#seas of calamity au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gladiatorcunt · 2 months ago

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- DO LEVIATHANS DREAM OF ALIENS? | 1a.

this is a low flying panic attack (cybersex is holy)

cw: kinktober prompt (aliens made them do it - bc he asked them too), nonconsensual voyeurism, extreme dubcon, yandere jacaerys, reader has a pussy, 4.6k of porn with plot, getting your back blown out in the 2001: a space odyssey trip scene, inspired by the mentioned movie, old valyria lore and obvious au where the valyrian gods are aliens, restraints, stray mpreg mention at the beginning, world building before the fucking, pussy slapping, piss kink mention

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

2 BC, Gaelithox Star System inhabitant number 616. Subject Name: Earth (Human Outreach Base)

In the wake of doom, the world smoldered. Every realm, known and unknown, was reduced to scalding ash. Except for a volcanic island guarding the entrance to Blackwater Bay by the name of Dragonstone. A century later in his eternal wisdom, Lord Aerion Targaryen set his three children, Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys to take to their dragons and scour the vast emptiness for a miracle. In another universe, there were countless bounties to acquire and lush land to conquer, gilded crowns to pass on to the heirs shared between them. However, this was not to be. Visenya’s sharp eyes spotted gigantic chunks of metal in the narrow sea that resembled castles. One was as black as her brother’s dragon’s, Balerion, scales and as all encompassing as the volcano Valyria’s capital city was built in. The other, a muddier brick red with specks of green and even bigger than the former. She shouted to her siblings, pointing and informing them that she was going to land Vhagar on one of them. Rhaenys and Meraxes followed quickly after her, then Aegon and Balerion.

The violent winds assaulted their skin as they dove down, their blood rushed to their hands and caused a pounding sensation in their ears. It felt akin to a leap of faith, they were lighting a match and tossing it onto a pile of Godswood. Blasphemous and crazed. When flayed open, Targaryens are revealed to be plundering leeches with flaming branches for veins. Birthed from white fire, they are harbingers of calamity and tragedy, some say the heat slowly singes their bones and then their brain until they die. Ripping through an ill-omened husk that wails tears of blood and exhales soot.

All three dragons hissed as their claws kissed the unfamiliar material. It was only for a moment, and strangely they titled their heads up and roared into the skies in unison, a jubilant chorus as if they were connecting with the truest parts of themselves. Visenya and her siblings watched in confusion until they were done. Then their focus shifted to the ginormous metal ovals beneath their feet, Visenya and Rhaenys were on the smaller one while Aegon was on the largest of the two. He walked along the cool surface and stopped at what appeared to be a window of sorts, an opening into the inner workings of the beguiling monolith. Before he could consult with his sisters, he tossed them a self assured grin, pulled open the hatch, and jumped boot clad feet first through it.

When he landed with a harsh grunt and the feeling of his bones being briefly jostled, he discovers that the inside closely resembles the innards of a ship. Unlike the traditional boats that traverse on water with their sails made of flax and their hard wooden bodies, this one seemed to be purely metal. Sleek and shiny, light coming from the opening bounced off of his sword as he used it to gain a feel for his surroundings. It was just as massive on the inside, he had the thought that you could very well fit every major family of Old Valyria in there along with their dragons. Though he did not mind being part of the only ones who could benefit from it, perhaps it was the gods' choice to allow only them to survive.

There were many flashy brightly colored knobs, and Aegon felt out of his depth at the sheer amount of them. A command center maybe, a gravelly voice inside him whispered, controls the entire ship and every single facet of it. He would have to explore this specific mechanism further with Visenya, his eyes wandered elsewhere down the hall to his left. The shadows beckoned him forward, and forward he went.

As he explored the ship, Aegon mentally noted the presence of personal quarters, kitchens, places in which one could conduct work, and all the things one would essentially need to live a happy life. It bore familiar cornerstones of Valyrian architecture, winding spiral spires and exquisite detailing. There was even its very own dragon pit resembling the Bojurlion arena that once sat parallel to the palace in the civic center of Valyria, stables and all sorts of riding equipment and armor included. He strongly felt that such a thing surely proved that this was the miracle his Lord father had sent him to find, from the teats of the gods and into the lap of their chosen one. They must have delivered them a shelter and a way to blaze their trail anew, this time the flip of the coin was in the Targaryens’ favor.

To the Targaryens in the long gone days of Old Valyria, survival was a choice when you were doomed to be the middle of the pack, never soaring higher or lower than where the gods put you.

He climbed through the same opening hours later, eager to catch up with his sisters. It turns out that they had an adventure of their own, their ship was similar to the one Aegon had explored, though they described it as having a much lighter energy and a deceptively cozier atmosphere. The three siblings climbed aboard their dragons and took to the skies once more, carrying hope and fierce determination in their hearts. Lord Aerion was relieved to hear of the gods’ saving grace, and in no time at all, their belongings, dragons, and servants were all ushered into either of the two ships after numerous exhaustive back and forth journeys. Remnants of Old Valyria, maesters, descendants of blood mages from the Anogorian, workers from the bathhouses, soldiers who served in the Valyrian navy, and even merchants from the street markets.

It was quite the shock when the ships shook terribly as soon as their doors closed, and gasps wrung out when the main area was flooded with white light as the vessels rose into the heavens and beyond them.

Soon both ships teemed with life, Honorary Queens Rhaenys and Visenya were wed in Dragonstone’s church. They even had biological children with the help of maesters and the ship’s wildly advanced scientific center. A miraculous device allowed their DNA to mix together and be planted in Rhaenys’ womb, with no need for a man’s contribution. Two sons were born, Maegor and Aenys. On The Red Keep, King Aegon found love with the son of a blood mage newly finished with his apprenticeship, and soon they too were wed and bore heirs of their own. Three daughters, one named after Aegon’s first love, a Baratheon. As the centuries went by, these communities in space grew much like they would have on the ground, however they do dock on Dragonstone island occasionally. It was agreed that life would be better spent among the stars than battling to live to see the next day in the dirt. They took all their human ways with them though, buried under their jewels and extravagant lifestyles, their hierarchy and ruling class and debatable penchant for fire and blood.

124 AC, Gaelithox Star System inhabitant number 460. Subject Name: Valyrian Peninsula Cluster (Interior Quadrant)

It is said that The Red Keep eclipses the Earth’s sun but Dragonstone intimidates it, depicted as having a presence so foreboding that any celestial body dims when the insidious ship passes them by.

Hopeful Would-Be-Prince Jacaerys kneels before a marble statue of the Mother.

“There is something very wrong with me, Mother.” His shake, an icy chill floods through his veins in the lukewarm temperature controlled chapel. “A sickness… a hunger… today I nearly bent my servant over while they drew my bath and tongued their cunt, I do not know if their resistance would have stopped me.”

Their tears would have looked transcendent in the reflection of the steaming hot water.

The statue’s eyes glow and emit a monotone beeping sound, standard routine for every prayer and confession.

The usually pleasant and well mannered prince frets, chewing at his fingernail in thought. Artificial breeding is all too available an option, these days one merely has to go to a maester and undergo the procedure, creating almost spontaneous life from the DNA one already possesses. Such things do wonders for couples with incompatible reproductive organs and those that want to be parents on their own, but it’s not enough for Jacaerys.

You could still be distant. There is no corner of the ship where you are free from his reach, but the prince would very much prefer it if you did not feel the need to scurry off at all. He thinks of himself as a wondrously different young man in comparison to his uncles and stepfather, Jacaerys loves you like a dragon loves a sleep. Helpless to the fear of being devoured by his hunger, but he’d keep you and roll you into a cotton ball in his mouth, savoring the pristine hairs left behind in the grooves of his forked tongue.

Wrestling you and bringing your body to the maesters, watching as they plant his child in your womb, would be meaningless to him. He wants to say he’d conceived your children in your marriage bed, as his family had done for generations before him. The advancements in technology had caused a decline in the tradition’s popularity, and that is precisely why Jacaerys wishes they had never set foot for the stars. You’d be more capable of succumbing to him if you were made to endure the pleasure he knows you could feel, without the miracle procedure. You have not yet mentioned a desire to carry children, not that that topic typically is shared between a servant and their liege.

The population on the ship is declining, the Targryens not producing the numbers they have in the past and various deaths in the family and amongst the smallfolk being a couple of the reasons. Madness from a lifetime of staring out floor to ceiling to wall windows of the same sparkly abyss, the traditionalists who spurn the technological wonders of the gods and grapple with complications in childbirth, the murders brought on by cabin fever. Unfortunate events have given Jacaerys the answer, the gift of a perfect reason to have you. To indulge in the murky facets of his soul, nursing from your bitter burning cup of wine and you in turn his.

If he were to be so goddamn lucky as to be in the same room as you, you would stumble out of there with a tummy full of triplets and a bounty of stretch marks.

“I would give all I am and have to be a loving husband, a dutiful father, if you would see it fit for that to be my path.” He bows his head and brown curls cascade around his face, an angel in the mouth of the guillotine. “At least cure me of this ailment if not, I can hardly stand the teasing from my uncles when I lose focus during the training simulations.”

Nightmares are becoming dreams in my darkest hours.

“My deepest thanks for hearing my prayer, I… I apologize, it is rather foolish I admit. I am not sure what’s come over me.”

The statue's eyes dim and it whirs as it powers down upon the prince’s exit. A most trouble occurence for one of their very own, but once this message is approved and received, the Gods will know the apt solution. Dragon eggs are their own star systems too, the cracks betwixt specks of color in the scales their own constellations, and the men born from them are the apples of the gods’ chromatic rainbow eyes.

A ghostly roar nips at Jacaerys’ heels as he strides towards his chambers, kicking off and throttling the silver pipes.

“For what it is worth, I am of the opinion that your brown hair and brown eyes suit you. Being around your family is no different than going for a stroll in the snow, but you stand out as the tree of solace in the middle. Sturdy and warm in its own way, something you rest on when you grow weary of the world around you.”

Your widening eyes are the first things he sees when he next wakes up. Jacaerys is content to consider this a dream until he moves to brush some of his hair away from his face and is stopped by a harsh clang.

The universe is howling.

He looks down to see valyrian steel chains dragging on the floor attached to cuffs around his wrists. The chains are of considerable length, he imagines that he could walk around the entire room and never get the bindings to go tight. His cuffs are so loose they hardly serve their purpose at all, but his flesh stings when he attempts to touch them. They would likely singe his skin off to the bone if he was their true prisoner and resisted. You have similar ones, but as soon as Jacaerys relaxes his chains vanish and he sits up to take stock of the room you are being held in.

Something sort of like an atrium, gleaming metallic tones with high ceilings and a large divot in the floor where the bed you both are on stands. Tall pillars showcase scrolling led screens, high valyrian scrawlings are preserved and repeated in scarlet pixels. The walls are replaced by windows into the vast openness of space, but it is different from what Jacaerys is used to. Outside is a sea of pure black, neon colors make up the waves, they seem to continuously bleed and fold into each other at the midpoint. There are no stars, no planets, but if Jacaerys squints and pays close attention he can just about make out the heavy flap of leathery wings.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright.” The prince whispers, turning his focus to your panic and stroking a finger down your cheek. “If we were supposed to be dead, we would not even be having this conversation.”

“The princeling is correct. You are safe in *indistinguishable*, this designated facility, our audience chamber, so long as you comply with us and our own.” A chorus of deep and crackling voices boom all at once in both of your minds, their syllables and inflections in their speech overlapping and melding together. “We have heard his prayers for your companionship and have decided to grant Jacaerys Velaryon his heart’s deepest desire. For he has raised valid concerns, this blessing is a multi purpose one.”

“Think of it as a bedding ceremony, and all that that name implies. Once conception is confirmed, you will face the brunt of a painful headache as we leave you. When you stumble into slumber, whether wrapped in an embrace or seperate, vessel number *indistinguishable* Dragonstone will house you once more.”

You gasp as the voices go quiet, and Jacaerys knows you must be aware of the feeling of being watched. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and gives you goosebumps down your forearms. Goose-pimpled flesh that Jacaerys traces with his fingertips, it’s the least he can do to give you a moment to calm down and get your bearings. Perhaps this is a sign that he has gone truly mad, because he can’t find the same trepidation in your expression within himself.

How often do prayers get answered? Yes, having a swarm of otherworldly all knowing beings witness your love making is quite unusual, but there is nothing Jacaerys would not put up with to form an everlasting covenant with you and your body. So he lays beside you, watching the fabric of your uniform shift and swish as you stretch your legs, a bumbling baby deer finding its footing.

He would smile and laugh, because he’d truly believe no one had ever been happier in their lives than he, but you probably would not take it all that well.

You shut your eyes tightly, either coming to grips with the bizarre reality you now found yourself in or desperately clinging to the hope that this was all a dream brought on by contaminated rations.

“M-my prince… this is not how i envisioned this moment.” You murmur at last, your eyes opening to meet his.

He wonders what you mean by that, could you really have wanted him in all the ways he has wanted you? Surely not all of them, but in the most basic and carnal of them.

Suddenly he knows in his bones that is what the two of you are meant to do, that this is so impossibly right that it must be woven in the grand fabric of fate’s design.

Jacaerys tuts and extends an offering of peace, entertaining his fingers with yours, “I’ll be gentle, this is my first time as well. It was not like I could practice without you finding out about it, I did not wish to hurt your feelings.”

Your brows pinch as he speaks, an instinctive coo gets trapped and tangled in his vocal chords. That expression is precisely why he is glad to be relying on scandalous hologram demonstrations and enticingly hedonistic data scrolls, amusingly numerous and often exuberantly descriptive. His confidence is triple what it was once years past, and Jacaerys would dearly love to lead you by example.

Fake it till you make it, but he is cocky enough now to believe you will never have to pretend in the first place.

A lock must have opened inside you, an opening made ready for him, because your brow lines smooth out and you go lax on the bed spread. You blink up at him as if trying to eat your nerves with your eyes by overindulging on the sight of him. Your face must be hot to the touch, as brave of a front as you’re putting on, you are not immune to embarrassment or fraying nerves.

Jacaerys sharply inhales and takes the tentative first step, settling a hand at the top of your chest and dragging it downward. His fingers catch on the buttons in your bodice and he undoes them with only a couple minor fumbles here and there.

“Ah.” The prince groans, peeling back the black panels in your uniform to uncover the skin beneath. “These breasts are wasted on servant rags, they’re so beautiful. You’re so very beautiful, my love.”

Your teats are round and perky things, so over encumbered with themselves that your flesh pushes out in between his fingers as he squeezes them softly. You softly moan and recline even further on the bed, as much as you are able with the chains still holding onto you. Jacaerys chuckles and lifts each one as if here debating on which decorative jeweled necklace weighed more, the rubies or the emeralds.

“Thank you, my prin- Jacaerys.” You sigh, never forgetting your well taught manners, and then gasp, “Wait, do not just grope them like that- Gods-“

Upon further investigation, the ruby, your right breast, is marginally heavier and bigger, but Jacaerys refuses to have favorites so resolves to love the emerald just as much. He rolls them in his palms for a bit before departing with a loving pat to your nipples.

His palms softly fall to bracket either side of your head, caging you in. “Now come, grant me a kiss, your nerves will fade with practice. What is there to be afraid of?”

His voice grows shakier than he’d like it too, a genuine hint of uncertainty shining through. In this he knows, at least, that it would do you a world of good to take your own leaps of faith. It would have been cruel to ask you such a thing when he had been sitting farther away, but now he is oh so close, the tips of your noses brush against each other is a shy sort of kiss.

Your eyes flick down to his lips and before he can say anything else, you’re leaning forward as much as you can and pressing against them. Jacaerys is pleased that his earlier assertion of your temperament was correct and turns his head, deepening the kiss and slotting his lips in the empty spaces left by your own as they part.

He laughs when the kiss is broken, airy and on the wings of a more formidable beast than love. The beings watching must already be impatient, for when he presses his chest further into yours, he notices a sudden lack of clothes. As if the Gods had grown tired of waiting for you to undress each other properly, not that Jacaerys minds all that much.

The prince snakes a hand in between your bare bodies, slipping down to cup your mound. He sweeps you up in another kiss so as to not afford you the opportunity to shy away when his digits sink into your slick.

“This cunt is overflowing, is this where it feels best? My thumb is right on your pearl just. like. this.” He teases and sketches tight circles on your bud, shifting his body weight to keep you down when you kick out your legs reflexively.

You keen into his open mouth, a high pitched bottle rocket about to go off and explode into bursts of bright color “Yes! Jace, just like that, don’t stop, oh my Gods- I’m so wet, how am i so wet?”

You ask him about your own body like you’re genuinely bewildered and Jacaerys is so charmed, so in love. He wouldn't peg you as the type to go a long while without slithering your hands up your skirt and delivering an unsatisfying orgasm, this much liquid must be drowning you. He takes his sweet time, flicking and playing your pearl in an obsessive fashion, taking your plush breasts into his mouth as his tongue lavishes them in saliva.

You’re making such melodic sounds, one of the songbirds must have escaped from the automated menagerie and fluttered their wings into his arms. Pinks and oranges and greens and purples and oranges spill across the void in his peripheral vision, but this bastardized marriage bed is the only thing Jacaerys cares about. It doesn’t matter that there is no sound save for the squelch of his fingers in your cunt and his rose petal pink lips popping off your tits repeatedly.

Jacaerys has seen many moons during the ship’s travels through the vastness of space, but the way your hips are arching off the bed in search of more of his touch would make any one of them bleed red in embarrassment.

Amused, he teases you now, slowing down his concentric circles into loose ringlets. “So this is not enough?”

“Jacaerys, please- You know it’s not.” You glare but still grind your hips up into his hand, not even bothering to address him by his title, he’ll let it slide in this instance.

He dips down to press a few last kisses to your breasts, nipping at your pebbled nipples and sliding a finger into your cunt. He crooks his fingers, going at a leisurely pace and waiting until you’re near tears to insert a second.

“Mmh, who knew i’d come by such a hungry cunny, almost carnivorous in its attempts to keep me inside its snatch.” Jacaerys grins and pumps his fingers, going faster as he slips a third and then a fourth one in, feeling how your walls cling onto their shape.

You’re like a leech, suckling at his flesh to the point of blood loss.

“ ‘m not…… don’t talk about it like that. Fuck, yes- Jace- take what’s yours already, i’m burning up.”

He kisses you again and abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, slapping your clit in one heavy strike. For all his efforts of taking things slow and keeping the atmosphere gentle and loving, you inspire such a deep teasing streak in him. He could never seriously hurt you, but quick smacks resulting in your eyes flashing with lightning aren’t off the table.

You whimper, wetting yourself under the heel of his palm. The intense colors around you swirl into a psychedelic kaleidoscope pattern, rhythmic beeping comes from the pillars and the atrium seems to hold its breath. You don’t notice when your mind begins to unravel, babbling about needing it being too much and you need to pee. Because there’s a drop of shame that your intuition injects in you, something more than being on the brink of a climax.

“You’re so sensitive, my love, did the slaps make it worse?.” He coos, serving you slap after slap after slap, nothing worse than what would make his hand and your mound sizzle. “Good, you can piss if you need to, there is nothing to be embarrassed about with me.”

You’re so cute, he could never understand how people could stand marrying for anything other than love. The worry that his heart will expand too quickly and splatter around the rungs of his ribcage, that you feel when you lay with someone you love, is a sensation he would slay his kin for. He is aware of its luxury, that he is lucky to experience it at all during his life on the spaceship he will live and die in. He sends a brisk thank you to his ancestors for taking yours with them when they departed and took flight from Earth, the beauty of your swollen tits and stomach will honor them.

And oh, how he wants to make you come on his tongue and around his fingers and every other way possible. In the depths of his soul, Jacaerys wants you to feel as if you were falling from a very high tower, a royal with no choice but to fall skull first into the great nothingness of the beyond. The fragments would adorn the cobblestone just like how your tears frame your lashes.

No, the first time you shatter and crumble to nothing will be around his cock. Stardust sprinkled over the void, scattered like ashes.

Perhaps the worst sin Jacaerys will commit tonight is that he is too impatient to continue the foreplay. He knows that no amount would prevent you from enduring any pain, but he also knows that he did not do enough. He, and the celestial Gods hidden in the stellar bushes, wants you to feel the burn of his cock stretching your walls. Commencing a wedding of sorts between your cervix and his throbbing tip.

“W-wait, ah!”

“Be pliant for me and take my seed, stop being so stubborn and let yourself have this, allow it to blossom and it can just be us for the next round, sweetling. I swear it.”

He will guide you through all the details later.

The neon waves crash against the windows, and the led scrawlings on the pillars glitch and scramble and unscramble themselves as you come together. The atrium dissolves into numbers after you’ve fallen asleep for the final time in the chamber, Jacaerys’s hand clutching your belly and your head pillowed on his chest. Giant wings cradle the pair in their center, ghastly creaking and groaning as they slice through the shifting rainbow patterns. Each moon along the journey is full and winking.

Jacaerys thinks he sees a comet fly over your heads when he’s halfway to consciousness, and he traces the valyrian letters for ‘I love you’ into the bloated skin of your stomach.

The chapel has mysteriously changed places on Dragonstone by the time of your actual wedding, the statue lies dormant.

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yukaro353 · 13 days ago

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How sweet is the calamity

The sea has decided your destiny

Love will be the last thing you feel

🐚

This could become an AU But my brain is fried jsjsjs Admire him as "foolish monk fell off the boat and was hypnotized by a hungry creature".

#fanart #drawing #avatar the last airbender #lin beifong #avatar the legend of korra #anime #tlok #tenzin #linzin #mermaid #digital drawing #Tenzin eats very well

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localicecreambiter · 2 months ago

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demi god LU time

the law of hyperfixations says you must combine interests at every given chance

adding a cut here as to not clog feeds!! its a real long post

i wanna hear thoughts too! so dont be afraid to comment. these are my personal opinions and i wanna hear if anyone agrees or disagrees :D (apologies for all the tags btw)

edit to add the stupid doodle

the gods all have favorites, and ironically none of them are their own kids (save for hades: he loves his kid. doesn't make him a good parent, but you know?)

In a more Zelda timeline abiding setting; Originally they weren't all at camp halfblood at the same time, but time shenanigans decided they were to be brought together

Imagine Chiron’s surprise when 7 of his dead campers waltz into camp (this happens EVERY SINGLE TIME they enter camp. Dionysus is completely unfazed, knowing the bs time shit the gods are dealing with atm)

By the time they enter camp in Wild’s Hyrule for the second time he kinda understands (Wind and Sky didnt have a Camp Halfblood, for the record, for obvious reasons)

Alternatively, its some form of modern au where they’re just from different parts of Hyrule (skyloft, downfall, ordonia, windfall peninsula, hyrule town (different from castle town), the list goes on) which would make a lot more sense for this kinda au (the world would’ve just had a LOT of calamities within the span of a few years, some of the heroes knowing about camp and others not so much)

(i think Legend, Wars, Time, Wind (post WW) and Four would’ve known about Camp Halfblood while the others were just kinda on their own until after their quests) meaning over half of them didn’t have prophecies and just went to deal with the issue themselves, possibly meaning on their journey they learned of camp

Ok well, all of them but Wars, who grew up at Camp Halfblood

All Zelda’s are children of Athena, save for Skyward Sword Zelda since she's the reincarnation of Hylia (yeah, im keeping the original Zelda goddesses! What of it?)

At some point fairly early on, a Zelda only had a son, who got together with Athena at some point and boom

Sky: child of Zeus

self explanatory

God of the skies? his name is literally Sky

not to mention how fucking powerful he is?

he was the "first" Link; Zeus was technically the first God, it makes sense (this is such a stupid reason)

The skies are his home, Zeus finding someone on Skyloft and “falling in love” with their love of the sky too results in this bad boy right here

The demise fight? Only a zeus kid could harbor lightning like that

A camp counselor in the modern setting (ik typically once you’re 18, you’re no longer a camper really, but shhhh)

Wind: child of Poseidon

Don't roll your eyes, i've got a reason!!

the 4 wind gods throw a fit anytime he's sent on a quest (they all love him even if they won't admit it)

A world purely ocean and islands? Poseidon would have a fuckin ball

The Great Sea needed a hero, Wind was brought about more for necessity than out of the want to have a child (this leaves a hard disconnect between wind and the gods, knowing his dad didn’t really have him out of love for his mom but because the world needed to be saved)

The irony of Poseidon being the patron of pegasi and horses and Wind not knowing what a horse is will never not be a funny thought

Has more control over the wind than he does the sea (for now)

he, like Legend, pointedly ignores that he's a demi-god, especially since he comes after the Hero of Time (kinda hard to live up to that, even outside of a demi-god au)

The ocean and winds are his mood ring: you upset him the wind gods are after you

In a modern setting, the same reason applies kinda; a quest under the sea would be virtually impossible for anyone but a child of Poseidon, and hell knows a cyclopes isnt gonna be sent (gotta love those prophecies)

OR!! OR AND HEAR ME OUT

Wind isnt a demigod

The wind gods still adore him, but he doesn't have the hero’s spirit and i think that’d kinda translate to not being a demigod, yet still being the one who was destined to go on the quest because there just weren't any demigods to do it

Still not set on which id go with

Legend: child of Hades

Ah yes, child of the big three goes on so many quests trope. Love to see it

he's Apollo's favorite favorite (Warriors is jealous as hell. Thats his dad! Wdym he likes Legend more????)

Pointedly ignores the fact he's a demigod (at least, he definitely tries to)

Blessed by (and beefing with) so many gods from his quests

probably one of the few heroes who's spoken to their godly parent (trust me, it was out of obligation rather than free will)

Prefers helping out the more minor, underappreciated, and not as needy or bitchy gods (like Hestia, for example)

curses the Olympians constantly, they've learned to ignore him, hes their best questing kid

Sort of a general camp counselor since Hades doesn't really have kids (its technically his last year but hes been there the longest out of everyone)

Managed to block the oracle over iris message

After his trip to the dark world and lorule, the gods go haywire around him, much to his delight (because it means they leave him alone)

Hyrule: child of Hecate

adopted by Hermes (much to the dismay of all the Hermes children)

I was on the line between Hecate, Apollo, and Hermes; Hyrule’s affinity for magic and the blood curse resulted in Hecate to win

Very detached from the gods, the help he receives is never outright but more subtle blessings

The gods like to ignore Downfall after Legend died tbh (outside of modern, obviously)

Well, they still ignore Downfall as a city/country.

Only learned of camp thanks to Legend, otherwise he wouldn’t have had a clue it existed

Wild: child of Athena

Also adopted by Hermes

One of the more chaotic children of Athena

The idea of Athena being his godly parent sourced from his resourcefulness and quick battle (or just general) strategies, along with his pre-calamity self being stoic and more on the critical side

Completely forgot he was a demigod and just let loose, Athena is more than slightly perturbed by him and yet so infatuated

Supervises archery at camp

Warriors: child of Apollo

exemplifies almost 0 traits of his father other than his looks and his affinity for medicine (shit archer, shit musician, can't write poetry)

blessed by Athena during the war since he was struggling so much, she always has a soft spot for the heros since they fight to protect her daughters so hard (aka pity blessing)

Actively beefing with Ares

Aphrodite likes to keep an eye on him, mostly for entertainment (she woulda eaten the whole Cia debacle UP)

Very notorious in camp considering he was a war captain at the ripe age of 17; once learning of the whole Camp Jupiter has apartments and college for half bloods insisted and led a project at CHB to get something similar built (which is where he, Sky and Twilight stay after turning 18)

Twilight: child of Demeter

His love for ranch animals and caring for his farm lead me to this decision

Also the whole wolf thing, that also counts

Appalled by the fact Wind doesn't know what a horse is considering he's literally the son of Poseidon (jealous the kid can talk to Epona and he can't)

After his journey to the twilight, the gods kinda flicker between Greek and Roman around him so they tend to avoid him like Legend

blessed/cursed by Lupa, hence the wolf thing

Teaches foraging lessons at camp

Four: child of Hephaestus

He's the smithy, I couldn’t not say he's a Hephaestus kid

received a lot less help from the gods since he was one of the first

started advocating that heros receive help from the divine after LU concludes so those after him have a fighting chance (not in the modern setting)

I havent played many of his games, but the kinstones sound like a thing Hephaestus would scatter across the earth as scrap from his creations

Not one of the fire wielders (the only one that can wield fire is Red when split, mostly because of the elemental bs in minish cap)

After drawing the Four Sword, Janus (despite being roman (i like to think the four sword would be a roman artifact, it just feels right)) was suddenly pretty interested and bestowed what wisdom he had for the demi-god

Vulcan, Neptune, Aeolus, and Ceres all came together to forge the elemental stones; the Minish were still the ones to bestow the sword to Hylian people

The gods tend to avoid him too, for the same reason they avoid Twilight and Legend (dark world shenanigans and the Four Sword)

He loves the damn forge at CHB, and was ecstatic seeing the one at Camp Jupiter

He was asked by Chiron if he would be interested in running a forge class for young demigods (be it his siblings or anyone interested) but sadly declined

Has that air of responsibility to him, being a seasoned quester (and while his 3 doesn't stand to Legend’s 6, its still pretty sizable) hes looked up to by the younger campers

Time: child of Demeter Kronos?

The Kokiri were so Demeter core dont even tell me they werent

I guess they’d kinda act like nymphs and dryads in a sense??

His abilities use to relate to his mother until the events of his first quest: the Ocarina of Time was designed to slowly corrupt the user, being a creation of Kronos’

However, it wasn’t really designed with a demigod in mind sooo…

Also self explanatory, the titan of time? Duh… huh?? what do you mean he was taken over?? What do you mean he was a child of Demeter?? No he wasnt lol that Neverrr happened

the reason he's the only “child” of a titan is mainly because of the fierce deity mask literally making him god-like, meaning he has a lot more power harbored in him sooo (the second he dawned that mask he discarded his old identity for that of a titan’s child, since it was also cursed object)

Don’t ask how he came to being Kronos’ kin, no one knows, not even he does (I do) (no, it does not imply a Hylian wandered into Tarturus and got out alive to have the baby)

Avoids interacting with the gods at all costs, he's weary of them as they are of him (even if he saved the world twice)

Extras :)

Ravio: child of Pluto

blessed by Minerva for his natural quick witted nature and clever war strategies, if her own daughter can't succeed she might as well make sure ONE does

can tell if a rupee is real or not by glance alone

Sheerow scares the fuck out of the gods, which in turn means Ravio puts them on edge, a thing very few can achieve

the gods never gave him much thought until the events of albw, to which he suddenly gained like four pair of godly eyes on him

can and will plan one of the worlds most successful heists, refuses to participate

also beefing with Ares (not Mars, Ares)

Based on my personal HC that Ravio’s some sort of artificer (be it replicating magic dungeon items or just flat out creating new ones) i think Vulcan has his eyes on him too

Hilda: child of Minerva

by far the strangest child Minerva ever birthed

exemplifies the traits of a hero rather than a ruler

a little jealous her mother likes Ravio more than her

gods be damned, she's not going to let them neglect her kingdom anymore

a force of fucking nature that single handedly forced a meeting with the gods and somehow forced them to agree to start restoring Lorule (she got the idea from Legend, who has done this multiple times for multiple different reasons)

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bethanysnow · 5 months ago

Text

So me and @lonelystczennie have been working on a project for a while now that is both of our babies. Around the time the Korea Elle shoot happened for Hyunjin, we both showed interest in this concept. I wouldn't have been able to write this without @lonelystczennie she is one of the best writers I have seen and I love her dearly. Everyone should follow her BTS account @7ndipity

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

★Yandere!Hyunjin x Fem! Reader.★

---slow burn, obsession, College AU!, pinning, eventual stalker, Fluff/eventual smut????/there is a sprinkle of angst. ---

3.3k wrds. CHAPTER ONE

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n sat in a chair in the theatre hall of SNU between classes. The room was large, and the red plush seats were a sight to behold at least in comparison to the underfunded American theatre she was accustomed to. They had just finished Romeo and Juliet for the fall and far on a facade balcony was where their Juliet stood and uttered the famous line “where for art thou Romeo-” Of course in Y/ns opinion she could have done it better.

That was the problem with the South Korean society, or more so any society as far as she was concerned. It was about who looked the part, not that they did it well.

Getting up on stage Y/n started to gather. A music stand, a chair, a folder of monologues she had put together. Holding her imaginary audience captive she readied herself…

“To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles

And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,”

It was here in this soft moment that Y/n could be herself, be loud, be obnoxious, be in her own little corner of the world where no one would see. She meandered around the stage, using its size to her advantage. Her mind cast back to the years at theatre camps, high school productions, anything to get her hands on stage…where she could be anyone she wanted to be. At least in theory.

“-No more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;

To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub: For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,”

While she wasn’t insane, she knew where she stood in the world. She knew what people thought when they looked at her. It was hard to miss, but somewhere in the mean girls brimstone there were glimmers. Glimmers of what might be, what could be..what should be.

“Must give us pause—there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns that patient merit of th'unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.”

The crowd was silent, jaws agape at the performance that befell them. Until it was a trickled down noise, starting as a low hum, but grew to a roar of applause, A tony! One shouted, Encore!! Brava Brava!! Another yelled from their seats. In the space between classes Y/n got to hold onto her dreams.

Silly Y/n, dreaming big dreams…

The door to the theatre opened and like a lightbulb flickering out. Y/n turned finding the head director of the art department walking in.

“Ah! Y/n, you here to pick up some costumes?”

“Oh uh- yea! Just making sure folks didn’t just leave them behind after last show…” Quickly taking the music stand to the side of the stage, it was in reality where Y/n had to stand her ground. So, she batted the stars away and swallowed the butterflies, getting off the stage to grab her bag. Maybe this year’s Musical would be more fun…

Hyunjin slowly followed Jisung across campus towards the art building, watching the dry, faded leaves skitter across the pavement ahead of them, caught in the wind, his hands stuffed in his pockets in an attempt to fight off the growing autumn chill.

Why had he agreed to this?

When he joined the drama department, he hadn’t realized just how much time and effort it actually entailed from him. He didn’t know much about how any of it worked actually, he had signed up mainly just to appease his friends and to get them to stop worrying about him so fucking much…

“I didn’t know this place was here.” He’d commented as they’d navigated their way through the crowded cafe, sitting down at one of the few available tables.

“How have you not noticed it, it’s like two blocks from our place?” Changbin asked.

“I don't know, I just haven't.” He mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee. It was surprisingly good.

“You need to get out of the house more.” Changbin commented.

He didn’t argue with his roommate, though he didn’t necessarily agree with him. Nowadays he spent most of his time holed up in his room, painting, but he was okay with that. That seemed to be the only thing that made him happy anymore, the only thing that held any real spark for him.

It was quiet for the briefest moment before Jisung suddenly piped up.

“Hey, why don’t you sign up for the theatre department? Most of the guys are already involved in some way, so it’s not like you won’t know anybody." Jisung suggested, referring to the rest of their group of friends.

“I’m not an actor.” Hyunjin said flatly.

“You look like one though, that goes a long way.” Changbin stated, swiping a cookie from Jisungs plate. “The rest, you can learn.”

“And there’s more than just acting involved.” Jisung adds. “There’s writing and production, wardrobe and set dressing, music-”

“You could paint sets!” Changbin offered, earning a side-long glare from Jisung.

“We just finished the Shakespeare production too, so it’d be a good time to join before we start planning for the spring show,” Jisung added.

“Why do I feel like you rehearsed this?” Hyunjin asked. They glanced between each other guiltily.

He knew what they were doing, they just wanted to get him out of his room, out of his apartment, out of the headspace that he’d been living in these past few months. They’d tried a few similar tactics in the past, and while he appreciated the gesture, he really didn’t see much point to it. He didn’t see much point to anything anymore if he was being honest. Still, he knew they wouldn’t relent until he agreed to something.

“I’ll think about it.” He offered, satisfying them for the moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, as he trailed behind his friend, he felt a weak flutter in his chest. Anxiety? Probably, but there was also something else, something faint, more pleasant. Excited? He hadn’t felt excited by much since-

No, no. We’re not thinking about that anymore.

He shook his head, quickly following Jisung through the door of the auditorium. Maybe they were right, maybe a change of scenery would be good…

The auditorium was abuzz at SNU. That winter was to be the planning and prep phase for the spring musical, and every theatre geek on campus was somewhere in that room trying to live out their slice of life anime dreams.

Y/n was in the back of the theatre typing on her laptop, busy working herself away already for what she had planned this quarter. Her theatre friends, Chan, Seungmin, Felix, Han, Jeongin, Changbin, and Minho all tended to arrive late. Leaving her to babysit the freshmen if the art director wasn’t in.

This year as part of his senior project Seungmin was going to direct and produce the Musical with the help of his friends. She was glad to be part of it; just didn’t think being late necessarily set a good example for everyone that was new.

The doors to the side stage opened and sauntering in was her band of misfits. Or at least that's what the group chat was called.

With a…new person in tow. His shoulders risen to his ears and yet his gate was sluggish. Shuffling and looking at the ground. Y/n found herself walking down the aisle to the white fold out table with stuff for the crew putting her bag down.

“So glad you cared to join us- oh great leaders~” She bowed dramatically to Seungmin and Chan. She laughed and rolled her eyes at Seungmin flipping her off.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get on with this.” He said, trailing after her down the aisle.

The light peal of laughter drew Hyunjin’s attention, his eyes flicking up from the floor, quickly scanning the group until he found its owner. She was turned partially away from him, but he could still make out part of her features. Round apple cheeks, bright eyes that disappeared into half crescents as she smiled, her whole body moving as she spoke animatedly with Seungmin about something. He didn’t realize he had frozen, staring at her, until she looked up and met his gaze.

“Um, hi?” She offered, looking at him curiously.

“Oh, Y/n, this is our friend, Hyunjin. He just joined the group. Hyunjin, this is Y/n. She’s in charge of keeping us from accidentally setting the building on fire.” Han said, gesturing between the two of them before quickly snagging the chair closest to Minho’s, as per usual.

“Don’t pin that kind of responsibility on me!” She shot back before offering a warm smile to Hyunjin. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you.” He said quietly, finding himself unable to look away from her.

“Alright, should we get started?” She nodded slightly before turning back to the rest of the group.

After rousing games of zip, zap, zop, freeze and change, and traditional ice breakers for the lonely extrovert, Y/n found herself sitting in the audience scrolling her phone while the rest of the crew bickered over what to do in earnest. Her eyes drifted to the new boy.

…Hyunjin?

His face was a lack luster pale like he hadn’t seen the sun in over two weeks. But his eyes were an abyss. No real emotion, seemed to be dragged here by their friends. Which- was how they got her to come in the first place; now it's their 3rd show season all together. His clothes hung on his body like a wire frame in a department store. Out of place, but far more expensive than the financial aid in her bank account could dream of. Catching his eyes, her own fell back to the screen in her hand. Maybe her cheeks were red from the smut she was reading earlier, or just being stared down by a dark prince type.

Y/n had gotten used to living in and around very attractive people. It was the land of the Idol.

There were enough plastic surgeons to go toe to toe with the number of Walmart’s back home. Everyone had someone they wanted to be, to look like, to sound like, to replace.

There just was no one like Hyunjin…He was who boys put up on their wall as inspiration, and girls put on their wall to admire. She dreaded to think what came to mind when she was caught looking.

~~~~~

“Beautiful, ethereal, the human incarnation of a Renaissance Goddess.” Every word or phrase that came to mind didn’t seem to do justice to the woman sitting just a few seats away from Hyunjin. ‘Y/n.’ Her name danced around the inside of his head like a lyric from a forgotten song, foreign and yet somehow familiar. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying several times to redirect his attention towards his friends, who were clearly in the middle of some heated argument, Jisungs voice echoing loudly through the hall in frustration, but each time, he found himself drawn back to her.

He couldn’t understand it, every little thing she did seemed to hypnotize him. The way her fingers danced lightly across the screen of her phone, brow creased in concentration as she read, sending occasional curious glances in his direction, sending a small jolt of electricity through his system every time her eyes locked with his, even for the briefest moment.

His heart thundered in his chest; mouth dry as his mind raced to figure out what he should do. Should he try to strike up another conversation with her? What would he even say? Every time she glanced in his direction, his mind went completely blank. Maybe it would be better for him to keep his distance? He didn’t know how long he sat there like that, observing her from afar, before Chan suddenly spoke up.

“Y/n, I need another adult!”

She jumped slightly at the sudden use of her name, making the glasses she was wearing slip a little further down her nose. Cute. He bit back a grin, watching as his friend approached her.

“Can you please explain to them why Dracula is a severely overdone production right now and how-”

“Actually I really like Dracula,” She interjected, stopping Chan in his tracks. “I think it’d be a great idea for the spring production. “What do you think, Hyunjin?” He froze as she suddenly glanced over at him.

“I-” He stuttered, his stomach doing somersaults at the way his name sounded slipping from her lips. “I think it would be good.” He managed to agree, causing her face to light up in a triumphant grin as she turned back to Chan.

“See? Majority vote wins.”

“What do you mean you wanna do Dracula? It’s cringey-” Chan exclaimed.

“Says the man who at my birthday went on a tirade about how aegyo is cute and it should be embraced…sir you are a master of cringe- embrace ego death it wouldn’t be that bad for you” Y/n laughed. Still, her eyes glanced at Hyunjin, hoping he didn’t mind that she brought him more into the conversation. Her hand reached up and pinched his hyungs cheek. “-plus, vampires are hot- if you don’t think you could pull off being a sexy vampire just say so”

Chan's eyes widened and he gasped in faux horror. Y/n smiled triumphantly looking to Seungmin with a raised brow, silently asking for his thoughts.

“Director!!” Han yelled clinging onto Seungmin's arm trying to force him into receiving his love and affection “Mom said it's okay! Let’s do sexy vampire show!”

“I told you to stop calling me that!” Y/n yelled back pulling Han off.

While they all ended up bickering about the ethics of sexy vampires, Changbin’s eyes found Hyunjins. Staring at Y/n as she manhandled Han to get off their mutual friend. Was…that a blush on his cheeks?

There was a light in his eyes that Changbin hadn’t seen in so long.

It was a welcome change, maybe with some encouragement, Hyunjin could find his way back to himself again. Or- that was the hope at least.

Hyunjin looked up from his middle-distance stare to see Han chasing Y/n around the stage and her dodging his antics.

“!would-” “-yoU” “QUIT-” “IT?!” She shrieked bobbing and weaving from the younger’s attempts to grapple (he would say hug) her. A small smile teased at the corner of his lips as he watched her interact with his friend, admiring the grace and agility she moved with. I wonder if she dances-

“Alright that’s enough, Han!” Chan called, finally managing to capture the hyper younger man in a tight bear hug, allowing rehearsal to get underway at last. Chan eventually catches Han, and play rehearsal could truly start.

Y/n sat in an auditorium seat in the front row, while the rest of the boys spoke to the incoming freshmen for that year. Explaining Dracula, what it entailed and if they were uncomfortable with it to go now, no hard feelings, but best for them to see just who they could work with.

~~~~

It was a rather daunting undertaking, but Y/n planned to be in charge of costumes and wardrobe for the year's productions at SNU, and hopefully for the coming seasons as well.

Not by choice of course, but rather had resigned herself to the fact that the cost of auditioning, the cost of being good, but not good enough, the cost of being ensemble as great as ensemble is, was too much. She had a skill set that was fit for behind the scenes work, might as well embrace it. The boys were getting names, contact information, and the like as Hyunjin decided to test the waters, coming over to sit near Y/n, keeping an empty seat between the two of them so as to avoid potentially making her feel crowded.

“So,” He cleared his throat awkwardly, catching her attention. “How do these things usually go?”

“Well,” She sat up a little straighter. “Once we figure out the main production team, we start working on things like set designing, auditions, wardrobes-” Hyunjin’s attention began to drift as she spoke, her hands capturing his focus with the way they moved and flitted about as she spoke, leaving him transfixed. “What department are you interested in joining?” Her question shook him out of his daze, his eyes snapping back up to meet hers.

“Uh, I don’t know yet.” He said. “What department are you working in?”

“Costumes.” She answered with a small, amused grin.

“I might try that then.” He said quickly.

She laughed, or more chuckled. Almost one could think she just cleared her throat, but the smile on her face would prevent the assumption. It was enough though. Hyunjin had fireworks in his soul blowing off and he didn’t know how to stop it. Not that he would want too of course.

“You should audition though! Everyone should give it a shot; you won’t know what you don’t try.” Y/n said in an attempt at being encouraging to the newcomer.

“Are you then? Going to Audition?”

“Nah- not this year, It’s Seungmins project, I wanna support him best I can and that is with costumes.” She smiled and leaned back in her chair.

Looking at Hyunjin Y/n couldn’t help but notice the bags under the boys eyes, the flat expression wore thin and the smile he dawned was tired. Her heart ached, but not in pity, it was in recognition. She knew what it was like for the lights to go out behind ones eyes…thats what happened when she moved to South Korea.

The main 7 that adopted her brought her back to life and now there was Hyunjin. In a similar position to where she was, and maybe with some musical theatre shenanigans he would find his way back to wherever he fell off.

“Y/N do you think you could get the phantom costumes from freshman year?!” Seungmin raised his voice above the chatter. Her head whipped to the sound of her name and rolled her eyes. “What do you think?!” She shouted back only to bow her head at Hyunjin briefly to go join his friends little circle that had been made. Leaving him, to watch her walk away.

Hyunjin watched her join their other friends with a faint pull in his chest as she went. “Y/n”, everything about her seem to draw him in, though he couldn’t quite place the reason why. Was it the bright flash in her eyes as she spoke? The warmth that colored her cheeks as she laughed? Her very being seemed to exude a warm, calming quality that he hadn’t experienced in another person before. He shook his head, looking away from the others as he tried to collect himself.

Was he seriously this infatuated with her after only a half hour?

It wasn’t impossible, he knew he tended to be rather intense when it came to these types of things, he’d been told that more than once in the past, but something about her seemed to strike a different chord within him.

thank you @lonelystczennie for being my writing partner.

Tag List: Open

@kaciidubs @itsseohannbin @ldysmfrst @frenchkisstheabyss @daydreams-after-dark

#Hyunjin x reader #yandere!Hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids #college AU #slow burn #Dracula #phantom of the opera #Hyunjin x plus size reader #Hwang hyunjin x reader #plus size reader #fat reader #chubby reader

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mereelskirata · 4 months ago

Text

Get to know me tag game

Rules: answer + tag 9 people you want to get to know better and/or catch up with.

Tagged by the lovely @hastalavistabyebye and @whiskygoldwings <3

Favorite color : Blue

Last song : Spotify says it's The Summoning by Sleep Token

Currently reading : Colorless by KENT

Currently watching : A vod of CohhCarnage playing The Calamity Mod for Terraria, and House of the Dragon

Currently craving : Either cheesecake or mint ice cream

Coffee or tea : Peach Tea!

A hobby you would like to try : Watercolour painting or clay modelling

An AU/Alternate universe you've been plotting for : I have quite a few, but the ones I have worked most on: a No O66 AU where Wolffe builds his own home after the war (this one I would like to finish one day) and Royalty!QuinFox

NPT : @serri-i @the-starry-seas @rooksunday @starwarsanthropology @bladelei

@aerjnn @coffeeandbatboys @i-eat-worlds @brokenphoenix99

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oflights · 4 months ago

Note

I just found Glory today and I love it so so much I’m obsessed!!!! I’ve always found that the authors I love the most also have excellent taste so do you have any bloodweave recs for me to devour while I pine away for a new chapter?

hi! ahh i'm so happy to hear this! thank you so much, i'm incredibly pleased you're enjoying Glory. 💕

recs!!! i definitely have recs *cracks knuckles*

disclaimer: a lot of these are bookmarked from when i was still shy and just reading and getting into this pairing on my own and very New (though i am still very New, to be fair) and basically i need to get better about commenting lol. but i rec these wholeheartedly! and also obviously these are just my opinions, i am still reading lots but haven't read everything.

these are all complete; i might do a separate post with wips i'm following if there's any interest!

in absolutely no order, and below the read more for length:

The Fourth Ring by Vamillepudding; this is the first fic i immediately sent to all of my friends and forced them to read because i loved it so much. inspirational, hilarious, beautiful. no tadpoles AU, my beloved

We're Here and It's Now by houseofthestars; one of my favorite bloodweave authors, i recommend basically all of houseofthestars' fics but this one is a fave. mind the tags/kinks but ahhhh. this is also my absolute favorite descriptions of a beautiful post-game underdark life for them, it's so perfect. one of my favorite gale voices, too, he is everything to me

Might Just Make It by lavvyan; another favorite author of mine!! this is an absolutely adorable and heart-wrenching little AU that was one of my major "oh" moments for these two. love it

Corner of Sail Street and Sea Lion by lavvyan; again, lavvyan, truly a fave!! this is such a fun, frantic post-game fic where astarion races to waterdeep to rescue gale from a calamity. i simply love when astarion is forced to confront the fact that he cares UGH like he's kicking and screaming and stamping his feet about it but he cares, damn it! it's so good

Weakness Coming On by bloodweaving; one of my fave in-game fics; it's just so incredibly plausible and hilarious. astarion absolutely tortures gale in this because he just cannot deal with how much he likes him and that is just. yes exactly perfect, no notes

you might love me to death by tuffgreg; this in-game dynamic is incredible and complex and delicious. amazing use of the act 2 backdrop, aka my favorite act.

Dysfunction by nematode; god i could read 100k more words of this version of them! the exploration of these sex dynamics is sooo good. they are just perfect here, i adore this fic.

embracing the sun by vannral; reccing all of vannral's bw fics but this one has my heart. it's gorgeous and funny and so sweet. also shadowheart is my secret second fave companion and the use of her in vannral's fics is always wonderful.

if my heart stops beating, we'll bleed the same way by AgentBuzzkill; angsty hurt gale is an obvious fave of mine but the astarion in this fic is who really kills me; i have so many feelings about him immediately post-cazador and the weight of what he has to deal with, and this makes it so much heavier

Bliss and Ignorance by ultranerdyandiknowit; i'm still drafting a comment for this fic because i love it so much. heed the warnings and tags but please give this one a read. it's gorgeous and heartbreaking and the miscommunication just makes so much sense. again, act 2 is my favorite part of the game and this leans into act 2 gale so well and i love it so much

wow okay i will be shutting up now 🙈

#bloodweave #bloodweave fic #bloodweave fic recs #fic recs #reccing is so fun and also so nerve-wracking because it's like 'here these have all awoken something in me and now you know how and what'#while also hoping they awaken something in all of you!!#here are my tastes; perceive them

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linksthoughtbrambles · 5 months ago

Note

You want a prompt? I'll give you a prompt!

"She stared at the sea, as blue as his eyes." Zelink, of course.

Thank you so much for this ask jdetan! This concept kept growing the more I worked on it, so this is chapter 1 of a longfic of... an as yet unknown total length. But I have thoughts 😄. A lot of them lol.

The Horizon Cannot Come To Me

Zelink, BotW, Pre-Calamity, Deserted Island AU, rated T for now (likely to be E at some point), 1st chapter ~4700 words. Also on ao3 here.

Chapter 1: A Nestled Wreckage or Two

She stared at the sea, as blue as his eyes.

His incredibly infuriating eyes.

“What?!” Zelda gasped, scrambling up from the sand, bleary and searching for their boat with wild snaps of her head. She saw him slip from one knee to his rear, his eyes on her instead of the beach. What did he think he was doing?!

“The boat!” she cried. “Where is it?”

His entirely inadequate “uh” arrived as she recognized the color of a shattered wooden plank nestled in wet sand, now-gentle waves frothing against its grain.

Her head turned from it as though dragged by the slow tide toward Link.

He appeared most undignified, bootless with his drenched clothing covered in sand and that look on his face, wide-eyed and grimacing, his hands splayed behind him with fingers buried to his third knuckles.

“I,” he said.

She waited.

He swallowed.

She glowered at him.

“Ohhhh,” he said with a strange little laugh, running a hand through his wet hair, depositing extra sand there with a wince.

“Do I take it we no longer have a boat?”

Link nodded and kept nodding, his hand having returned to his hair, and with a start, Zelda realized something else was missing.

“Where is the Sword that Seals the Darkness?” she asked, with a strange, dim sense of surprise at how small her voice sounded.

He peeked at her between the arm he’d rested on one knee and the hand still tangled in his hair as though steadying himself with it. “I dropped it.”

“How could you drop it?! It was sheathed!”

“I took it out. It was weighing us down.” He held a palm out as though to ward off whatever he saw in her gaze. “I had to.”

The Sword that Seals the Darkness.

Lost.

Like them.

“Merciful Goddess,” she whispered.

To his credit, Link had a lean-to built for her within the hour.

Zelda used the time to change into the spare shirt and trousers he apparently kept in his korok pouch. There was a small but very convenient freshwater pool with a gentle waterfall, and while she had reservations about drinking it without boiling it, she gladly rinsed the grain of salt from her skin.

She then began to check the flora and fauna around them against the slate’s compendium. They wouldn’t starve, at least—palm fruit and bananas appeared abundant, and as one paraglider cloth fluttered in the breeze behind her, Link deposited two large, round fruit unfamiliar to her on the other paraglider cloth she sat on. She frowned as he walked away, compelled, for some reason, to snap a picture of him with sand still stuck to his back. He’d discarded only his socks.

She indulged her compulsion. She then sniffed and pointed the Slate at the melons, which apparently were “cantaloupes.”

“Hylia’s sake,” Zelda fumed as she attempted yet again to force the Slate to emit an intermittent, high-amplitude electromagnetic pulse. “It’s not as though they won’t be looking for us,” she muttered (despite her uncertainty as to Link’s whereabouts, or whether he truly listened when she thought out loud), “but they shall most certainly begin on Eventide, and we are most definitely not there.” Her gaze rose to the horizon, utterly flat and entirely blue, which it shouldn’t have been in any direction on any island she’d ever seen from the shores of Hyrule. She shook her head, confounded. It was as though the gods themselves had sent that storm to hurtle them as far from home as possible.

Purah knew Zelda, and therefore would know to search for some sort of signal from the Slate.

How long it would take her to find the right one was the second question.

The first, of course, was whether Zelda could produce one before the Calamity came.

A clack and a spark drew her eyes to the firepit Link had dug. Zelda grimaced, as did he, at the humid wood and bark which had thus far refused to light. She imagined if Link had fire arrows in that magical pouch of his, he would use them only as a last resort.

Link’s footsteps approached her.

“You should sleep, Princess,” he said.

She squinted up toward where he must have been, her eyes adjusted to the screen, with only its meager light to illuminate him.

“I have yet to resolve the communication problem,” she said.

“It’ll keep til tomorrow,” he said. “You’ll think better on a night’s rest.”

She blinked as though it would speed her night vision’s arrival. “The longer I take, the longer til we are found.”

“You need to take care of yourself,” he said with a strange laugh. “If you get sick, I—”

There was a pause, and Zelda’s face pinched. She hugged the slate to her chest, attempting to see beyond it.

“—I don’t know what I’m doing,” Link said, “with that. I won’t be able to take over for you.”

It was more than he’d ever spoken to her in a day.

He crouched before her, his fingers steadying him just in front of the paraglider-mat, his face now strangely hollowed by the graze of Slate-light on his cheekbones. “Please, Princess,” he said, holding a hand out to take the Slate from her.

She stared at it, rankling, somehow, at how reasonable a request it was.

She placed it in his hand and turned off the screen.

She curled up on the mat to the sound of him rummaging around, her forearm beneath her head. Sleep arrived swiftly.

She awakened with a cloth rolled beneath her head and several more tucked around her body. She craned her neck to see korok and Rito designs alongside a rather childish-looking egg with pink spots adorning her, criss-crossing a bit in her bleary vision.

“Why do you have a myriad of paraglider cloths?” she asked.

A squelching arrived as though in answer, and she turned to see Link with his mouth expanded unreasonably wide around a kabob of roasted orange melon.

He stared wide-eyed at her, his face too occupied for speech.

Then he reached for another stick suspended over the meager fire, waved it in the air a few times, and held it out to her.

She sat up, stretched her neck, and accepted his offering with a plaintive squeal from her stomach.

The fruit was extremely wet. She did her best to conceal its sticky tracks on her chin.

Link was terrible at it.

While she pursued her critical task with dedication beneath the palms and the small shelter, and Link kept her dutifully fed and watered, she found herself increasingly distracted by his other pursuits.

He circled the immediate area at a brisk jog. She assumed him to be scouting (again), quietly approved, and paid it little mind.

He pulled a small shovel from his korok pouch and attempted to sidle away from her while shielding it from her with his body, disappearing into the treeline. Zelda sighed and tried not to think about what he was doing with it.

She later caught sight of him emerging from behind a huge rock far to her right and nearer to the ocean, side-walking on his toes, half-crouched, with his hands in the air.

She shook her head and returned her eyes to the screen.

When his feet invaded the upper right corner of her vision despite her attempt to concentrate, she looked up to find his head waggling as well. The slate lowered to rest in her lap as he made a sudden leap forward, then sprinted toward the sea. He stopped a few moments later, searching the area around his feet.

Zelda returned to her S.O.S. efforts when he began scratching the back of his head, and this time became quite absorbed. She lost track of Link entirely for at least a few hours.

When he reappeared, it was in the other corner of her eye, hauling a wide, dark, flat rock from somewhere in the trees far to her left down the beach. He dragged it further and further from the trees’ shadow, eventually letting it rest near to where they’d come ashore, almost directly between Zelda and the ocean. Link rose with his fists on his hips and a nod, and when he turned to walk back toward the treeline, he appeared quite pleased with himself. He also appeared to be sweating arrowheads. He’d draped his champion’s tunic on a nearby branch, but he was still heavily clothed.

“Sir Link!” Zelda shouted.

He squinted at her, the Sun beating on his face.

Zelda winced. He’d be quite burnt, wouldn’t he? “Your attire is inappropriate!”

His expression didn’t seem to change, but he broke into a jog. This seemed counterproductive if the objective were to cool himself down. Zelda opened her mouth to say so, then shut it. Surely, he knew this and was simply in a hurry to escape the sunlight. She returned to her work.

When he arrived, a flash of blue caught her eye once more: he’d taken his tunic from the branch. As it made its way over his head and onto his torso over his sweat-soaked shirt, Zelda’s eye twitched.

“Link?” she asked.

“Princess?” he said, panting a bit.

“What are you doing?”

His hands spread open at hip-height. Zelda had rather the impression of a shrug, though he hadn’t actually shrugged. “You cannot possibly be cooler like that,” she said.

His face mimed an “oh.”

“What did you believe I meant?” Zelda asked.

Link gestured at his front. “Well- I wasn’t in uniform.”

Her mouth went a little slack. It took her a moment to shake her disbelief free. “Did you- truly believe I value your formality over your health?”

His eyes shifted side to side and his face paled a bit, as though he thought himself in trouble.

“Sir Link,” she said. “You are overdressed and losing a significant percentage of your body’s water to sweat. I appreciate your extraordinary ability to rip palm nuts open with your bare hands—” (she truly did, he’d frightened her with the first one yesterday, it had cracked so mightily)— “and therefore keep yourself supplied with fresh water, but there is no need to exacerbate the problem. Those trousers are thick and heavy, aren’t they?” She blinked as he continued to stare at her, and a sudden suspicion struck. “They’re still the same ones? From the ocean?”

His throat bobbed.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You gave me your spare clothes,” she said—not that she hadn’t realized that—it’s not as though he’d handed her women’s clothing—"and kept yours on. Didn’t you? You didn’t change last night? Or bathe?”

The spooked look on his face was enough confirmation. She could only imagine the chafing.

“Sir Link, I order you to cease- whatever it is you were doing and take care of your clothing situation at once.”

“But-“

“The last thing either of us needs is for you to develop some-“ she waved a hand at him- “manner of- skin infection.”

He winced.

She sighed. Something about his expression almost made her want to smile, but that was certainly, absolutely not allowed. This was Sir-Knight-Who-Seals-The-Darkness, the bane of her every waking step, the shadow haunting each glance over her shoulder, the statue standing mute at her door in the night.

His usual stony silence seemed a far cry from the paralysis currently affecting him.

She sighed again, her face and voice softening. “Bathe, please. You’ll be glad you did.”

She shook her head when he emerged sometime later, his wet, presumably rinsed shirts and pants over one arm, and opened her mouth to say something about his extremely sunburned face—and failed to do so.

It hadn’t occurred to her how he’d look in nothing but trunks.

She should’ve known what kind they’d be, considering the spare undergarment he’d handed her. It was tighter on her, with her curvy shape, but it still clung to him—and he was all chiseled lines in muscle, everywhere (at least, everywhere she could currently see).

She turned her attention back to the Slate and flatly refused to look up when he returned to inspect the state of the (now nonexistent) fire.

She managed to keep her head down for a long time once Link walked off.

Then her sedentary status began to get the better of her. She shifted her position to relieve the discomfort. She did so again—and again. She sat with one knee bent up and her elbow on that—then sat up on her knees, but that didn’t last long—then with both legs bent like all those prim court ladies riding sidesaddle. Eventually, she tried laying on her stomach with the slate before her face, and that was alright except for her bladder, which was becoming more and more difficult to ignore—and even more so in that position.

She rolled onto her back.

She managed to hold the Slate above her head for a while before that, too, became uncomfortable and she lowered it to her chest with a sigh.

There was nothing for it.

She rose, brushing the sand that had blown its way onto her mat from her (Link’s) clothing.

She quite liked the shirt. It was tight around her chest, but comfortable and soft owing to the close knit. She supposed she’d be too warm in it were she hauling rocks like Link in the sun, though.

She scanned the beach, then the trees behind her, for a sign of him, and saw none.

Zelda strode to the branch she’d hung her own things on and strapped her belts around her waist, then secured the slate at her hip. She’d not leave the Slate unattended, no matter how deserted the place seemed.

She emerged from the thick growth of low ferns she’d found feeling relieved but restless. Her muscles did not at all wish to return to her seat beneath the lean-to so quickly, so as she’d seen no sign of danger on the beach as of yet, she made her way what must have been northward, thinking to walk with her feet in the cool, wet sand at the ocean’s edge.

She jumped a solid foot into the air at the sound of “PRINCESS?!?!” being screamed at the top of Link’s lungs.

“Here, I’m HERE!” she shouted, her heart pattering like a rabbit’s hind legs and her right ankle in sudden pain from rolling on a rock. She hissed, her arms flying out for support, and caught herself on a thick, branch-like palm-stem. She already heard Link crashing toward her through the foliage, and she tested her foot, breaking into a sudden sweat of desperation not to appear as though she couldn’t take care of herself for twenty minutes without him.

She refused to be injured. Absolutely not—not in front of him.

Link burst from the ferns to her left, a rather spiny stick in one hand with the floppy remains of a ferny growth on one side and a wild look in his eye.

Zelda schooled her face practical despite his near-naked state and her ankle’s throbbing. “Sir Link—there is no need for panic. I am fine.”

He scanned the area, nodding and lowering his mostly non-threatening vegetation. He relaxed his arm and…stared at her.

She stared back.

He looked left, then right. Then back at her.

She raised her chin. “Something amiss, Sir Link?”

He waved his stick a few inches, still pointed toward the ground. Zelda once again had the impression of a shrug.

“You needn’t remain,” she said, still gripping the stem and assuring her foot flat on the ground despite its complaining.

His eyes drifted first to her hand, then to her feet. His head pulled slowly back, and though his expression didn’t change much, she suspected he suspected. “I should accompany you, Princess,” he said. “The area seems safe, but it’s better not to take the chance.”

She blinked rapidly, her chin rising even further. “It truly isn’t necessary. Have I ever been harmed on those occasions when I’ve- ah…”

“Slipped away?” he offered, one eyebrow twitching the barest fraction.

“…Indeed,” she said, his words considerably less inflammatory than the ‘escaped’ which had crossed her mind.

“…Not yet,” he said, voice flat as usual on the rare occasions he’d used it in Hyrule, but something grim lay buried in its lowered pitch.

Zelda gritted her teeth and doubled down. “And why should you expect this to be the first time?”

“I expect every time to be the first time, Princess.”

She paused at that, taken aback. “I- see. Then why have you allowed me to remain at the shelter unattended?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye out. But I can’t do that if I don’t know where you are.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “I do not wish to be-“ she threw her free hand high in the air- “surveiled without cessation.”

His look became a cross between understanding and regret. “I- know, Princess. But I’m your appointed knight. I have-“

“A duty, yes, I am aware.” She glanced over his shoulder out of habit, expecting that glint of blue. It was missing.

He shook his head. “To you,” he said. “Not the sword.”

Her lips parted.

She hadn’t thought him so observant of her. Watchful, yes. Insightful, no. He had, after all, believed she wanted him fully dressed despite the risk of heat stroke.

She made the mistake of shuffling her feet. Pain shot up her right leg and she jolted with a wince she attempted to pass off as a grimace at his words.

His shoulders slumped a little as he eyed her foot.

Zelda tripled down—she released the stem, both feet flat on the ground. It hurt—a good deal—but she’d had far worse sprains and a sense that this, while painful, would be fine.

She turned toward the ocean to walk it out.

She went step by step, far slower than her usual gait—he would know that, but her leg was usable, it wasn’t broken, and she wasn’t a child. She attempted to appear calm and as though she were simply inspecting their surroundings.

He stepped to her side—the injured one—his glorified twig in his outer hand and the other, she was certain, ready to grab her should she stumble—which, of course, she would not.

She walked down to the waves as planned and followed the edge of the wet sand, to and then past their little camp, all the way to where she’d seen Link drag the rock out of the trees, pain in every slow step, sorely tempted to seat herself and allow the water to soothe her foot. She didn’t.

Link accompanied her the entire way in silence.

The difficult part arrived when she turned to walk up the sloping sand toward the lean-to. It put extra pressure on that ankle, either to bend further back, to support the ball of her foot alone, or to turn sideways. She found herself stopping between each short step.

“Princess-“

“I am fine,” she said, flushing, as though those words hadn’t given the already-foolish game entirely away. She stood still a little longer, though she suspected the longer she did, the worse the following step would feel.

She heard Link shuffling beside her, and then a strange sliding sound. A furtive glance showed something bizarrely long emerging from the pouch belted to his hip. A moment later, he was holding a shining, silver spear exactly like those carried by the Zora guarding Dorephan’s throne room. He held it out to her.

“You seem like you’re getting a little tired, Princess,” he said. “I don’t have a walking stick, but this might help.”

Her hand curled around the shaft tentatively. It was cool and surprisingly light, with the tip well above her head. She leaned on it and took a step—it was more manageable.

“Thank you,” she said, and made her slow way to the lean-to.

She managed to collapse onto the paraglider-mat with some dignity and no sounds of surprised pain. She laid her bad leg straight out, then the other, and leaned back on her hands, rolling her eyes at herself behind her lids.

Link was rummaging again.

He pulled a knife from his pouch and began scraping the meat from half of a palm nut he’d cracked earlier. She watched him dully as he deposited the edible portion into the unscraped half, thinking she ought to get back to her work. He then produced a blob of white chuchu jelly and placed it, the cleaned palm-nut shell, and his not-so-threatening stick on the mat beside her.

“If you’re hot,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and his hair blowing in the perfectly pleasant cool evening breeze, “you can try the chuchu jelly. It stays cool a long time.” He then rose and disappeared into the treeline.

Zelda stared at the items beside her, sheepish. It took her several minutes to get over her embarrassment enough to burst the jelly into the makeshift bowl.

It felt blissfully cold on her ankle. She set the rest aside in reserve and propped her legs up on the rolled-cloth pillow from the previous night.

She returned to her work on the slate, picking for a while at the palm meat Link had mildly cooked, once again, over a meager fire.

About an hour later, he suddenly held a hand-sized meat pie between her face and the Slate. She goggled at him.

“You need a good source of protein, Princess,” he said.

The pie was very warm.

She stared at the fire, then all around her for a sign he had somehow constructed an oven.

And a rolling station.

And butchered a wild animal.

“Where did this come from?” she finally asked.

He pointed to his pouch.

“What?! How-“ she knew how, but- “how long has it been in there?”

He cocked his head, considering it. “About two months?”

“Two months?!” She thrust it at him. “Sir Link- that is- well beyond spoilage-“

He took it from her and took a hearty bite.

She fought a visceral revulsion sending bile up her throat.

He smiled a little and swallowed—then held it out to her.

The pie was not only warm—it was steaming inside. The filling appeared perfectly fresh—perhaps a wild boar or even beef filling with peas, carrots, and some manner of starchy root. It smelled not only edible, but wonderful.

“…How?” she asked.

“Magic,” he answered. “No idea how it works, but everything that goes in comes out exactly the same. No aging—no spoiling.” He huffed a small laugh. “No getting cold before you’re ready to eat it.”

He reached a hand in—and produced a second pie, nearly identical, which he held out to her.

She took it in a strange state of grateful shock and nibbled a corner. The pastry was excellent—flaky and deliciously browned. A larger bite very nearly produced a hum of delicious enjoyment, though she tamped it, feeling it would be somehow rude.

“Thank you, Sir Link. It’s- delicious. And fortunate, considering our situation. May I ask- ah…”

“How much I have?”

“Yes.”

He appeared to be fighting a smirk. “Way more than I should.”

He must have noticed her eyeing the spent sticks from roasting the melon. “It’s not infinite,” he said. “Better to go easy on it—once it’s gone, it’s gone.”

She ate her (quite satisfying) meal slowly as she worked, making it stretch. She endeavored only to listen to Link’s activity. He was busy with something at that flat, dark rock of his, but as long as he wasn’t turning it into a sacrificial altar, she wasn’t going to worry about it.

Zelda jolted awake, her arm flung haphazardly past her head, the Slate just beyond the reach of her fingertips, and paraglider cloth once again tucked around her. She could recall neither laying on her side to work nor intending to fall asleep.

The reason for her wakefulness protested with a throb.

She suppressed a groan as she sat up, gripping her injured leg’s calf to assist it. Her foot had been hanging uncomfortably, stretching the tendons in her ankle as it dangled past her other shin. Once righted, she reached first for the Slate—it read 2:37 am.

She used the screen’s light to search for the chuchu jelly. A dip of her index finger told her it was, indeed, still cool. She attended to her ankle (now visibly swollen) with a generous amount of the natural salve.

The moon must have risen recently, for the sea was lit in dim streaks rising and falling with the sound of waves. With a start, she realized Link was still sitting cross-legged before the firepit. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were open.

“Sir Link?” she whispered.

“Mm?” he hummed.

“Have you yet slept?”

He shook his head, his hair visible as a messy outline against the backdrop of the calm sea. “I can go a long time without sleep, Princess.”

She knew the truth of that. She’d been confused the first few times he’d taken a night shift at her door despite his daytime dogging of her footsteps. She half-supposed he slept standing up with his eyes open.

Seeing him sit there with his forearms balanced, wrists hanging over his knees, she rather thought that supposition to be at least partially supported.

“I… suspect I shall be unable to sleep for a while,” she said. “If your concern is to keep an eye out, as you’ve said, I have two eyes myself and am happy to use them. Two ears, even. Please, rest.”

“I am resting.”

“Sleep,” she clarified.

He took a swift breath—then another. “…Princess-“

“You have a duty,” she said. “I, too, have a duty as your sovereign. You are one of my people. Your welfare is therefore my concern. Please…take sleep while I am awake.”

“You’ve only gotten a few hours.”

“And you have had none. I insist,” she said.

He remained still and silent as the crests of waves grew from nearly-black to soft-blue-grey in the growing moonlight. She rather thought he might disobey her entirely, but at length he lay on his own mat, his elbow bent beneath his head.

She presumed he slept.

She allowed the Slate’s light to go out—she hadn’t the concentration to fiddle with its complex inner language—and found a less painful way to sit with her good ankle beneath her bad one. She listened to the sounds of the night, wondering that she wasn’t afraid of some creature stepping from the trees to menace her here.

They weren’t in Hyrule.

She had little idea what to expect, truly, and they didn’t yet know the size of the island—yet she felt unaccountably safe. She would not allow herself to sleep despite her impression. If she did so without waking Link up, he might never sleep another night, and she wasn’t willing to put him through that, regardless of his proficiency at standing, stone in a hall of stone, night after night.

Her face softened in the dark, as the waves seemed to in the fall of silver on their brief emergence ashore.

Surely, such attention from him personally was unnecessary, but she’d only ever spoken to him of it in the context of her own exasperation. What was his context? Did he believe her to be in extreme danger in her own castle? She’d rather thought-

She…

She scrubbed her face with her hands, trying to piece together a coherent thought from the wreckage of her feelings.

It didn’t work. Perhaps she was too tired.

The night’s gentle sounds made a gradual incursion against the noisy jumble in her head. She knew the Slate far better than she knew her knight, and she had yet to figure it out, either.

She settled for watching the sea, eyes as wide as she could make them, to catch whatever glimpse of light she could on the horizon. Inspiration would strike, Goddess willing.

~~~~~

#the horizon cannot come to me #thcctm #thicctom?#500 followers #celebration #prompt response #chapter 1 #will become a longfic #lol #ANOTHER longfic 😂#Deserted Island AU #botw #pre-calamity #zelink #romance #humor #and more #the legend of zelda #fanfic

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