It has been ten years since I updated this bad boy. (Technically a little longer since I posted the first rough chapter/prologue on Deviantart back in 2012.) Given the abstract nature of the original creepypasta, this fic's plot has deviated for the sake of maintaining a narrative. It also takes a few cues from the Lost Silver: Hidden hack by Reidd Maxwell. In the Japanese version of Pokémon Crystal, a researcher in the Ruins of Alph states "According to my research... Those mysterious patterns appeared when the Pokécom Center was built. It must mean that radio waves have some sort of a link...", indicating that the Unown's appearance in said ruins are influenced by Goldenrod City's Pokémon Communication Center.

#lost silver #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3

[neverchecking]

Imagine

The baby reader biological parents be asking the chain that did try talk too give out information but warrior can tell that those parents are hidding something since the information they give out are not the right ones like place were the baby was last seen. So warrior quick to give a look to the chain that * those are not the baby parents* look. but the onlookers that did see the baby be hunting down wild,sage since the two have the baby.

Sage would bite his tongue in order not to curse seeing a few people follow them out of town and he'll hand wild the baby and whispered in his ear.

Sage whispered: go in the woods and hide with my baby, stay hidden we're been followed.

Wild nod and once sage at a range were their not close to the town yet not too far off is when sage turn around and whip out his weapon to fight the people as wild springing into the woods with the baby coo confused in his arms to hide and a few people that did escape sage goes after wild and the baby.

Sage: ya ain't taken my baby!

While wild running and avoiding the people the best of his abilities ever so far as use his shikiah stale to block the people path to get him.

Wild: stay away from my baby!

Baby reader giggles thinking this is a game but really it isn't.

-curious anon

Curious anon!

It's a town conspiracy. Maybe Reader is some missing nobles kid that the town is using for ransom or sum.

Your so right that Sage would notice them first, mans notices everything. I also think that, while he'd like to be the one with baby. he probably gives them to Wild. He doesn't trust Wild to take out all the measly little pests, but he does...admittedly and begrudgingly trust him enough to make a run for it.

READER JUST LAUGHING AWAY FREAKING KILLS ME KID HAS NO CLUE WHATS GOING ON-

#cinder rambles #curious anon

[todderwodders]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Enver visits a special brothel

This place seems intent on never making sense to him. Each visit seems to vex him, turn him around in the winding halls and corridors of this sprawling once-estate. He passes by rooms shaped to look like ancient baths, the waters green with dye and perfume and the grime of bodies. He passes by sprawling rooms he knows for a fact were once two smaller spaces merged into one, shaped and forced to look grand in the old way of the Gate.

He passes by smaller parlors, with hookahs and rugs and pillows and billowing drapes that lead to color gardens and smooth, silkily dressed girls and boys. He has been in some of them, spending hours dining with the girl or smoking to his heart’s content, eyes fixed on a spotty, pink ridged horizon over high walls and carefully kept trees and flowering bushes. He is led, as he always is, by a slight boy of ten, his ears bearing the gentle point of watered down elven heritage, right past the familiar, up and up one set of stairs that curve dangerously into narrow passages, natural choke points where the light is poor and the steps harrowingly narrow. This is where he can remember that this place used to have some kind of pragmatism, and still does - servant steps. He feels his lips press together, head turning to a muffled cluster laughter that could almost be who he is looking for.

“Boy—“

“It is the right way, sir,” he says gently, calmly. It is almost in the same affect as the girl’s voice, save for the fact that his voice crackles with puberty. “Patience, please.”

The boy is not as charming as the girl. He raises a hand, just slightly, and the boy does not flinch, does not even blink as he smiles at him, the warm, almost amber brown of his eyes setting his stomach to churning. “Please?”

He slides his hand over his coat, thumbs a button open. “Walk.”

The boy leads him down another passage, now grander and almost akin to the ground floor holding the line of bath rooms and pleasure parlors. Rugs are thick and imported, tastefully worn down but on the verge of being trashed should they be neglected for another few years. The walls are bare, stained windows flooding the place with wild color and heats Enver, in his thick autumn coat, up almost instantly. He smells the thick scent of frankincense and sage, crisp and heady and almost nauseating. He passes by doors, painted in jewel tones, golden filigree shifting and merging in different geometric patterns. Somewhere, perhaps by magic, perhaps by a carefully hidden bard, a lyre is strummed in a lazy haze.

The boy arrives to a door painted cornflower blue. There is a small knot of pink beads tied around the handle, and the boy unwinds it with a practiced motion, winding the stones around his hand and brushing them over the knob before a lock clicks open and the door swings open. Enver arches an eyebrow, wondering how expensive that trick was, and how someone such as Fredi, with her expensive rings and fat earrings that glitter as genuine stone in the light, would find the time to pay for such things.

He thinks of her tacky red lips, painted too bright to be fashionable. He thinks of how the door is painted the wrong hue to match the girl, and how the filigree seems to shudder, like a cog grinding against its brother, as the door swings open.

“My mistress will be arriving shortly, sir. There is wine in the decanter, fruits selected in consideration of your noted preferences, and your brand in the small box on the table,” the boy says, bowing lightly as he names the amenities off. The boy must be the girl’s understudy of sorts.

Enver steps into the room. It is bathed in the semi dark of many, but not enough candles, their white bodies hidden behind colored glass orbs hanging from the ceiling at uneven intervals. The windows are high, probably original to the very first sections of the home, when the Gate was just a fishing village. A bench sits in the middle of the room, rounded and heavily padded, almost simple. It is surrounded by pillows and mattresses, a thin table meant for ease of access next to it, hosting his fruit and wine and even a loaf of bread, along with tapered, stoppered beakers and a small, ornate box that must contain his cigars. He spots at least one of the sources of the incense that reek in the hallway in the shape of the silver stand that holds the delicate sticks.

“Good - do not let your mistress make me wait, or—“ He turns, the boy’s face losing it’s soft sensuality from earlier and instead being met with the flat, unamused look of his mistress in miniature.

“Yes, milord,” he says, before shutting the door with more force than his little body should be able to muster.

#wip #wip wednesday #enver gortash #my writing

[quitealotofsodapop]

what is master subodhi like in the TMKATI Au?

Ok this is a tough one to answer since what we have seen of Subodhi in the show was of him in the Scroll of Memory acting as a tough teacher to the gang.

My idea for Subodhi is that he's a harsh teacher for a Big reason. Once someone learns the daoist Secret to immortality, that person is almost guranteed to get Smited by the gods on the regular. So he has to mame sure his students stay humble and that they understand the risks of his teachings.

Heres the @journeytothewestresearch article on what Subodhi's diciple teachings entailed.

Subodhi didnt expect to become the father figure to a weird little monkey demon seeking guidance. And he also didnt expect that the monkey would be so good at it.

Wukong has to be taught to read and write like a small child. The older diciples help in that area, though the old Sage finds himself smiling when the monkey runs up to him; beaming about how he finally found out how to draw his name!

Not to mention easily the demon took to the study of medicines and war tactics. His mind was wild but maleable, able to absorb anything he set it to.

Subodhi cant deny that the little chaotic monkey is his favorite of the bunch....

But then Wukong became unsatisfied and flagrant with what Subodhi taught him, showing off to the younger students who didnt understand the risks of such magic. So the sage had to reprimand him.

Him and Wukong had a verbal altercation. It ended with Wukong's teachings being suspended indefinitely. Wukong flew off and declared himself a sage "Equalling Heaven!". Subodhi sighed. He just hoped that his student found his place someday.

Subodhi is also a very knowing sage. He's ultimately the one who set Wukong down the path to protect Tripitaka in the future.

But he has his regrets.

Could he have contacted his student after so long? Yes, but he's a very busy man. Young mortals and demons (he's opened the enrollment opportunities in the last few centuries) still need his guidance.

One day while mediatating, he feels a... shift in the cosmic order. Calmly, he projects himself to Lao Tzu the alchemist, and tells him to look to the stars above for a wandering star.

Subodhi awaits his "legacy student" with hidden joy.

#the monkey king and the infant au #the monkey king and the infant #lmk master subodhi #sun wukong

[sonicasura]

I just finished watching the LoZ Adventures of Link, the sequel to first game in the series. This takes place a few years after the last game's events. Like I did in the last post, here are observations beginning with the areas.

The towns are named after the sages from Ocarina of Time. One town, Kasuto, was however overrun with monsters so the townsfolk built a new completely hidden.

The area Link begins at in the first game was just a tiny chunk of Hyrule itself. Mostly vast wilderness similar to Breath of the Wild and crawling with many different monsters. Including a Water Devil.

There are two Zeldas, the one from the first game and Ocarina of Time(?). OoT one was put into a magical sleep henceforth leading to every born princess be given her name.

Actual extra lives in this game taking the form of little Link dolls. Some scattered about in hidden places throughout the overworld and even dungeons.

Monsters and followers of Ganon now disguise themselves as people in towns. Talking to the wrong person will end with being attacked.

Swordsmen, healers and mages can now be found. Each providing different services like new attacks, spells or healing.

Fairies no longer appear from defeating monsters and are now found more freely in the overworld. Some offer to heal you even in dungeons than just hidden Fairy Fountains.

Obtaining the Triforce of Courage is an actual trial. Sealed safely away when Hyrule fell and guarded by a Thunderbird alongside Dark Link. The Six Palaces were merely the key to unlocking this trial.

There's a spell that allows one to become a fairy. It requires a special word though.

Now for Link or Hyrule in the Linked Universe fandom.

Was taught all his magic and sword techniques by mages alongside warriors. Spells include: Shield (block physical damage), Jump, Reflect (bounce back or deflect magic. Required to defeat Wizzrobes which are immune to everything but their own magic), Life, Fire (shoot fire from his sword), Thunder, Reveal, and Fairy (can fit through keyholes).

Has a cross that can reveal hidden monsters, boots that can walk on water, gloves that can break rocks, a magic key which unlocks any lock, and a hammer capable of shattering boulders.

Performed various different quests than just heading to the Six Palaces. This ranges from saving a kidnapped child, delivering medicine for a very ill villager to giving water to someone(who wasn't that far from the town's fountain).

Traveled across forests, coasts, mountains including volcanic ones, seas, swamps and even deserts. Also an entire dungeon that couldn't be broken into without the Magic Key.

Defeated his shadow and acquired all pieces of the Triforce. The only Link who has done this.

Now this is more speculation or just me but that Dark Link felt off. Like the boss is well known for being the toughest throughout the entire series yet, the shadow's capabilities didn't match Hyrule. It was too... Ocarina of Time when it came to sword skill.

Fierce, fast and heavy blows that leave barely any time to dodge or even block. Not like the Link you play as whose attacks are decently fast but are more focused on precision since magic can empower the sword.

The Triforce of Courage was sealed yet no one knows exactly who done it. Plus timeline wise, OoT Link fought his shadow as a trial too. Every attack from Adventure!Dark Link is too similar to that very boss in Ocarina.

Could this shadow belong to OoT(Time/Mask in Linked Universe terms) instead of Hyrule? Considering the Hero's Spirit reincarnates maybe their shadow can too? Or possibly attach itself to the next incarnation?

That's all I have for now! Like before, this knowledge came from watching a playthrough by HCBailley! I'll be checking out Link to the Past next. Until next time folks, I'll see you back in Hyrule!

#legend of zelda #loz #linked universe #loz link #legend of zelda link #linked universe related #loz 2 #legend of zelda adventures of link #loz adventures of link #legend of zelda two #lu hyrule #linked universe hyrule #sonicasura #personal opinion #dark link #shadow link