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1up-girl · 2 years

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Tacet (2023) Ch. 1

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda Pairing: Link/Zelda Current Word Count: 3.3k Rating: E for sexual content

Summary: In their shared silence, she craves his voice. The distinction of hearing it is more than she's bargained for.

Faron welcomes its newest guests with all of the oppression that Zelda expects it to. The first sight of the Floria River comes into view as the sun crawls along to its zenith in the midst of an azure sky, and it isn’t long before the damp air is pressing up against Zelda’s skin, incessant and irritating, quickly gathering at her underarms and at the crooks of her elbows. Strands of cornflower are slowly adhering themselves to her temple as the stallion she’s been gifted for the expedition trots along the unevenly marked path. Relief seems unattainable.

The Princess had set off for the Spring of Courage without a lance in tow, and when she passed through the galvanized apathy of the castle gates, there had only been one, quiet soldier following in her wake; through a persistence that’s garnered more luck than her usual efforts, Zelda managed to convince her father that a smaller expedition would likely yield much more positive results. His initial recommendation of fifty men had felt far too overwhelming when he announced it— Zelda recalls the way anxiety jumbled in her stomach and twisted every which way so that she was nearly tossing up her feeble breakfast before the throne; but the thin tiara atop her head reminded her of its presence, and she struck the idea down in a fuller voice than her father had come to recognize. This should be done quietly. It hadn't been long before she’d wheedled the number so far down that the King was rubbing at his temple with exasperation, soon deciding, perhaps only out of spite, that it’s Sir Link and Sir Link only that shall aid her.

Zelda can accept that—after all, Sir Link’s daily routine already consists of an overwhelming dose of disappointment in her.

The sprawling canopies of the jungle soon echo with the strident call of birdsong and the prattle of a rushing stream. The copse begins to grow thicker, and for the first time all afternoon, uncertainty is gripping at the Princess’ throat as tightly as her fingers around the stallion’s reins. A flurry of cries tears through the veil of radiant green, perhaps drawn from a lone hog caught between some bloodthirsty predator’s ravenous incisors. She inhales sharply and sits taller, the taste of the jungle’s air sitting thickly on her tongue.

“Are you faring well enough back there?” She calls backwards in an attempt to shed her nerves. Faring, Faron, ha. She tosses the laziest of glances back at her knight attendant, catching just enough of him to find that humidity hasn’t left him entirely unscathed, either. He nods politely before his sharp attention is pulled down to where a vine crackles beneath his mare’s heavy step.

Zelda, for the most part, has grown warmer towards Link in the last few weeks. It’s hard to stay cross with the man who once darted across the dunes to save her from what ought to have been a horrible death at the hands of those who'd sought the blood of the Goddess, meant to spill it across the desert's sandy swells. The hero seems almost indifferent to his efforts, as if he’d only prepared her a prompt afternoon tea; perhaps it’s his indifference that’s driving her a bit wild. Only a month ago, she’d hardly been able to look at him, each sight of his piercing stare and his long lashes and the damned sword on his back a blistering reminder of her own failures—but she’s far more embarrassed now, critical of herself for reasons that have more to do with the huffed tantrums of days passed. Perhaps her knight, given his nonchalance towards much more pressing matters, might also turn an eye to the juvenile behavior she’d once reserved for him.

Zelda draws her stallion to a halt to assess their location and drags a finger, gloved and sticky, across the map, running along a trail of blue dye as she traces the river southwards. “How would you feel about a quick rest soon?” she asks, her voice competing against the thrumming swell of the jungle’s mysterious strains. He has no objections, though she’s sure he’d never voice them even if they were to float across his mind.

As she expects, a small clearing just south of the ancient ruins opens up to them, and Zelda is sliding off of her horse’s stark white frame before Link has a moment to offer his assistance. She wiggles aching fingers and stretches her limbs, bends to feel the grass beneath her and raises her arms skywards with a sigh that her handmaidens might concern themselves with. For all of its uncertainties and in spite of everything that lurks behind the verdant curtain of foliage, the jungle is liberating. Hyrule Castle is far more oppressive than this.

Zelda’s thighs quiver as she sinks into a shady spot. Link ties their horses to a neighboring tree and is immediately on the hunt, eyes flickering from one dense branch to another before they lock onto the spiked husks that dangle from them. He launches himself up into one of the trees with ease, leather boots digging into the bark and thrusting him upwards. The fruit hits the ground beneath him with a soft thud that pulls Zelda from her thoughts, and she squints to make out what he’s gathering for them.

“Durians. I’ve never tasted one before.”

He turns and disarms her with the gentlest of smiles, but he’s quickly scaling another bole for more. When Link is satisfied with the pounds of durians he’s tugged from their perch, he shovels them into a bag and rests them neatly among their belongings. More weight for his mare, but they don’t have too much further to go—hardly an inconvenience for an animal as determined as the regal sorrel that gives Zelda’s own dignified thoroughbred a run for his money. Epona, she’s called, and she wonders if Link’s given her such a strong name all on his own or not—before her near death experience, she wouldn’t have thought considered asking purely out of spite: she’s a little too embarrassed to do so now, doesn’t want to feel her face grow hot when he wiggles his way out of a response with a shrug.

The reprieve ends far too quickly and they’re soon descending into the heart of the jungle, equine footsteps surprisingly gentle as they maneuver through tendrils of vine and root running along the small palisades that line the Dracozu River. Zelda peeks over the cliff to find the body of water rushing by—wonders what it might be like to pitch herself into it for the quickest, most peculiar of moments. She finds herself wondering if Link would jump headfirst after her, scold her afterwards— and what would that be like? To find herself embroiled in his admonishment? She ponders such a curious thing, temptation flickering in her eyes before she’s shaking the ridiculous thought away.

The river winds and bends, and just as the massive stone monument comes into view, one of the region’s hallmark showers quickly rolls in and sends rain clattering off of the trees, blotting the sun out with pale gray. The horses skid across wet stone as they draw nearer to the Spring. Zelda’s never seen it in person, and the sight of the structure stitches a soft gasp tightly to her larynx—it’s large, ancient stone cut to resemble a serpent’s unhinged jaw. When both sets of leather boots are firmly planted on the slickened ground, Link racks up the horses as Zelda glides through the two, protruding fangs that hang from the structure's mouth.

While Zelda ogles the craftsmanship, Link tends to the housekeeping duties that come with an expedition, and their campsite is fully set up by the time she’s done inspecting the architecture—he’s pitched the small tent that will house her that evening, a safe distance from where the he’s arranged for the campfire to be, and just beyond that, his own bedroll sits unfurled. She wishes he’d let himself stretch out upon it, settle in for a cat nap while she attends to her duties—she knows he won’t; he’ll stand for hours instead, his hands resting on the hilt of the Master Sword while his focus drives hard into whatever looms before him. Sometimes, when she hesitates between beseeching thoughts, she wonders if he ever bends his knees or shakes sleepy limbs out or rolls his neck. Wonders what crosses his mind in the silence—wonders if he ever lets the thoughts grow curious in the ways any normal man might. Heat quickly colors Zelda’s cheeks; what a foolish thought—of course he doesn’t. Link is as much of a statue as the figure set deeply against the spring.

For all of the communication issues between the Princess and her knight attendant, they move fluidly together. Link pulls neatly folded fabric from her pack, her prayer dress nothing but a small patch of cream with gold jewelry perched upon it when he hands it off to her. It’s hardly out of his grasp before he’s wheeling around, offering her as much privacy as he can afford. She doesn’t have to worry, really—she knows he won’t dare to sneak a glance, and yet meadow green eyes affix themselves to his back, run along the slope of his shoulders to see if she can catch a flicker of movement as she trades leather for silk, gloves for golden bracelets. When she’s ready, the Royal Crest up against her throat and inflexible around her wrists, she sets her belongings aside and draws nearer to the water’s edge.

“Well…” she starts with a sigh, her voice reverberating off the stone. “Let’s begin.”

******

Dusk stains the jungle with jagged shadows as the sun dips below the horizon, and Zelda is still waist deep in the tepid waters of the Spring when she hears the first scrape of steel against flint. It only takes a few clicks before a small flame is licking up from a patch of firewood, and she opens her eyes to find space doused in soft saffron, the Goddess statue’s wistful smile now far more sinister beneath the quavering bloom of the campfire.

The last two hours have been lost to the divine thoughts that percolate her mind, but the Goddess ignores every one that Zelda has prepared for her– those same, echoed thoughts that bore no results during the hours already spent in the Temple of Time. Zelda will not admit, not even to Impa once she returns home, that the last few traces of prayer have dissolved into nothing but a series of silent pleas: the Princess of Hyrule ends her session begging for a guidance that’s she expected to have secured long ago, as though it ought to have already been marked in a blueprint of her soul when she first came barreling into the world as nothing but a screaming infant. Perhaps it’s foolish to admit such a thing, but she’s expected this to…well, she’s expected this to work . And yet here she stands, exhausted, her limbs soggy and her dress equally so, with a grumbling stomach that demands attention. She exhales heavily and returns to Link’s side, and he watches her approach with raised eyebrows.

“Nothing,” she says. “Not a single word. It’s peculiar…don’t you think? I truly believed praying here might have helped.” She watches his eyes consider the words and for a moment, she thinks he might actually give voice to a response, but his lips twist in thought and he only shakes his head and shrugs.

“You have full permission to speak to me, you know,” she reminds him, her voice gentle yet firm.

He ducks his head and nods.

Link prepares a dish of mushrooms and simmered fruit that tastes inexplicably sweet and savory and peculiar. The cooking process, however, is less than ideal—the odor leaves a bewildered Zelda pinching her nose as she tries to place some distance between herself and the cooking pot, but the stone mouth of the dragon traps her in the pungent aroma. She politely rejects the dish he tries to hand off to her, but he tries, again and again, and when she declares that she doesn’t mind favoring sleep instead of a meal, he grows persistent.

“It tastes far better than it smells,” Link explains, his soft voice like a crack of thunder and the blue of his eye suddenly as torrential as the shower that splatters against the roof of their lodgings. Pinned beneath his watch, Zelda considers that maybe he really is as handsome as the ladies of the castle claim him to be—no, it must be his kindness that has the tips of her ears burning.

He throws himself before blades and claws to keep her safe–he certainly won’t lie to her about this.

“Alright, then.”

It turns out that he’s right, and for once, she’s relieved to be wrong.

They eat in silence, as anticipated, save for an exclamation that durian tastes much more enjoyable than she’s expected it to. Zelda is far too exhausted to try and coax any genuine conversation from him; she finds herself turning over her pleas to the Goddess again and again, wondering if she misspoke. Wondering if she had done something to cross her long ago, long before the endless evenings of prayer ever came to light, long before that wretched fortune teller bound her to such a devastating prophecy. She wonders what her knight attendant must think of this attempt; her stomach churns when she imagines her father’s expectant face crumbling into distress as she stands before the throne and delivers such news. All lingering traces of hunger drain from her body at the thought.

“Thank you for dinner,” Zelda begins, her voice hardly audible over the small crackle of the campfire. “I appreciate it.”

She thinks Link will choose silence again, but a quick glance at his low lit expression tells her she’s caught him off guard. His lips are parted slightly and his forehead creases. He clears his throat.

“You’re very welcome, Princess.”

A small victory—but it sends drips of warmth down her spine all the same.

“Good night, Sir Link,” she offers politely. She doesn’t wait for a response–she knows she’s unlikely to get one–and if he speaks further, it’s drowned out beyond the flap of canvas that waves in her wake as she disappears into her tent.

*****

The stress of travel weighs so heavily on Zelda’s bones that she cedes to the night’s sleepy call without much protest. Her dream carries her closer to home, across the patch of wetlands, along the peculiar Pillars of Levia, over the settlement of Hateno further east. She finds herself summiting the Dueling Peaks, surveying the land, leaping from the southernmost of the twins and landing neatly in the plains below. Her feet have hardly touched the ground before the world is exploding around her, and when the blurs of blistering heat finally pass and the red skies melt away, there’s nothing but scorched earth left, the steely scent of blood and ash and the ache of shell-shocked limbs as they struggle to shake off hints of paralysis.

She wakes with a sharp gasp, forehead damp from more than just a humid night. Zelda presses a hand to her chest and breathes into her palm. Deep breaths, it’s just a dream. She settles back upon her bedroll and seeks sleep out once more, but the soft rumble of something unfamiliar beyond the tent tugs her up.

Zelda clutches the edge of the bedroll as she cranes startled ears forwards.

It happens again—a low murmur among the jungle’s sleepy trills. Nocturnal voices chitter and hum, but above them all something grumbles: a moan, a sigh. A whine.

Is that…?

It withers away, dissipates into nothing before it’s replaced by the unmistakable rattle of sleep lodged in a throat, a small crackle fraying the edges of his voice before a heavy sigh shoots out from his nostrils. And then, another hum, and the rustle of his bedroll as he moves atop it before another sound breaks free from his drowsy lips. It’s a rather high pitch, Zelda thinks. She's never known her knight’s voice to be stentorian or grandiose in any way, but she doesn’t know what to make of these sounds. She hardly realizes that the corners of her mouth are turning up with glee.

“—oh,” he breathes.

An oh ! Hardly a word, but it will be enough ammunition to tease him with once morning dawns. Perhaps she might convince him to open up with this newfound knowledge. Just a word, she’ll tease before she tries to make him guess just exactly what it is that he whispers into the night. She’s already giddy at the prospect.

Zelda can’t help herself—she wants a visual to help with her recollection in the morning. She pokes her head through the tent’s opening and finds his supine form exactly where she expects him to be, half illuminated upon his bedroll by moonlight streaming in through the slotted stone above. She squints and makes out his fingers twitching gently atop the bedding, his chest rising in a short shudder as his head lolls to the side with a non-committal hum. He inhales sharply through parted lips. A small grunt. And then another word, jagged and delivered as a harsh whisper:

“ F…fuck .”

Zelda nearly chokes on an abrupt gasp before she's clapping a hand across her mouth in shock. It’s spoken so clearly that she’s suddenly panicked that he’s speaking to her directly through the tent. And then she’s panicking for other reasons: first, because the sound of an expletive of all things in her stalwart knight’s tone is more than enough to send distress signals rippling through her body, and second, because it thrills her in a way that her instincts deem as far too unseemly for the Princess of Hyrule. It’s as though he’s taken that scandalous word, traced her lips with it and forced it into her mouth, dangled it on her tongue before pushing it so far down that it anchors itself in the pit of her stomach. She replays the sound in her mind, again and again, and with each repetition the aftershock grows more and more daunting

It’s all over so quickly. The jungle draws to a hush—the creatures of the night must catch wind of her heartbeat pounding against her ribcage. Zelda doesn’t know how long she sits at the tent’s opening, on her knees, waiting for more, and soon his soft breathing—the sleepy inhalations that she actually does recognize— are floating across to her. She can only draw one assumption: her knight has had a rather… indecent dream. Vulgar and whining, crass and needy. Oh Goddess, he is just a man after all, isn’t he? A man with simple needs, primal needs, like any other man. She’s made the mistake of craving his voice and the Goddess has punished her with more than she's bargained for.

Something quickly swells in her, and when it settles, she's left with an unfamiliar thought peering over the edge of her mind, blinking up at her, waiting for her approval before it spills over entirely. Zelda shakes the thought from her head and darts back across the bedroll, but even weighted with sleep something in her body burns, her blood singing her veins and an impending storm rumbling to life inside of her.

No, she will most definitely not be mentioning this in the morning.

#fanfic #loz #legend of zelda #zelink #zelda #link #botw #breath of the wild

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years

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What if Lance was actually able to take the baby with him. Was it easy raising her? Would he have taken Aurelia too?

Please keep in mind that in order for Lance to be able to take the baby with him, baby would have to be Ransom’s….

Aurelia also made the comment if it was Ransom’s baby, she wouldn’t want it

Ransom closes the door to your room, wiping his hands around his mouth with a smirk as he starts to strut down the hall, his image glitching for a split second. Only stopping when Andy meets him in the hall, and pushes him at his chest, “Where’s your minions?” Andy demands, but his eyes drift down to your doorway.

Bring Lightness Back

Summary: what if Lance took the baby

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: mild

Warnings: implied non con, kidnapping, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.6K

Series Masterlist

Ask me a What If on any of my series

“You wouldn’t have wanted my minions with me for this business,” Ransom gives him a smirk, cocking up an eyebrow.

“What are you talking about?”

“She is to become my future wife, Andrew. I had to test it out,” growling, Andy shoves his brother up against the wall, and Ransom leans in closer to him. “You can’t smell her? I get now why you wanted to keep her from me. Sweetest pussy I ever tasted. She may look innocent but the way she rode my dick,” he chuckles when Andy smacks him across the face. “Oh, have you not wondered why she’s been so tired lately? Let me go,” Ransom pushes Andy off him before he continues his journey back, leaving Andy confused.

He runs his finger and thumb over his beard thinking for a moment. Ransom was talking as if you were complicit in everything. With a sigh he heads to your bedroom, seeing you tucked in bed asleep, but when the door closes you look up at him, “I thought you had work to do?”

“What?”

“We…did you come back for more?” You ask sitting up, letting the blanket drop from your chest. They looked fuller since the last time he saw you. He had too much business to attend to with his father, plus finding out more information on you, and it had kept him from you for far too long. “You got a little rough, Andy. Maybe something sweeter this time?”

“Aurelia,” Andy pouts, his lip trembling. “Baby,” he didn’t know if maybe it was best not to say anything. You were naive in not realizing that it was in fact Ransom disguised as himself. He didn’t know how his brother was doing it. But he would be doing you a disservice if you knew.

“Let’s just take a nap.”

“Good, Andy, there’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” you smile, rubbing your hand over your stomach, “I’m with child.”

Stepping closer to you, Andy embraces you in his warm and gentle arms. Kissing over your face. “Take your clothes off, and let’s sleep,” you giggle, crawling back into the bed.

——

You stare down at your giggling boy, your sweet little Alfred reaches his hands up towards you, and you give him a quick boop to his nose. His mouth opens in wonder, and you look out of his bedroom window. Thankful that he was Andy’s and Lance couldn’t take him from you.

“Mommy’s sweet boy, huh?” He squeals, those chubby cheeks jiggling in glee, and when you lean down to kiss him, he grabs at your ears to give you his own messy, drooling kiss. He better be glad he was a sweet little thing, and looked like his father.

You had noticed the feathers from Lance, so knew that he was visiting your son. You often wondered what Lance would think of him. Would he care about him the way that you did? What did Lance plan on doing with your child anyways?

Hearing a soft pound, you look up at your long lost friend, but don’t make a comment to him. “I’ve come to collect the baby.”

“You can’t,” you say with utmost certainty, and when he reaches towards your son, you jerk away from him. “He is my son!”

“And we had a deal.”

“Exactly,” you chuckle, starting to walk around Lance. Circling him as if he was your prey, and Lance laughs at the fact that you think you had him. “Our deal was my first born child with Ransom. Alfie is of Andy’s blood,” Lance tilts his head to the side, trying to reach out again. “He’s not yours!”

Raising his hand above Alfred’s head, your little boy giggles, holding his hands up in anticipation. Lance wiggles his fingers and golden sparkles fall down. Alfred tries catching them, sneezing in the process, “He’s not Andy’s.”

“Yes, he is! This is mine and…”

“He’s not,” he reaches towards him, trying to take him from you, touching on his skin, “If he was Andy’s, he would be protected from me trying to take him. This is Ransom’s son.”

“No. I never…I never laid down with Ransom. I’ve only been with Andy. You’re lying!” Another demon appears, and you walk backwards out of the room. “Lance, what did you bring to me?”

“Give him the baby,” you shake your head no, holding onto Alfred tighter. “Lance wasn’t the only one making deals,” twisting his hand back, he looks at his nails, feigning disinterest. “Ransom made a few with me. On more than one occasion it was to look like Andy. Guess he wanted to feel that heat between your legs, considering your unfaithful ass is to be married to him. That is Ransom’s son.”

“You’re lying!”

“Lance, I’m tired of these games. Take the baby,” he flies off, leaving you to beg and plead to Lance. Sobbing how everyone was lying, and you didn’t want to lose your son. Andy’s son. He always treated Alfred like his own. Held him while you slept.

“Lance, don’t. He’s mine and…”

“He’s Ransom’s. Give me what you offered,” you shake your head no, screaming when he takes the baby from you anyways. “I’m sorry, but this is the deal. Your debt has been paid,” you see a bit of golden shine surround your baby's fingers as he screams up at Lance.

“Lance, don’t! He’s mine! I carried him in my belly. I pushed him out of my body. You saw! He’s mine please, don’t!” You scream as Lance flies out of your window, and you sink to the floor. He took him. Alfred was born of Ransom, but also of magic.

Your eyes darken as you look out the window, and rise up off the floor. Fists clenched by your side, you didn’t care that he was born of Ransom. He was yours.

“What is he doing?” Lance asks as Alfred shakes his hand, that same golden glow surrounding his hands. “Chase?”

“He’s a fucking halfbreed.”

“What?”

“Aurelia was born of magic. Ransom had a spell on him, and every part of his body, including his cum. Now we have this fucking mutt. Not quite human and not quite fae,” Alfred screams with such a high pitch that Chase covers his ears. “Halfbreed!”

“Mama!” He wails, making grabby hands towards the window, “Dada!”

“You don’t even know who your father is, you twit!”

“Dada!” The glow surrounding his hands gets larger, and Lance places him down on the floor. “Dada!”

“You are a mutt!”

“Dada!”

“I should take him back, right?” Chase shouts no, looking at his brother, but Alfred was crawling steadily towards Chase. Still growling out Dada as he moves closer to him.

“Get it away!”

“Dada!”

“Maybe you should quit taunting him, and admit that Andy is his father.”

“Ransom is that thing’s father.”

“Dada!” He sits up, shaking his fists, as the glow surrounds his body. “My Dada!” He screams out as his glow bursts all around him.

“Andy!” You shout, looking towards the distance. An odd golden glow shines around an area. “That’s him. That’s our baby. He…I told you his hands were doing something weird. That’s him.”

“Let’s go,” Andy pulls on Walter’s reins leading him to wherever the glow was coming from and the closer you get the more you hear your distressed son, but also Lance.

“I know,” he coos down at Alfred, his burst of golden whatever making it impossible for him to calm down. “You did good though, look at Chase. He’s out cold.”

“Dada!” The baby cries, his mouth in a permanent frown. “My Dada!”

“When you calm down, I will take you back. Your mom’s debt has been paid. I took you, now I can return you.”

“Give her the baby,” Andy growls as he walks through the hideout’s entrance. You walk closer to Lance, but he doesn’t resist. Even smiles up at you.

“Dadadadadadadada! My dada,” your baby claps his hands looking at Andy. “My dada!”

“Yes, darling,” you gleefully tell him, as Lance freely hands him over. “That is your daddy.”

Lance gives Andy a deep bow, before kneeling down completely, “I pledge fealty to you, the one and true king of Palmona. A debt has been paid, and the King’s illness has completely taken over. Kind King Andrew, you will not reach him before he passes. And you must know, your son, he’s extraordinary.”

“What are you talking about?” Andy demands to know, lowering his sword.

“Never trust faeries, My Lord. Never make bargains with faeries. You have been the only one in the castle that did not. You are the true king.”

“You won’t hurt my wife and son?” Lance shakes his head no, but points over to Chase. “I should kill him?”

“No, he’s slowly dying himself. Becoming corrupt. His heart, and veins are blackened as much as his soul. He feeds off chaos, and he’s growing famished from the lack of chaos. If you kill me, he lives. If we join together, his death is inevitable. Ransom has been keeping him fed and fat with chaos,” you give Lance a quick shake of your head. You didn’t want Andy to think anything less of your precious baby. He was Alfred’s father.

“Fine,” Andy completely sheaths his sword. I don’t want to kill fae. You are to be the guard for my son and wife. And Together, we will bring lightness back to Palmona.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @peaches1958 @whimsyplaty92 @xcaptain-winterx @bambamwolf87 @lavender-annd-lilac @feyfantome @smile1318 @royalwritersoftheuniverses @andydrysdalerogers

#rumplestilskin #rumplestilskin what if #what if #andy barber #prince!andy barber #andy barber x reader #prince!andy barber x reader #andy barber x fem!reader #prince!andy barber x you #andy barber x you #prince!andy barber x y/n #andy barber x y/n #prince!andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fics #andy barber fic #ransom drysdale #lance tucker #chase collins

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taleswritten · 1 year

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Under the cut is a list of muses I have for those who can’t open the google doc. Note: the google doc has detailed information about them so if you can, please open it up.

Bold is primary, italic is secondary, regular is by request.

TVD/TO/LEGACIES:

ELENA GILBERT

KATHERINE PEIRCE

DAMON SALVATORE

ALARIC SALTZMAN

LIZZIE SALTZMAN

josie saltzman

caroline forbes

bonnie bennett

Klaus Mikaelson

FINAL FANTASY:

CLOUD STRIFE (ff7r)

aeirth (ff7 remake)

tifa (ff7 remake)

Jill Warrick (ff16)

Clive Rosfield (ff16)

snow villiers

THIRTEEN REASON’S WHY:

Justin Foley

Bryce Walker

Jessica Davis

Clay Jenson

911/911 LONE STAR:

ATHENA GRANT

MADDIE BUCKLEY

OWEN STRAND

TK STRAND

GRACE RYDER

AHS:

Brooke Thompson

Montanna Duke

donovan

BBC SHERLOCK:

SHERLOCK HOLMES

BRIDGERTON:

Simon Bassett

Daphne Bridgerton

kate sharma/bridgerton

Penelope Featherington

BTVS/ATS

Buffy Summers

CORDELIA CHASE

CAOS:

SABRINA SPELLMAN

ONE CHICAGO:

natalie manning

JAY HALSTEAD

ADAM RUZEK

KIM BURGESS

Hank Voight

CRIMINAL MINDS:

Spencer Reid

Emily Prentiss

DAREDEVIL:

MATT MURDOCK

DEXTER:

DEXTER MORGAN

DCTV:

SARA LANCE

JOHN CONSTANTINE

SPOONER

EUPHORIA:

JULES VAUGHN

RUE BENNETT

FROM DUSK TIL DAWN:

Seth Gecko

Kate Fuller

GOOD GIRLS:

BETH BOLAND

Greys’ Anatomy:

meredith grey

JO WILSON

CARINA DELUCA

Ameila Shepard

GAME OF THRONES:

DANY

Jon Snow

Sansa Stark

NCB HANNIBAL:

WILL GRAHAM

HAUNTING OF BLY MANNER:

DANI CLAYTON

PETER QUINT

HEMLOCK GROVE

PETER RUMANCEK

HTGAWM:

CONNOR WALSH

LAW AND ORDER SVU:

OLIVIA BENSON

Elliot Stabler

kathleen stabler

alex cabot

casey novak

LOST GIRL:

BO DENNIS

LUCIFER:

CHLOE DECKER

lucifer morningstar

mazikeen

MINDHUNTER:

Holden Ford

POSE:

ANGEL EVANGALISTA

BLANCA EVANGALISTA

PRODIGAL SON:

MALCOLM BRIGHT

RIVERDALE:

ARCHIE ANDREWS

BETTY COOPER

TONI TOPAZ

CHERYL BLOSSOM

FP Jones

JUGHEAD JONES

ROSWELL NEW MEXICO:

MAX EVANS

LIZ ORTECHO

STRANGER THINGS:

NANCY WHEELER

BILLY HARGROVE (BILLY’S TATTOOS POST SEASON THREE HERE )

STATION 19:

Vic Hughes

SUPERNATURAL:

Dean Winchester

THE MAGICIANS:

ELIOT WAUGH

MARGO HANSON

THE WITCHER (GAME, TV SHOW, AND BOOK MIXED MEDIA):

GERALT (please note, geralt has cat-eyes. not the eyes we see in the show. if you need a visual, think game geralt)

CIRI

TRUE BLOOD:

SOOKIE STACKHOUSE

TARA THORTON

jessica hamby

JASON STACKHOUSE

SAM MERLOTTE

WYNONNA EARP:

WYNONNA EARP

WAVERLY EARP

NICOLE HAUGHT

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY:

KLAUS HARGREEVES

ALLISON HARGREEVES

VAN HELSING:

Vanessa Van Helsing

YOU:

BECK

JOE GOLDBERG

LOVE QUINN

THEO

FORTY QUINN

DCU:

WONDER WOMAN/DIANA PRINCE

HARLEY QUINN (au verse 1 here)

DESCENDANTS:

HARRY HOOK

MAL BERTHA

EVIE GRIMHILDE

MCU:

DEADPOOL/WADE WILSON

EDDIE BROCK/VENOM

STEVE ROGERS/CAPTAIN AMERICA

WANDA MAXIMOFF

BUCKY BARNES

NATASHA ROMANOFF

YELENA BELOVA

THOR

LOKI

MICHAEL MORBIUS

Peter Parker (the amazing spiderman)

POTC:

CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW

ASSASSIN’S CREED SERIES:

JACOB FRYE

EVIE FRYE

EIVOR

KASSANDRA

DETRIOT BECOME HUMAN:

Connor

DRAGON AGE:

MORRIGAN

FENRIS

GARRETT HAWKE

MARIAN HAWKE

CYBERPUNK:

V (both male and v, both streetkid and corpo)

JOHNNY SILVERHAND

JUDY ALVAREZ

LAST OF US:

joel miller

ELLIE

LEGEND OF ZELDA:

LINK

RESIDENT EVIL:

ADA WONG

LEON KENNEDY (previously traumamade)

ETHAN WINTERS

LADY DIMITRESCU

Claire Redfield

dimitrescu daughters

TOMB RAIDER:

LARA CROFT

UNCHARTED:

NATHAN DRAKE

BLEACH:

ichigo kurosaki

GRIMMJOW JAEGERJAQUEZ

VAMPYR:

JOHNATHAN REID

BLACK BUTLER:

SEBASTIAN MICHAELIS

BLUE EXORCIST

RIN OKAMARU

HELLSING:

SERAS VICTORIA

INTEGRA HELLSING

NARUTO:

NARUTO UZUMAKI

TSUNADE

SEVEN DEADLY SINS:

BAN

VAMPIRE KNIGHT:

yuuki cross/kuran

ZERO KIYRUU

OUAT:

Regina Mills

Emma Swan

SOA:

JAX TELLER

VENUS

GEMMA TELLER

WHITE COLLAR:

Neal Caffrey

FAR CRY:

FAITH SEED

NEW AMSTERDAM:

MAX GOODWIN

CRUELLA:

CRUELLA DE VILLE

MASS EFFECT:

JOHN SHEPARD

JANE SHEPARD

KAIDAN

SAMARA

KASUMI

MIRANDA

DOCTOR WHO:

rose tyler

GOSSIP GIRL REBOOT:

ZOYA LOTT

MAX WOLFE

DOOM PATROL:

JANE

LARRY TRAINOR

A WAY OUT:

LEO CARUSO

CASTLE:

RICHARD CASTLE

BITTEN:

ELENA MICHAELS

TEEN WOLF:

CHRIS ARGENT

ALLISON ARGENT

SCOTT MCCALL

LYDIA MARTIN

STILES STILINSKI

THE FLASH:

BARRY ALLEN

NORA WEST ALLEN

BART WEST ALLEN

IRIS WEST

CAITLYN SNOW

KILLER FROST

SUCKERPUNCH

BABY DOLL

SHADOW HUNTERS

ISABELLE

ALEC

HOUSE OF ASHES

JASON

THE MEDIUM

MARIANNE

THE LAST KINGDOM

UHTRED RAGNARSON

Iseult

MOON KNIGHT

STEVEN GRANT/MARC

FIRST KILL

Calliope Burns

Juliette Fairmont.

THE QUARRY

Kaityln Ka

Dylan Lenivy

Laura Kearny

THE SANDMAN

Dream/Morpheus

INTEVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE

Louis De Pointe

Claudia

HORIZON SERIES

Aloy

THE VAMPIRE ACADEMY (TV SERIES)

Rose Hathaway

NETFLIX’S WEDNESDAY

Wednesday Addams

Morticia Addams

Enid Sincliar

DAYS GONE

Deacon St. John

QUEEN CHARLOTTE - A BRIDGERTON STORY

Queen Charlotte

MAYFAIR WITCHES

Rowan Fielding

Critical Role (currently caught up to episode 97 and both seasons of the animated show)

Vax

Vex

Keylith

THE EVIL WITHIN

Sebastian

Baldur's Gate 3:

Astarion

Karlach

Orin

Hazbin Hotel:

Angel Dust

Charlie Morningstar

Niffty

Alastor

Outlander:

Claire Fraser

#mobile muse list

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justadumbasskid · 11 months

Text

Strap in, Rimmers. This is a longpost.

At the end of the time of Valley Station, I wanted an entirely new spin on the last colony I was about to build in my pursuit of the Archonexus. I would call this one Artifact Plains. Set on a cold, flat grassland biome up near the North Pole of this planet.

With scarce building materials, I set myself up in the ancient danger as a temporary camp, looting the surrounding ruins for supplies and buildings like the heater. The bugs inside were swiftly dealt with, dying to Volz's charge sniper rifle and Mei's monosword. In the fighting, the cryptosleep tombs were damaged and automatically opened. I do not plan on keeping any of the wayward souls that emerged.

Inside the hermetic crate was a persona eltex lance called Naga, I gave her to Fuller.

The ancient danger quickly grew into more than just a temporary camp, but it was still quite shabby as a barracks, a workshop, a warehouse, a rec room, and a laboratory all in one. (I got all the Archotech eyes and synthetic hearts when Mei killed a bunch of bionic thrumbos and we butchered them)

Such compactness was necessary as I began work on what would be the final grand temple to the Archonexus. It's so hard creating circles in RimWorld without mods, this is actually an oval. It's slightly stretched upwards.

As the Long Winter set in, I began to expand on the temple structure even more. I planned that this would be a very communal type of colony. With huge rooms serving multiple purposes in loosely-divided areas. Geothermal power plants would provide heat and power on every corner, and the "inner sanctum" of the structure would hold smaller structures. Like a Mechanitor laboratory, shrine, hospital, travel hub, and courtyard.

Such plans were quickly dashed as I checked the quest tab and realized I already had the wealth to pursue the Archonexus. Hm...

It's a bit demoralizing. This is my holy mission, so I can't just ignore it. But it's just demoralizing how all of my colonies get smaller and less grand than the one before it. All my pawns are so good and so augmented that they are worth forty times the price of an un-augmented pawn, and they work at four times the speed while needing half of the sleep, food, and recreation.

At the same time, though, I was getting a bit bored, and was ready to wash my hands of this playthrough. So, for old time's sake. Here's First Factory, Valley Station, and Artifact Plains compared to one another.

#rimworld #ending #praise be the archonexus #long post

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blueikeproductions · 1 year

Text

Heathers AU hypothetical voice cast

I’ve always pictured my AU as being an animated version of events with extra bits to make it fresh.

The voice cast I generally had in mind for the preexisting cast was the majority of the original off Broadway cast reprising their roles like Barret Weed as Veronica and Ryan MacCartan as JD in particular because they’re the ones I’m most familiar with.

Some alterations, with ideally some of the original movie cast returning in guest roles:

Westerberg principal Gowan played by Andre Braugher

Mrs. Sawyer played by Winona Ryder

Mr. Kelly played by Lance Fenton

Mrs. Sweeney played by Shannon Doherty

Mr. Sweeney played by Patrick Labyorteaux

Betty Finn played by Grace Victoria Cox

Tracey played by Sophia Anne Caruso

Bud Dean played by Kurt Fuller

Alex Brightman as Father Ripper (mostly to retain a coincidental Beetlejuice connection and because Beetlejuice himself being the Father is funny to me)

Original cast:

Dan Braverman played by Landon McDonald

Specs played by Nicolas Roye

Jamie played by Brandon Mychal Smith

Voice Inside Your Head played by Christian Slater

Throttle played by James Scully

Thrash played by Omar Miller

Mrs. Braverman played by Candi Milo

Mr. Braverman played by Josh Brener

Cheryl Rodgers played by Grey DeLisle

Bud Sr. played by Maurice LaMarche

Jocelyn Dean played by Lisanne Falk

Kara Sweeney played by Christina Vee

#heathers #heathers fanfic #heathers headcanons #heathers au #heathers oc #heathers the movie #heathers the series #heathers the musical #heathers 1989 #blueike productions

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oschvank · 1 year

Text

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓

{Basics}

Name: Nelliel Tu Oderschvank

Alias: Only a select few can call her Nel.

Gender: Female

Age: Looks around mid-late twenties.

Species: Arrancar

Zodiac: aquarius / aries / cancer / capricorn / gemini / leo / libra / pisces / sagittarius / scorpio / taurus / virgo / unknown

Abilities/Talents: Her existence.

{Personal}

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion: --

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: English, Japanese, Spanish, Nahuatl

Family: Deceased.

Friends: Few, but close

Sexual Orientation: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual (in the ace spectrum) / unsure / questioning / other

Relationship status: single / dating / married / widowed / open relationship / other

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

{Physical}

Build: twig / bony / slender / average / athletic / curvy / chubby / obese

Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other

Eyes: brown / blue / green / black / other

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / very brown / other

Height: under 3 foot / 3-4 foot / 4-5 foot / 5-6 foot / 6-7 foot / above 7 foot

Weight: under 100 pounds / 100-150 pounds / 150-200 pounds / 200-250 pounds / above 250 pounds

Scars: Scar going down her forehead, across down of her mask. Many other battle scars littered around her body.

Facial Features: Fuller bottom lip, downward slanted eyes, red mark across nose bridge.

Tattoos: '3' on her back.

{Choose}

Dogs or Cats? None

Birds or Hamsters?

Red or Blue?

Yellow or Green?

Black or White?

Coffee or Tea?

Ice Cream or Cake?

Fruits or Vegetables?

Sandwich or Soup?

Magic or Melee?

Sword or Bow? Lance

Summer or Winter?

Spring or Autumn?

The Past or The Future?

tagged by: @burdenedreverance thank u ! tagging: you!

#games.

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

Text

An exciting walk

So, dear @laurfilijames...here goes the first part of this little story! I hope you'll enjoy!

Words: 1,3 k

Warnings: dog copulation, injury, seduction

“I swear,” Elle hissed warningly at the devious monstrosity – pretending adamantly to be a young dog – wriggling at the end of the state-of-the-art leash she had bought only a few days ago after the previous one had been mysteriously chewed to bits. “If you don’t behave this time, I’m going to sell you to a sausage-maker.”

She would, of course, do no such thing, but – having tried compliments and outright blackmail – Elle was willing to give threats, however empty they might have been, a try.

The cheerful bitch, barely out of her puppyhood, wagged her tail in a deceiving show of feigned innocence; unfortunately for both mistress and pet, there was a considerable lapse of time that had to be observed before one of them could be safely spayed. Elle was relieved that it was not her – there really was no need for any such intervention – and her pity made her look a little kindlier on the antics of Emerald, the hellhound.

As she led the elegant, long-limbed beast outside, Elle mused about how much more luck her dog would have had – if Elle had let her – to find a mate; indeed, Emerald’s fur shimmered in all the warm shades of autumn comfort – vivid browns marbled with distinguished hues of pearl and cream – and her pleading, dark eyes could have made a rock melt.

She was a gorgeous dog, and she never grew tired of hearing random people and kind friends alike saying so.

If she was completely honest, Elle – far from being a guileless woman herself – also understood the heat that plagued her poor pet only too well; she herself had been secretly yearning for the tender attentions of a potential mate often lately, but – unlike the shameless animal – she could hardly go wriggle her ass into the face of every halfway eligible candidate.

Moreover, humans were unfortunately a little pickier on average when it came to those things.

With a sigh, she resigned herself to staving of Emerald’s potential suitors before returning home to a cup of hot chocolate and a romantic movie.

She was almost down the newly built road on either side of which houses seemed to pop out of the ground like mushrooms when Emerald suddenly wrenched her forward violently. Utterly unprepared for such an unexpected onset of naughtiness, Elle was dragged along for longer than she normally would have and, when her foot caught on the yet uneven pavement, she felt her ankle twist as if in slow-motion.

“No,” she cried, but the pain turned her authoritative order into a pathetic whimper.

To her surprise, her outburst was echoed by a much deeper, fuller voice just before she collided with a warm and surprisingly soft wall.

“Oh, I am so sorry, Miss,” the voice said, and then strong arms were slung around her tottering body; Elle let go of the leash tethering her to the unruly bitch and looked up into a pair of azure blue, deeply worried eyes twinkling beautifully over a strong nose and a sensitive mouth surrounded by a golden beard.

Aware of how indecently she was pressed against him, she tried to take a step back and winced when pain lanced through her injured ankle.

“Woah, slow down,” he said quickly, extending his arm and catching her around the waist once more.

For a long moment, they just stared – amazed and dumbfounded – at each other until the sound of frantic canine tongues in action drew their attention back to the reason for their unfortunate meeting.

“Ori? Down,” the man barked hopelessly, tugging in turn on a broad leather lead. “Is your bitch in heat?”

Elle blinked in confusion; his voice was so mesmerizing that she licked her lips in awe even as she struggled to make sense of his words.

“Yes,” she then exclaimed in alarm and looked down, only to discover Emerald already being vigorously mounted by a visibly enthusiastic dog. “Oh no,” she sighed, knowing full well that it would be ill-advised to separate them now as it was probably too late anyway.

“Ori, you nasty bugger,” the man ground out not without sympathy. Then, still holding Elle in his firm grip, he informed her that he lived in the house right behind him. “Do you want to come in and let me see to the ankle? I’ll close the gate…” he chuckled. “Not that I think that they’d go anywhere. This might take a while.”

It was only then that Elle realised that she was standing in the neatly fenced-off front garden of a prim little cottage. “I am so sorry,” she mumbled, leaning into his offered warmth and support a little more eagerly. “I thought the worst was over.”

She gave the male – still rutting – a cursory but appreciative glance; proud and exceedingly cute, the dog was of a golden russet colour with a funny, curled tail.

“What’s the lady’s name? I shall get them my best vintage of Château Robinet,” the man smiled. “My name is Fíli by the way.”

“I'm Elle and the lucky lady is Emerald,” she replied softly. “You’re a real romantic, huh?”

“Very,” Fíli promised and promptly lifted her into his arms to carry her inside. “You stay here,” he ordered, spreading out a fluffy, quilted blanket over her legs before rummaging through his freezer in search of an icepack for her ankle. None was found and Elle had to content herself with a bag of frozen pasta with tomato sauce.

As promised, he also brought out a bowl of water for the dogs so they might refresh themselves after their amorous intermezzo and then immediately returned to Elle, gently lifting her foot into his lap as he sat down on the coffee table in front of her.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked while his broad thumbs rubbed soothing circles into her tender flesh.

“I’ll live,” she said with a shrug, increasingly fascinated by his good looks and gracious smiles. “Thank you for letting me rest here for a bit.”

“They’ll be tied for a hot minute,” Fíli commented light-heartedly, “and – depending on our luck – we’ll soon have to co-parent a litter of funny-looking puppies.” His tone didn’t sound as if he was opposed to the idea and his smile grew ever brighter. “I can’t wait to see Ori’s face.”

“The dog?” Elle asked with a burst of choked laughter.

“What? No,” Fíli chuckled in turn. “No, we named the ginger Casanova after a friend of mine. Not that the actual human namesake would ever get that lucky to have a pretty lady barrel into him. Ah, trumped by a dog, what a sad destiny for my old friend.”

Mischief and yearning flared in Elle’s chest at those words, but first she had to ascertain who he meant when he so confidently said “we”.

“Huh?” Fíli looked up from her foot. “Oh, my brother and I. We’re very close and he’s incredibly vexed that I moved out.”

He has a brother, Elle thought with a wave of entirely uncalled-for relief, but he had not brought up a housemate, romantic or otherwise.

“Aren’t you also being upstaged by your dog? At least one Ori is getting some action,” Elle purred and looked up at him innocently from under dense, fluttering lashes.

“I have a little more style than that,” Fíli grinned, letting his ready, effortless charm engulf her like a wave of pure heat. “While on the subject, can I offer you something to drink?”

With a puzzled nod, Elle watched him stride back into his sparsely stocked kitchen where he lifted a bottle of chilled wine and inquisitively; again, her silly head bobbed up and down mutely.

“So, dear Elle,” Fíli then smirked as he brought over two exquisite glasses, “what else can I do to make you feel more comfortable?”

Love you lots!!

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien #Modern!AU #Hobbit #dogs #Fíli #Fíli x OC #Ori the dog #Ori the Akita #bitch in heat #minors DNI #prompts and requests

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