#unf cadence

[fever-project]

I'm stoked for Uncanon Fates!!!!! Always good to see the noncanon Link's get attention! 🥹 Curious, if you're okay with sharing, which Link's are going to be in this AU?

Thank you so much! I’m okay with sharing most of the Links-and most of the non-Link cast that will show up eventually. I’m just keeping 3 of them a secret for now.

Here are the first batch of Links(8 of them) + two others we’ll meet and some info:

Rinku - mid-20s to early-30s, he lost count while in prison - he/him - First Hero: Basically the main character of this story, but we won’t focus on only his POV, just mainly on him since he’s kinda the reason this whole mess started. He generally doesn’t like people(he’s got some trust issues)but he’s always somewhat polite to new people.

Sir Raven - 26ish - he/thon but they/them is fine - From the OoA manga: That’s right I’m making a Link. Don’t call him that though, he won’t answer. He’s a bit of a goofy and mysterious guy in the manga. I’m making him more mysterious and goofy. He has the magical rings from that game as well, his favorite is the Green Ring. He’s also bad at keeping track of time.

Calli - 18.4 - he/maybe they??/maybe she????(he’s still trying to figure stuff out) - Age of Calamity: He can’t speak and and tries to come off as emotionless, but his personality still shines through his blank exterior. He’s cooked a lot before, but it wasn’t until after the war he’s tried to make it an actual hobby, because he never really had much of those before.

Trill - never ask a fairy her age - she/her - Cadence of Hyrule: She’s CoH!Link’s best friend and an assist fairy. She used to assist him with speaking-and the whole Assist Mode in the actual game-but since he doesn’t need that anymore, she chooses to help Calli with speaking instead.

Cadence - 16 - he/him - Cadence of Hyrule: He’s a bit quiet, but can talk on his own when needed. He can’t be killed-although he can die of old age-and will not let anyone know of this fact. For now. He also has a large hoard of diamonds on hand, and will jump at the opportunity to get more.

Kori - 15.25 - he/him - The CD-i games: Can not stand reflective surfaces for a multitude of reasons, only goes near bodies of water if he knows it’s safe. Does not tell anybody about this. He’s very cheerful and friendly, and has picked out most of the other Links’ nicknames by himself. His winged helm hides his eyes, which look quite uncanny to those that see them.

Cart - 15.23 - he/him - The Zelda Cartoon: Not as bad as in the actual cartoon. Somewhat lazy when it comes to anything other than heroing, flirting with Zelda, and napping. Complains a lot. Just generally insufferable, as teens kinda are. The universe will not allow him to swear, even though he really wants to. Somehow best friends Kori.

King Gustaf - 46 give or take a few years - he/him - The Minish Cap: There’s this fan theory that King Gustaf was actually the Hero of Men in the MC, which is what I’m going with for Uncanon Fates. He’s very wise, but also the most excited about this whole thing. It’s been decades since he’s done anything adventurous. He loves making new friends. He’s one of the first kings of Hyrule, and also holds the Light Force, also known as the Triforce of Wisdom.

Triforce of Wisdom - as old as the land itself i guess - does not care is literally a magical prism - Cartoon Zelda+CD-i games(at least the first two): Yeah I’m making the triforce talk. Less rhyming but still gives out vague advice. Currently in the king’s possession. Kori and Cart flock to him like birds.

Linkku - around 19 mentally, he’s basically a demigod he can live for a long time - they/he - Ancient Hero from TotK: Can’t say much about what he does in the comic, but I can tell you a bit of the made up backstory I made up. They’re Rauru and Sonia’s son and are being raised by a surviving Zonai and a Gerudo. Lesbians. His adventure mainly consisted of trying better the relationships between the Hylians and the Gerudo and fighting off what currently remained of Ganon’s evil magic.

After the first two-three-maybe even four if I feel like the characters aren’t fleshed out enough-chapters are done, they’ll be meeting some of the Hyrule Warriors cast-HW Link and Linkle will be the only Links there-who will be first briefly introduced in an interlude, and then the 3 Links I mentioned before at the start will come in and make you feel things. Impa, Zelda, and another character will also be there. That’s it for now, thanks for the ask.

[elkian]

Listening to HG Wells' Time Machine on the way to work and there's something very moving about laughing aloud at words written literal centuries ago.

[yohohonabottle]

| The "Damoiseau" - Project "Harbringer" I

Sorry for 2nd P.O.V. It's through the eyes of an employee that worked on this experiment with the other Quicksand Claw and Adamant Syndicates. ..Or could be a different person, stumbling onto the aftermath..

Soren's voice is...somehow mellowed out, still a countertenor or mild baritone but it sounds.... calm. Maybe even jovial, if you focus reaaally close on his tone, which is gentle and soft, mesmerizingly so. But so.... just something's off. Not right. ..Maybe the pitch? Or timbre? Cadence? A tiny flickering touch of.. feminine? No, that's not it either. It's a little hard to pinpoint what is it exactly. But this is just too calm, even for him, for his 'silent fury' as his title speaks.

The song is, hypnotizing, ever so very subtly beginning to almost..loose this unnerving calm. It draws, beckons ever closer, promises no more pain. Rest. A lullaby...

And then you get closer, drawn in by the song.. To see Soren,

sat on a rock or piece of camp debris with a very soft, gentle smile of sere tranquility and subtle playfulness like his song, his tone. Maybe even leaning, hunched over as if protecting something.

With a head cleanly cut off of a goon-- Could be a Quicksand claw, a syndicate, a researcher of the low-hanging small fry or the instigators that were in charge of the operation to begin with...held, cradled in his hands, eyes closed. Not the rage, fire, aggression you'd expect to see from him, knowing the bear and his fighting styles. How loud and brash, and short-fused he is, how....nimble, restless he is, always moving--Like how the young Mauler did moments prior to the ritual, pacing in his cage and kicking at the bars. Trying to break the door down, yelling and rattling, looking for a way out.

And he doesn't seem bothered by your presence. No. It's like he knew you'd come, stumble upon him and the signs of destruction.

Desolation, decimation he has brought to this camp all on his own. There's simply no other explanation for all of this, this... Silence. Stillness, not a soul in sight and the camp in shreds, smithereens yet somehow paradoxically untouched with nothing a miss, smashed and broken, ripped or out of place. .....It's like a plague has swept through, over the whole campsite like a powder cloud, avalanche. What happened to those caught up in it is, unknown. As though those people simply disappeared, no sign of them or struggle and combat, no traces. Where are they?

The teenager only keeps singing that lullaby.... Peaceful. Completely peaceful.

....Wait a second, is that.. a spine? A.. thorn? Multiple thorns? Or spears?? Amber...? Or is it fire-like ice? Crystallized, frozen blood? And in them.. silhouettes? Bodies? People trapped inside, frozen? -Or is it just imagination? Fatigue? Are those, small swords around behind his back, a ring...of spines? Their tips point outward- Will- o- the wisps? And did they just glitch?? Turn to ones of blood just now with this 'shutter'??? What are these ever so thin, near invisible threads??! ...Like the threads and sewing needle..

They're gone.

Were they even there at all to begin with.....?

And if he's asleep.. then why does it feel like a thousand glaring eyes gaze at you without blinking, from all sides? The sides, the top, below.... What's with that smile? Why's the Mauler smiling like this-?

Is that white...streaks in his hair, his fur? Did he just flicker--Distort--Glitch??!

The lullaby remains sweetly soothing, not the smallest waver.

But the scrutiny, the judgement doesn't go away. Nor do the chills seeping deep beneath skin and sinew, and bones.

Soren remains as he is, where he is....... The cold is so deep, it burns, beyond teeth-chattering.

Deciding, evaluating... Something.

"You won't live."

What...? It's not even a threat or warning. It's acknowledgement, unfretted.

A simple statement, in that same voice.

The glares, the eyes don't go away, they press down from all around like a cage, and something's taking hold of your limbs, slinking up like a vine-- Fast. He's gone- He's gone- Where did he go-Where's he- A flash, a blink-

-two russet-brown eyes with slitted pupils alight in red glow bore into yours, the smile in them clearer than day, curious shamelessly so as if child-like yet obviously know what he's doing. Flecks of black, light auburn, molten silver in them that shouldn't be, a glitch, nor should they be full red..so dark, that it's like staring into pools of spilt blood. So dark, that they're near black as night, pupils impossible to distinguish, but you know stare at you.

The same serene tone, same calm smile. Not a waver. The words of comfort, consolation a knell.

The song echoes still, but Soren's no longer humming nor singing it aloud...

..It's like someone else hums, sings in his stead, yet the voice and tone is all the same..

"You won't suffer, anymore."

Don't be afraid, It's okay.

It won't hurt.

It's been so long..hasn't it...? The last time you've felt truly at ease, at peace, safe, alive-- free. No burdens, no pains, no fears nor worries, no expectations and pressures...

You've earned it,

Rest.

The project 'Damoiseau', is a success, the two woven together into one. The soul-extraction and binding, infusion complete. Where Soren ends, and where that spirit begins---merged into one mind, one heart, one body, one consciousness....

And, with time, the stitched -sown together conjoined 'twins', will finish melting and molding into one singular.

Total

whole.

The camp slumbers in silence, not a soul in sight.

The price has been paid in full. The transgression accounted for. All parties involved have attained what they've sought.

[uncanon-fates]

Uncanon Fates Masterpost

What is Uncanon Fates About?

Uncanon Fates is a Links Meet AU where Links that are either not part of the canon timeline, or are not expanded upon in the canon timeline are included. The original Hero’s Spirit, the First Hero, somehow drifts into a dark part of the Sacred Realm, messing up the Threads of Time. Many heroes get displaced in the process, and a mysterious Three-Eyed-Goddess sends the First Hero into her realm, to help aid the other heroes. But things won’t stay contained to her realm for long, as the threads strum on, and on, and on…

Important things to note about Uncanon Fates

No consistency in update time due to life. I am but 1 person, I cannot update every week even though I would love to do that.

All Links are on the aro and/or ace spectrum, and some are also queer in other ways as well. All Links do go by he/him, and some might have other pronouns as well. But he/him pronouns are a safe choice to use for any Link here.

No Linkshipping. It just doesn’t make sense for most Links to be into each other. Some aren’t interested in romance and some already have romantic partners. There are more reasons, but I think y’all understand that I just don’t want the Links to be shipped.

PG 13~ish

Temporary character death happens more than once. Rinku is already destined to die so. Yeah. But that won’t happen anytime soon :)

Other characters that aren’t Links will appear, such as but not limited to: fairies, Zelda, and Impa. The focus will be on the Links.

Character Refs

Rinku - Sir Raven - Cali - Cadence+Trill - Kori - Cart - King Gustaf - Linkku - Captain War - Linkle - Impa - Marin - Commander Zelda - Three Eyed Goddess - … - … - … | #unf character ref

Comic Begins

Prelude

Chapter One - Links Abound | 1+2 | 3 | 4+5 | 6+7 | 8+9 | ……

Chapter Two - The First Challenge | ……

Chapter Three - Dungeon Delve | ……

Chapter ……

Miscellaneous

Fanart(exploding I’m exploding into a million pieces ehehe)

Sir Raven(+other Links from other AUs) | Sir Raven(+other Links from other AUs)(another one!!) | … | #uncanon fanart

Doodles and more

Cali’s clothes and headshot | Scarf Creature War | Sir Raven panel redraw| … | #uncanon doodles

Asks

Info about the main Links |#uncanon asks …

Before I settled on a comic idea drawings

Kori ref

Cadence ref

First Hero drawing

Practice Comic

lovely dividers by @/cafekitsune

[jyou-no-sonoko19]

.

...."She’s going cold turkey from being bad." .

[radiowallet]

I love them so so much. Just the way they have this lived in life together. They have a rhythm together, a soft cadence that feels cozy and warm. And the way they can still have fun together. Unf. I just love them so so much. Also --

You couldn’t put it into words what is so attractive to you about the motion, but it is. Christ, it is.

^ Same, Girl. Same.

The Morning

Din Djarin x f!reader, TMTC Universe

Rating: explicit, breeding kink

—

“You go on ahead, Kid. I’ve gotta mend something on the coop before I go.” Din grabs the small leather satchel off the back of the kitchen chair, following The Kid out the door.

It’s early — school starting in a half hour down in town, the dark night still skating at the edges of the slowly lightening sky— and while it used to be that Din needed to lift the kid into his saddle, he watches with a small smile of pride at the child’s practiced motion as he climbs in himself.

Legs that are longer than they used to be dangle, fitting boots that are bigger than they used to be in their stirrup and securing the bag onto the side of the horse, Din gives it a pat on the rump, watching him trot off down the hill.

Making his way inside, he’s careful not to let the screen door swing shut so he doesn’t wake you. He gathers the breakfast dishes as quietly as he can, setting them in the basin for soaking and pulling the curtain at the window to the side, he checks to make sure The Kid is out of sight.

Making his way into your bedroom, you open your eyes and smile when you hear the slight scrape of his boots against the wooden floor.

“I heard you say you had to mend something,” you yawn, stretching languidly. “You’re supposed to be at work, aren’t you? What needs mending?”

“Nothing.” His reply is simple, a wink when you catch his eyes and he thumbs his suspenders off his broad shoulders; one, the other. They drop limply to his sides, and he reaches back to grab hold of his cotton shirt, pulling it over his head and off.

You couldn’t put it into words what is so attractive to you about the motion, but it is. Christ, it is.

His broad shoulders and flat plane of his chest on display, he balls the shirt in his hands, tossing it onto the floor.

“Hey, mister,” you scold, rolling onto your side to watch his forearms flex as he works the button of his trousers open. “I just washed that shirt yesterday.”

“I know you did, girl.” He bends at the waist, tugging on the laces of his boots. You inwardly pout at the momentary visual loss of the dark collection of hair trailing from his navel downwards that he left exposed to with every button of his pants undone. “I watched you do it.”

He stands up, toeing off the boots before pushing his pants down and off his bare hips and when he stands there by the bed, completely nude, you only have a second to fully appreciate the view before he’s climbing in with you.

“Your shirt was soaked with the water,” he continues, gently pulling your blankets back, revealing your naked curves. His eyes darken, his voice lowering as he takes you in. “I could see right through it.”

“You couldn’t see anything good though,” you tease, knowing just the kind of show he likes. Your small hands palm the weight of your breasts, pushing them together in offering and the bob of his throat with a hum makes you bite your lip. “Just my corset.”

“I know.” He adds his hand to rest above your own, the mattress dipping with his weight as he stretches out alongside you. He laces your fingers with his, kneading; gentle, then a little harder. “It was a shame. Thought I would stick around this morning and see if you’ll give me a good look this time.”

You laugh, and he smiles, his eyes crinkling with happiness, with age. It’s a transformation from the weary, narrowed gaze that used to be fixed on his face — although the look of lust that it slips into now is just as familiar as it used to be back then.

The mornings never fail to delight you, the novelty never wearing off. He used to leave, and now he stays, and every morning when the sun rises, it’s like your gratefulness renews and expands; the same look mirrored in his own expression. The discovery of a morning Din you get to keep is one you hold tight every day.

The happiness between you flows through your limbs, coming out in the form of a tease. “You got your look last night. The show is over.”

His brow drops into a stern frown. “Lemme look at something else then.”

When you shake your head no, he leans in, whispering in your ear.

“I can pay, girl.” His lips brush against the curve of your ear, his nose nuzzling through the fine hair just above it. “I’ve got enough for the night, and the next day too. Is that enough for a look? Or can I also get a taste?”

His eyes alight with mischief, he lets your breast go and kissing the top of your hand, he starts to slide down your body. His mouth grazes your belly, sliding over your hip, pressing along the top of your leg and when you open up to make room for him, he settles between your thighs.

His shoulders look even wider with your knees hooked over them, and his large hands wrap around the top of your thighs, holding you open. His eyes drop down to your spread cunt, waiting for him.

“Lemme kiss it.”

Your body lighting up from the inside out after the first lick, he does kiss it.

He kisses it like he kisses your mouth: reverential, savoring, laving like a man starved for your taste. Arching into the wet heat of his mouth, you push your fingers through his dark curls, letting your mouth drop open as you close your eyes.

It’s so early — his mouth moving just as slow as the sun does when it makes it’s way up into the sky — and you start to roll your hips in a circle, the rhythm of it making him groan. The sound rumbles straight into your core, stoking your flame higher.

“Din — oh god, keep going. Yes.”

You pull on his silky strands, looking down at the crown of his head bent in task. Another groan let out into you, another, his dark eyes looking up from the vee of your thighs and you watch him for as long as you can stand it, until he pulls back to make his tongue visibly drag through your folds.

He hallows his cheeks for a moment, and then spits — immediately swiping the liquid mess up with his tongue before his mouth is buried again with a groan. It’s a lot — both him, and his mouth.

He licks you open through your sweet sighs, until your thighs drop apart, until they tremble against his cheeks, until they tense just like your fingers in his hair, until they freeze in his hold when you cry out.

“You’re as wet as you were yesterday, girl,” he rasps, kissing damply up your body as you lay there and catch your breath. “Though I think you could be wetter, don’t you think?”

You bite the plush pillow of your bottom lip, nodding and he pulls at it with his thumb, opening your mouth. He kisses you, his solid body resting on top of yours and his tongue is thick with your taste, his chin smeared with it. It reminds you faintly of Gracie, and you wind your legs around his waist, slipping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

This is your favorite part — to be covered by him, surrounded by his weight and his scent and the smooth slide of his skin. The tickle of his moustache, the firmness of his muscles, his body, moving with intent against yours. His strong embrace, holding you tight.

Curling your hands around his biceps, you give them a squeeze and when he slips inside of you, you inhale sweetly with the stretch.

“I think I gotta fuck you wetter, girl,” he groans with a husky strain, rocking his hips forward to fit every inch. “Make you come again, this time on my cock.”

Your knees hitch higher along his sides, until his hips are fitted with yours. His lips press gently against your cheek, the action a direct contrast with what he says next.

“What about fucking you full, hmm? Fill you until you can’t take anymore, and then use my fingers to push it back inside?”

The vocalization of what he did to you last night makes your eyes close with a frown, your jaw clenching as you whine and nod. You meet his thrusts with a flex of your hips, seeking him to be buried as deep as possible. You want to feel him when he leaves for work, while you do your chores, while you fix dinner and then shift on your chair as he sits across from you with a knowing smile.

Fitting his face into your neck, he breathes you in; the sun now fully bright outside your window. The sheets rustle with your movement, your hands spanning his sides and the play of the muscles along them shift under your palms, the ripple of them a rhythmic bunching.

His breath is hot when it bursts over your skin in pants, and you bury your face in his curls, inhaling their familiar scent.

“I am wet. Don’t you feel how wet I get for you? How much I want it?”

His body seems to melt on top of yours with the soothing murmur of your voice in his ear, even when his hips pick up their pace.

You keep talking, now digging your nails into the meat of his ass to force him deeper. “Keep fucking me. Keep going. You feel so good, I — oh god. I never want you to stop. Make me feel it, Din. Make me feel it.”

His face pulling back, he looks down at you with lust blown, open eyes and you meet his gaze, his body moving above yours. “You want it hard? You want to feel me when I leave for work, girl?”

Yes, you cry out, angling your hips so he’s hitting that spot just right. He presses a kiss to your cheek, the round of your jaw, your mouth before he lifts himself off you.

What happens next is fast, and it reminds you of the way he must handle his bounties — using his own leverage and strength to maneuver them into a prone position before they can react. He does it to you now, flipping you onto your stomach to flatten you against the mattress with his weight, wrapping his hands around your delicate wrists to push them into the bed on either side of your head and when he pushes back inside, it’s a more brutal stroke than before, his hips snapping against the curve of your ass.

It’s not enough for him though, and he quickly reaches down to grab the bend of your knee, forcing it higher so he can bury himself deeper. Again, again.

Your hand reaches back for him, and he tucks his chin over your shoulder, your hand cupping the crown of his head.

“This is what I wanted, girl. What I think about all day at work. What I dream about at night. This sweet cunt that takes me so well, and the sweet girl it belongs to.”

When you round your back to force him deeper, his hand curls around your hip with a heavy groan, his fingers digging into it to keep you in place. Your mouth catches against the pillow when your breath hitches in your throat, and he can feel you tighten like a slick, silky vice around him, getting ready to come.

“Just like that, girl.” His hand shoves under your body, seeking out your clit and when he finds it, he grinds his hips deep. “You’re mine. You’re mine and I’m gonna fuck everything I have into you until you can’t take anymore, make you take it until it leaks out, until you grow round with it —“

The sound you make when you come tips him over the edge too, his release pouring into you and filling you full just like he said it would.

He’ll be late for sure this morning, his shift starting over an hour ago and though you’re not complaining, you eventually say something after a couple minutes of content, sated silence.

“You’re gonna be late, Din.” Absolutely no conviction in your voice, your eyes slide shut as he nuzzles his face between your shoulder blades with lingering presses of his mouth everywhere he can reach.

“Can’t a man lay in bed all morning and fuck his wife?”

You huff at his wry humor, his direct statements the tone of a man used to getting his way. “You can, I’m just not sure they’ll pay you for it.”

You feel him shrug behind you, his arms tightening in their embrace and you smile, laying your head down on the pillow. “I’m not sure your wife could take it either. She’s pretty — hey!”

You yelp with a laugh, his hand surprising you with a sharp swat against your ass. He laughs too, the rumble of it transferring between your bodies.

“Hey now. That’s not the girl I married,” he scolds, lifting to allow you to turn under him. You part your legs, making space and he settles back on top of you.

“Where is the girl from the brothel? The one who would fuck me all night and then some? The one who woke me up, who begged me to fuck her harder, who was insatiable until I begged her to leave me alone?”

You’re laughing fully now underneath him, and he smiles. “I’m pretty sure that was you, not me.”

His grin is boyishly handsome with his mussed curls, the dimple in his cheek deep. “Oh yea. I think you’re right.”

“Also —,” you start again, shifting under him, looking down. “Did you just get yourself worked up talking about the way you fuck? I swear you’re getting hard again right now and —“

Your sentence ends with a renewed laugh when he clamps his hand over your mouth.

“Hush, girl,” he smiles.

You stay still for a moment, looking at each other. These were games you would play in the dead of night, knowing your time was limited — but to play them in the morning now is a different thing. A lighter thing. One that makes you float, instead of sink.

He traces the line of your eyebrow, trailing his knuckles over your cheekbone and his face is solemn for a moment while he does it, his eyes taking you in.

“I told you I have enough for the whole night, and the next day.” A small smile curls at the edge of his mouth. “I’m not leaving until I get my fill.”

He winks.