#I just want to appreciate more than just range in pitch

[dix-rose]

voice acting is such an underrated form of art like I know a lot of people focus on like the big names like Strong, DeLisle, Kenny, just to name a few because they have "range" but thinking about the actual WORK that goes into it?? Incredible.

[alotofpockets]

Flirting & friendzones | Leah Williamson x Arsenal/Swiss!Reader

Where Leah is a flirt and you are scared to give in to your feelings

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.6k

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Moving to a new club always brought some nerves with it, but luckily your national team captain and close friend Lia Wälti had been at your new club for years. Through her you had met some of her teammates for quick moments on the field during national team games over the years, but you didn't have much more of a connection with them. 

While that connection wasn't there, you had kept one secret from Lia, and that was that you had a crush on her best friend Leah ever since she first introduced the two of you on the pitch years ago. You had never acted on your crush on the England captain more than following her on Instagram, but now you'd be playing at the same club as her, which brought a whole different wave of nerves your way.

You were welcomed at Arsenal with open arms, as Lia had ensured you. Each and everyone of your teammates, and the staff members made you feel right at home. Lia had helped you secure an apartment before you had arrived, so you had your own space right away. 

After your first training, Lia invited you to come hang out and Beth and Viv their place. A regular hangout spot according to her, especially since they just got a new puppy. Lia drove you home from training, and told you she’d pick you up in an hour to head over to Beth and Viv’s.

An hour later your doorbell rang, but when you opened the door it was Leah instead of Lia. “Hey, Lia had to run some errands before heading over to the girls, so she asked me to pick you up instead.” Leah had taken the request to ‘pick you up’ to a whole new level as she started flirting with you. 

“You look great by the way.” She started while you walked over to her car. Just a simple friendly comment you thought, but still the blush rushed to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You said before quickly getting a step ahead of the blonde, to make sure she wouldn’t notice your blushing.

Of course Leah noticed right away and would now make it her mission to see you blush. “I mean it, you clean up nice. Haven’t seen you outside of football kits in person.” You reach the door and she opens your side for you. “Seems like a great date outfit too, if you even need a dinner date to wear it to, you know where to find me.” She left you frozen in place with her comment, and closed your door only to get in on the other side with a big smirk on her face.

“So, how has London been treating you so far?” You started telling Leah about your first week there, happy to no longer be the target of her flirting. At least that is what you thought until she followed up with, “Good to hear! If you ever need a tour guide, I am more than happy to volunteer.” On its own it wouldn’t be flirting, but the way she looked at you while you said it, gave the sentence a whole different meeting. 

“I really appreciate it, but Lia is showing me around already.” You said as you got out of the car, as you arrived at the girls' house. “Always Lia, huh?” She acted hurt. “Well, if she ever gets too busy, give me a call.” You walked up to the door quickly, “Oh look at that, we’re here.” You say as Beth opens the door. Darting inside without even saying a proper hello, propping yourself up between Viv and Kim who were already cuddling with Myle. 

Beth turned her attention to Leah, “Damn, what did you do?” She shrugs her shoulders, “Nothing.” In return Beth raised an eyebrow towards Leah, but she didn’t push further. Instead she turned her attention to you. “Glad you could make it. I see Myle made a new friend already!” Myle had gotten comfortable in your lap and started taking a nap there only moments after you had sat down. “She’s very cute.” You comment while looking at the pup lovingly. “I understand why everyone wants to hang out at your place.” You joke.

The conversations between everyone started flowing freely, and you felt immediately accepted into the group of girls. Leah continued her flirting with the rest of the girls around, which piqued the interest of the girls, though they didn’t say anything. Only the occasional chuckle when you would turn Leah down again.

It was hard having to say no to the woman you had been crushing on for years, but you had just joined a new club and she was co-captain of it, as well as Lia’s best friend. It didn’t seem right to act on your feelings, even though Leah was acting on them plenty. You came here to play football, you kept reminding yourself. 

Half an hour later Lia arrived, carrying in a few bags of groceries. “Sorry, it was quite busy at the store. What did I miss?” Some of the girls looked between you and Leah and wondered if they should poke some fun at the situation, but before they could, you answered her question. “Nothing much, we were just talking about how cute Myle is.” 

Lia, who had handed the groceries over to Viv, sat down beside you with a smile on her face. “She really is adorable. I’m glad to see you fit right in, I was worried about leaving you out here on your own.” It really did feel like you fit right in. 

“You don’t need to worry,” Leah interjected smoothly. “she wasn’t alone. I was here to make sure she’s well taken care of.” Her comment earned her a loud chuckle from Vic, who hurried to the kitchen to hide her laughter. Lia shot her best friend a look. “I’m sure you were, Lee.”

After dinner, Lia drove you home. “I am so happy you’re feeling at home already. How are the girls?” She asked while exiting the parking space. “Yeah, they’re really kind. I couldn’t have asked for a warmer welcome.” Lia was truly happy you found your spot within her little family at the club. 

She turned to you with a smirk. “What?” You asked instantly, already not liking the look on her face. “Don’t what me.” She laughs, “I was just going to ask what about Leah?” The slight blush that creeped up to your cheeks should’ve said enough. “Leah has been kind too, very kind.” Lia chuckled at your expression. “Kind? That girl has been flirting with you since the moment you arrived.” Your eyes widened, Lia had noticed. 

“Relax! Why do you think I introduced you all those years ago? You are literally perfect for each other. Back then I didn’t tell you my reasoning, because I didn’t think it would be fair to try and set you up with someone that lived in a different country.” She let that set in for a moment before she asked again, “So, what about Leah?” Her smirk grew again.

“Leah is great. I think I’ve kind of been pushing her into the friendzone though.” Lia stopped the car. You hadn’t been paying attention, not that you knew the roads yet, but you knew that you weren’t at your place or Lia’s. “It’s a good thing that Leah doesn’t easily give up, go shoot your shot.” You sent her a confused look, “Right now?” She points to the building ahead of you, “Yup, right now. That’s her place right there. Her car is here already, so she just got back as well.” She unbuckled your seatbelt, “Go!” You shake your head at her but get out of the car anyway. “Call me when you need a ride back.” 

You walk up to Leah’s door nervously, but knock nonetheless. When Leah opens the door, Lia decides to drive off. “Oh, hi, come in. Finally done with Lia?” You roll her eyes at how her flirting turned right back on. 

She walks you into her home, and you get right to the point. “Can we talk about today?” Leah’s face turns serious, feeling like she might have messed up. “Oh, I’m sorry if I was taking it too far. I thought there was a vibe, sorry if I read that wrong.” You shake your head, “No, no don’t worry. Actually it was me wanting to apologise. I was kind of pushing you towards the friendzone, because I didn’t want to mess anything up with Lia or the team.” 

Leah’s lips curve into a smile again, “But now you’re throwing me a ladder to come back out of the friendszone?” Her tone is hopeful. “If I’m not too late, yeah.” The blonde shakes her head, “Definitely not too late.”

Now that the big conversation was out of the way, you finally felt like it was okay to sit down. “You know Lia has been rooting for us for years?” You nod remembering the conversation in the car. “Yeah, she told me on the way here. I had no clue that this had been her intention all along.” 

Leah sits down beside you, “You know, I’ve liked you ever since we met when our teams played against each other that time Lia introduced us.” Your cheeks heat up again, “I have liked you since that day too.” 

Her eyes light up, “So, can we give this a try?” Her tone was hopeful again. “Yes, I’d like that.” With that, Leah closes the distance and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. When you pull back, both of you are smiling. 

“Want to stay for a while? I can drive you home wherever you want to go home.” You smile, “Yeah,” You’d love to spend more time with Leah. “I’ll text Lia and let her know that I won’t be needing that ride anymore.”

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[wosofutbolfan]

I Would Climb Every Mountain With You (Teaser)

Alexia Putellas x Reader fluff fic.

A complete vanity project.

I know all anyone wants is angst fest When Somebody Loved Me pt 2 but I love nothing more than hiking and this silly idea popped into my head and I wanted to flex my fluff muscles.

Wanted to put a small teaser out here to see if its worth exploring. Any feedback greatly appreciated!

You shoved the last of your gear into your duffel, relishing in the zipping sound that pierced the silence of your sparsely occupied apartment.

This was a quick turn around, even for you.

You were back home for your nans 82nd birthday and to catch up with your friends and family.

You’d barely been back on UK soil for 18 hours, in your Cumbria flat for only 15, when you got a call offering you a trip as a tour guide in the Pirineus Aragonese, otherwise known as the Spanish Pyrenees, for 3 nights.

Usually you’d ignore such a request at this point in your career but for a 3 day trip there were more 0’s than you would expect on the pay packet.

Too many to refuse.

You were one of the best in the business, so trampling around the low level bases of a fairley commercial mountain range was a bit novice for you.

These days you find yourself in the thin air over 6000 meters, or in a remote rainforest, or trekking through the Sahara, guiding millionaire white men who made the move from being armchair adventurers to have-a-go adventurers in the very safe manner which your expertise offered.

You did it because those IT consultants, those bankers, those surgeons, paid well.

Very well. 

Well enough to fund your explorations.

To go to those heights that really drove you. 8000 meters. The death zone. Where the air was so thin you couldn't stay long or your brain would lose oxygen.

Or the Amazon, making contact with a tribe to warn them of encroaching foresters.

Or to the arctic. To witness the last of the planet untouched by man.

As you shut the door behind yourself, barely even checking it locked.

Fuck. You think, as you download the boarding pass sent to you. 

Your mum was going to kill you. 

But god. You loved the outdoors. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I hate the outdoors!”

Alexia growled smacking a hand against her forearm, trying in vain to swat the midgie which was trying to make her blood its next meal. She hated the high pitched zoom that traveled past her ear as it moved back through the mini bus to try and find a more peaceful meal out of one of her teammates.

“We know Ale…” a tired voice from next to her groaned “you’ve mentioned it once, twice. Maybe a thousand times.” Mapi rolled her head off of her girlfriend's shoulder where she had been in a light doze. Interrupted by her captain's loud complaints.

“I’m just saying.” Alexia continued to grumble “I don’t know why Jona is making us do this. Team Bonding? We are a very bonded team already! I make you all pancakes on sundays!”

Mapi rolled her eyes at the blondes protests. She’d heard all of this before since Jona had announced the 3 day team bonding trip at the start of pre season. She could recite Alexia's complaints by heart.

“I’m excited.” She shrugs, eyes cast over her girlfriend who had moved to nuzzle into her side.

“Traidora” The captain replies, eyes gazing out of the fast moving countryside out of the window. She felt worse and worse the more they moved away from the city into the endless empty space around her. She could feel civilization leaving her grasp as the bars of signal went down on her phone. “You’ve been brainwashed by your nordic girlfriend.” She lets out simply.

Ignoring Mapis' offended scoff and dodging the light slap sent her way.

“Behave Maria.” A tired voice let out, without opening their eyes. Like a school child who had been told off, the tiny defender backs down and settles back into her girlfriend's shoulder. And if Alexia sticks her tongue out at her like a toddler then well. Who can prove it?

“God” she thought to herself as she settled her head back against the vibrating glass, starting a mental countdown of when she would return to her city center apartment  “I hate the outdoors.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[writeforfandoms]

Call Me Little Sunshine

Find my John Price masterlist

You've had a bad day, but even from a different country, your husband knows how to make it better.

This is pure comforting fluff. Might give you cavities.

Warnings: Price needs his own warning, swearing, sweetness, established relationship.

John Price x f!reader

Word count: 1k

You had just thrown yourself on the couch for a bit of dramatic pouting when your phone rang. You groaned out loud, momentarily tempted to ignore it. It was probably something stupid, or a telemarketer, or whatever.

But… it could be your husband. He did sometimes call without warning.

You checked your phone. Unknown number. Could be your husband. Could be just about anybody.

You answered anyway.

“‘Lo?” 

“Princess.” 

You breathed out a soft sigh at the sound of your darling’s voice. “John.” 

“You alright, love?” His voice was rough, like he’d been smoking recently. 

“Well enough.” You shrugged, pushing yourself up from the couch so you could sit. “What about you? What time is it?” 

John blew out a soft breath, amused. “It’s late, and I’m fine,” he reassured you. “No new holes in me.” The faint sounds of a skirmish came through from the other end, and you recognized Kyle’s voice. 

“Do you need to get that?” you asked, amused despite yourself.

There was a moment of silence. “Nope.” John must have moved away from them, because his end of the line got quieter. “Now, princess. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You winced. “Nothing,” you protested, lifting one hand to rub your forehead. 

“I know you better than that,” John murmured, voice pitched lower, soothing. “You can tell me.”

“It’s not important,” you tried. “Especially compared to whatever you’ve got going on.”

“Right now, all I’ve got going on is ignoring a couple idiots,” John countered. “Nothin’ more important than you.”

Your resistance crumbled in the face of that tone and those words. You sighed and gave in, telling him about your frustrations with work. You tried to keep it short, but he kept asking questions. Not letting you get away with giving him the bare minimum. 

“Well,” he finally said once he’d gotten everything out of you he wanted. “Least you’re done for the day.”

“No kidding.” You huffed softly, once again thinking about getting a drink. You deserved a little relaxation, after the day you’d had. “Two more days and it’s the weekend.”

John chuckled softly. “That eager, hm?”

“John, I’m just preventing murder,” you told him, all faux-innocence. “Really.”

He snorted. “Noble of you,” he teased. 

You smiled. It did not escape you that you felt better, that he was responsible for that. “I’m not keeping you up, am I, love?” 

“No.” His voice softened. “Don’t fret ‘bout me, princess.” 

“You know I always do.” 

“I know.” Those simple words carried such weight to them. Regret that you worried, acknowledgement that he couldn’t make you stop, appreciation that you cared enough to fret. 

You’d both talked this over enough times that you both acknowledged the stalemate. You’d fret. He’d ask you not to. Neither of you would give ground. 

And, honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way. Your husband was stubborn, and it was something you loved about him, even when he drove you up the wall. 

“You eaten yet?” 

“No,” you groaned, making a face. “Don’t you start fussing at me from another timezone, love.” 

He chuckled. “Can’t stop me.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but paused. The boys would probably take his side. “I’ll order in,” you decided instead. Giving ground to him, this time. 

“Good girl.” His voice dipped teasingly low, with that extra bit of rasp that he knew did things to you.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned him, sitting up again in alarm. “John.”

“What? Can’t I make sure my princess is feeling better?” He purred through the line.

“You are a damn tease, John Price.” But you couldn’t entirely keep your smile out of your tone. 

“Mm. So you like to remind me.” John took a deep breath, slow and steady. “Go order your dinner, princess. Something special tonight, hm? You deserve it.”

You warmed, unable to stop the fond smile if you tried. Which you didn’t. “Alright, love. Get some sleep tonight.”

“I will.” His voice softened, gently affectionate. “I’ll call again soon.”

“When you can,” you emphasized. “I’ll be here.” 

“Love you,” John murmured.

“Love you too.” You bit back the desire to ask when he’d be home, remind him to stay safe. He knew. And you knew. 

But you still had to take a moment to blink back emotion after the call disconnected. Your wonderful, stubborn, incredible husband.

Huffing to yourself, you ordered food. Something nice, like John said. It was amazing how much better you felt after a little conversation and some food. 

But the best came in the morning, as you were settling in to work. A knock at the door made you get up, cautious at first. Until you saw the flowers carried by a delivery man. 

The bouquet was large, beautiful, with some of your favorites. You stroked a few petals with a smile before you plucked out the card. 

Princess,

You can make it two more days. I’ll call again tonight. Chin up, sweetheart.

The note was not signed, but you didn’t need it to be.

But the thing that really caught you by surprise was the second card. 

I’m not bailing you out or stopping your husband if you get arrested, so call me before you murder anyone. -S

Bonnie, you’re a right saint for putting up with that grump. -J

We’re on his six, don’t worry. See you soon. -K

Eyes watery, smile almost painful, you put both notes on the front of the fridge, flowers in pride of place in the center of the table. Today would be no problem, now. 

[luffyvace]

Her brook Idk if your req are closed so read this at your convenience 🙏

I wanted to ask for a male harpy reader strawhat hc or if not just hc with luffy, more specifically based off a bird with heavy feathers like a snowy owl cause I’d love to imagine that he complains about the heat a lot and wonders why he’s sweating more then usual but it’s just luffy hugging his legs cus he’s so soft

Love your work brook 🙏☺️

nope! Still open lovely anon<3

when I tell you I did NOT know what a harpy was 🤦‍♀️ I had to do research for accuracy 😅😋

but don’t worry it’s all good I’ll be more than happy to do your request!

I’m telling you right here right now luffy would most definitely be interested in a reader like this!! You know how many unique animals and such he tried to recruit into the crew that weren’t even human?? 😂💗

and thank you!! I’m so happy you enjoy my headcanons :) that makes me very happy!

Okay I’m just saying…….like chopper…if you look more animal than human….his first thought is to eat you

”you think he tastes good?” 😋

😭😭

IT JUST IS !!

moving on…♡

He thinks your wings are really cool

I mean a 6.5 ft wing span…….I do too!!

definitely wanted to measure them to check after he learned that

to which he got himself wrapped up in the measuring tape

Both you and luffy eat “strange” animals

such as sloths, monkeys, porcupines, squirrels, opossums, armadillo’s, anteaters and sometimes parrots…..other birds too 😋🍴

No animal is safe 😭

every island you go to the two of you immediately start scouting for whatever variety of yummy foods you could find

”I’ve got news for you two—normal people don’t eat those animals”

- Nami ♡

it taste absolutely delicious to you!!

honestly you probably got Luffy into eating them

which so funny because he already loves eating all types of weird things

which is probably why he was so easy to convince him to eat it too

like he would normally see a monkey and go oh cool a monkey!

but now….😈😈

not all the time tho

mostly when he’s hungry

……….so I guess I lied, yes all the time 🤦‍♀️🤷‍♀️

he saw you eating a armadillo with some sloth on the side and was like

oooo I gotta try that 🤪🤪

you might dislike for cats seeing as though a harpy’s predator is a jaguar

Least baby harpy’s anyway…

still! 😠

it’s good for you that the sunny is big once y’all upgrade from merry

it has plenty of rooms with shade for you, since a harpy’s natural habitat is rainforests

and they mainly stay in the shade anyway :)

franky probably had a room built that simulates a rainforest for your comfort 💕

like how he simulated the grass

once Luffy found out harpy’s are rare to find and you found the tori tori no mi - model: harpy- it was pretty much settled for you to join the crew :)

like he loves rare stuff!

it’s like treasure!

and you know darn well a pirate will fight for his treasure! 😼

you use your high pitch bird call to reunite the strawhats whenever you guys get separated (which is like- every time you go on an adventure 😀 besides the point-)

it’s loud enough and ranges far enough to the point where it’s more efficient than yelling

very much so comes in handy when your in danger too

also not to mention luffy is 100% gonna wanna fly on your back since you have wings

he probably won’t even ask

he’ll just rocket onto your back while your flying one day and refuse to get off cuz it’s fun

it likely ends with him spotting something cool, telling you to go over to it and getting you two into trouble

just be ready for the

😬😁 ✊😠 💥💥 😖😓

sequence again

flying also comes in handy when saving the strawhat’s BUTT!

You and Robin like 🦅🦅

LOLLL

but no fr you literally just swoop in and save the day 🦸

SUPERRRRRRR M/N!! *super man pose* better yet *franky pose*

Zoro will also appreciate it if you catch him while falling because I swear that man is always getting smacked around-

same with Nami 🧡

another time

Robin was stating facts about harpy’s when the strawhats first met you, and you were confirming

she mentioned that they typically lived 35-45 years (but she was talking about the ANIMAL.)

Luffy—of course—mistook this

“WHAAAT?! YOU MEAN TO TELL ME OUR NEW NAKAMA’S GONNA DIE SOON?!”

*Nami steps in*

”CALM DOWN IDIOT THATS NOT WHAT SHE SAID!!” 💥💥

“……..and besides..! M/n’s not an animal! He’s still a person you know?! Sheesh…..of course he’s gonna live the lifespan of a human”

Sanji will of course cook any animal of your request into your meal

if it’s more nutritious for you—then certainly he’ll do so!

he always prioritizes nutritional value in his meals, and thats different for everybody!

Luffy however….he will get annoyed with 😂

”GO AWAY STUPID *kicks across room* YOU DONT NEED THIS TO SURVIVE! THIS IS FOR M/N!”

your like one of the few men in his life Sanji doesn’t hate

okay I know that was more harpy facts related so now I’ll get into the scenario you mentioned 😅💗

Luffy uses you for warmth in the winter (all the strawhats do)

like chopper ;P

especially with your large and soft wings

”M/n…spread your wings out..we need your warmth..”

-Zoro

you’ve been complaining about the heat all day

You felt like you were ON FIRE.

like seriously?! What was gon on today?!

it’s not like birds need to shed……so why are you burning up!??

”mmmm…your so warm M/n!”

”LUFFY?!”

”shishishishishi!”

”no wonder I felt heavier than usual!! Get off me Luffy!”

”awwhhhh WHYYYYYY?”

”what?! Why?! Because I’m burning up! I already have all these feathers! You’ve got to get off of me Luffy!”

*whines* “but mmmmm/nnnnnn! Your so waaaarrrrm!”

*sighs and face palms* *attempts to pry him off*

“noooooo m/nnnnnn! I don’t waaaaanna get ooofff!!”

Luffy practically had you in a literal choke hold

he was not about to let you go.

and you know he’s got himself wrapped alllllll the way around 😂😂

once again thank you for the compliment my dear!!

Hopefully I did your hcs justice and that you enjoyed them! <3

[deerspherestudios]

Hi! I played your game and really, really like it, I am a huge fan of slow burn - combined with Yandere too? That's kinda rare nowadays, haha. Thanks for making it and creating Mychael, I love his design. Two questions: How many days are planned to be playable in the full release?

And

Since in just one day Mychael feels very friendly towards us (according to a post you made with where his feelings are based on a meter) does that mean he's very clingy??? Like, in just one day he feels like our friend. What little effort and words will it take for him to go from crush, to love, to whatever yandere thing he might be??? Like, is he okay??? Should I be worried???

This guy? Clingy? Nahhh. Nothing to worry about, anon :-) 🍄❤️

As for the game, long (!!!) answer below cut: might be spoiler-y might be not.

For context, here's the post mentioned above.

I'm still not sure how many days it will be, but it's definitely ranging between 4-5 days. Granted it'll be a while before the game is finished finished but I think progress will pick up as I complete assets that will be reused. I'm writing Days 2, 3 and 4 simultaneously (anyone who writes can probably relate to wanting a specific thing to happen in the story but dread writing up to it, so I skip around in order to keep my motivation and interest up)

As for relationship progression, slow burn usually means a long time passes before anything develops. But this is a VN and I'm a solo part-time dev so the scope still has to be small 😔 That said!

Mychael, as a person, is quite solitary in nature; he likes being alone and you'll find out why. He does however desire company and he's only realized just how pleasant having someone around can be (hence his reaction for the Bad Endings in Day 1 if you wish to leave/run away)

Although I'm not a fan of the 'you do one (1) nice thing any decent person would do and yandere is already head-over-heels for you' trope, I do have to make use of it but, drip-feed style? You grow closer to Mychael as you hang out with him and do little things that he appreciates. (Honestly I just realized I'm describing the typical visual novel experience just without the yandere beginning-- go! figure!!! /lh)

Example: the first thing that boosts you to immediate friend status is your willingness to accept his physical looks, something that's never happened to him before. (I know my artstyle makes him a yassified pretty boy but imagine genuinely meeting a sentient creature in real life with patchy green skin, a dextrous tail and four blinking pitch black eyes, I think I'd freak too haha) Little things like that mean a lot to him and motivates him to prolong your stay.

In a way, the MC is written to be more kinder and open-minded (at least outside of Bad Ends) than the sweet/sour personalities that come in a VN, so (for narrative AND coding purposes) I can't really diversify it much. I hope that's okay ¯\_(; v ; )_/¯ If Mychael met a more grouchy/mean MC on Day 1 he'd probably not be as attached. He'd just save you, feed you and send you home when you ask hahaha. Of course this will change as he gets to know you better, at that stage he'll be willing to overlook your flaws like any upstanding yandere

Phew this was a lot to dump in an ask but I did wanna explain my vision for the game! I enjoy yandere VNs as an escape fantasy, but it's common they start out with the yan already being invested in you or fall for you too fast!!! if that makes sense. I'm interested in yanderes in the aspect of how love (romantic or otherwise) starts from innocent affection and spirals into dark obsession!!! It's also compelling as to why a character is so devoted to someone, in this situation the MC, and I wanna write the kind of person Mychael would fall for. And personally 'love-at-first-sight' as a reason just doesn't do it for me 💔

(Disclaimer!!! I'm not saying my game is any more original or better than the other wonderful yan VNs in the works, but hopefully with Mychael as a character I can deliver that 'slow-burn-and-yearn' storyline I'd like it to be. As my itchio profile says: I make games I thirst for in secret but are sadly lacking around the internet 💔 )

Thank you for the ask!! :-D

[yazis]

I'M NOT INTERESTED!!

八 - take a shot

wc: ~1.1k

note: not proofread!!

once the bell rang dismissing everyone and signalling the end of the day, you sprinted out of your 2-B classroom and down the corridor to find yoichi and meguru.

the two of them were luckily in the same class. as you approached the classroom doors of 2-C you saw them both already making their way out.

“hey (y/n)!” meguru called, giving you a wave once he caught sight of you.

"meguru! yoichi! who's ready to play some football?" you said enthusiastically.

"i thought you were joking..." yoichi replied looking somewhat concerned as you waved him off.

"of course not, itoshi sae is waiting..!" you said clasping your hands together to which yoichi rolled his eyes, the three of you making your way to where the first year classrooms were.

"you do realise there isn't a single girl that attends football club, right?" yoichi mentioned, meguru had found his way next to your right and looped an arm around your own.

"well, yoichi. there's a first for everything." you argued nudging his side with your free arm, the three of you coming to a stop in front of the 1-A classroom.

"plus, it's just football. a little kick here and a little kick there, how hard can it be?" you smiled confidently.

"very for someone like you, you're the most unathletic person i know." rin piped up coming out of his classroom and walking ahead of you guys. you were not appreciating his unwanted opinion.

"oh yeah? well you're the bitchiest person i know." you shot back catching up to him as all four of you walked off to the changing rooms.

----

you came out your changing room later than the other three. a lot more people turned up to football club than you had anticipated. the stands on the side of the school field were filled with all sorts of people watching.

the field itself didn't have many people and you were able to recognise a few other second years there. specifically nagi and reo from your class. the sight of the latter making you gag slightly.

your eyes also fell upon meguru, yoichi and rin, all supposedly warming up together, behind them you also caught a glimpse of some reddish brown hair making you feel giddy. you were about to make your way on the field as well until one of the coaches came up to you.

"sorry, no fans allowed on the field during practice." he said blowing your path, you looked up at him unimpressed.

"uh, hello? i'm no fan, i came here to play." you said putting your arms on your hips.

the coach blinked, looking down at you as if you were some joke before speaking up again, "even still, club today is an internal practice match between players who are on the team."

you glared at him, grumbling something underneath your breath before turning around and heading to the crowded stands to watch from the sidelines.

——————————

you slumped in your chair sat down on the side, watching as the head coach split them into two teams to play a match. you had really wanted to play, not only to show itoshi sae you're skills but also because playing football with your friends would've been fun.

a pout formed on your lips and your chin rested in the palm of your hands, the whistle commencing the start of the game. even with your lack of football knowledge, observing the match itself proved to be quite exciting, even if it was just a practice.

meguru was quite skilled with the ball, weaving through multiple players without losing any speed. rin, despite being the only first year on the pitch, was better than most of the people there as much as you hated to admit it. isagi also managed to score a goal at one point

however the one who stood out to you the most was itoshi sae. since the start of the game he had managed to score three goals and done so effortlessly, he had still yet to break a sweat.

your eyes were glued to him for the majority of the game, unable to look anywhere else. absorbed in his movements as if the game revolved around him, he made it all look so easy.

once the match was over and the head coach had finished giving them a final word, you rushed out of the stands and towards the fields to meet your three friends.

"guys! you were all so good!" you said excitedly as you sat down next to the them on the grass a few meters away from the penalty box.

the three of them were all sweating, panting slightly and drinking from their water bottles.

your eyes wandered to itoshi sae, stretching and warming down at the corner, the right side of the goal.

even when he's doing the bare minimum he still looks so...

you gulped nervously at the way his muscles flexed before drifting your eyes elsewhere to a ball not too far away.

yoichi must've noticed your gaze on the ball as he proceeded to ask, "are you thinking of trying to shoot?"

"yeah! take a shot (y/n)!" meguru cheered.

"I'll give it a try." you smiled walking over to the ball at the edge of the box.

i hope itoshi sae is watching.

you set the ball down at the top of the box in front of you on the penalty spot, stepping back before kicking with your left foot and missing the ball itself completely.

never mind, i hope he did not see that

you glanced at said boy occupying your mind who seemed fully focused on his stretches with his back turned to you. you let out a brief sigh before slowly turning round to meet your friends' expressions.

meguru and isagi immediately burst out laughing at your failed shot as rin simply sat staring at you judgementally which seemed to speak louder than the other two's reactions.

"shut up! i'm trying to copy what you guys were doing." you said ignoring meguru's giggles as you backed up from the ball ready to take another shot.

you took a little jog up to the ball, planting your left foot down and bringing your right foot to come straight forward and, this time, in contact with the ball.

you weren't too sure what you did, but the ball zoomed forward flying at an angle just like you had seen the others do earlier. your face lit up in delight, that was until you noticed that your shot was completely off target.

the delighted expression once upon your face fell, and the feeling of your heart sinking in your chest began to grow watching the ball aim far towards the right...

"hey- look out!"

...striking none other than itoshi sae in the back of the head.

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY: in which 2nd-year y/n l/n one day turns up at their high school and falls heads over heels with a certain 3rd-year, one who has a strict ‘no-dating’ policy.

taglist: @bluerskiees @ilovechuuyaa @bloombb @silly-ez @urdesaintess @saeswifeeee @kiopanxp @azharyy @winterpein @sarah-saystuff @krnsluvvie @biaonww @morgyyyyyyy @simpingmyassoff @sereniteav @gigiiiiislife @localgirlywithnolife

[linksthoughtbrambles]

Thought I'd give you a one word prompt for any of the Zelinks: Ghost.

@nocturnalfandomartist, thank you, thank you, thank you for this prompt. This astonished me more the more I wrote - and I couldn't stop writing. It may be longer than you bargained for at 9K words, but I enjoyed writing every single word of it. I will write at least one follow-up. This is a canon-compliant sequel to What to Expect When Fetch-Questing and a loose sequel to The Seeds of Love, Well-Worn and What Once Rang Hollow (with a few continuity differences for that last one) but it can stand easily on its own. Rated T, post-TotK, humor, drama, and romance. Also available to read on ao3.

Eternal

Link was extremely pleased he had his own arm back.

Unfortunately, he was the only one.

Purah (“Are you fricking KIDDING me?! I wanted to study that thing!”), Robbie (“I must repair my balloon myself?!”), Impa (“Mmm—a pity. With it, we might have learned how to create our own constructs—perhaps incorruptible ones.”), Paya (“That’s too bad, Link—it looked good on you!”), Tauro (“Ahhh. I’m sure you’re feeling better, but I was hoping I could learn more of the Zonai language from it, somehow.”), Calip (“It’s gone?! What did you do with it? You should’ve given it to me as an expert in these matters!”), Sidon (“My dearest friend! Where has your adult arm gone? Are you well?”), Yunobo (“Oh NO, Link, you lost your cool arm!”), Tulin (“Oh mannn. You still have my pledge, Link, but I don’t think I should just…slap my rune on your body. We gotta get you some rings or something.”), and Riju (“I didn’t expect you to look so much smaller without it.”), not to mention every single member of the monster control crew, and essentially anyone in Hyrule who ever recognized him, all thought he’d been better off with part of Rauru grafted onto his body.

Even Zelda wasn’t (entirely) an exception.

She did appreciate Link’s hands during their personal time (“I must admit, Link, I’d have felt strange were you doing this with a Zonai’s hand rather than your own”), but the scholar and sovereign in her definitely mourned the loss of such a unique artifact.

“Link, is there any chance you still share a psychic connection with Rauru?”

“Nope,” he said.

She blinked at him.

“Sorry,” he said, blushing and sheepish.

Now that the depths, sky, and newfound caverns had created vast opportunities for exploration, research, and innovation, Zelda’s original aim of rebuilding Hyrule had essentially tripled. She and Link knew if they didn’t make depths exploration and settlement official, people would do it on their own and get themselves killed (or the Yiga would claim it, and Hyrule would be threatened again in a few centuries). So it was, indeed, official as were new initiatives to investigate Zonai technology—making the Great Abandoned Central Mine one of several hubs of Hyrulean activity in the depths. Its proximity to the healing spring directly beneath the Shrine of Resurrection had made it a frequent destination of theirs.

Link and Zelda materialized beneath the Koradat Lightroot to the weighty vertigo of silence in the dark beyond the root’s oasis.  It was the same every time—some quiet dread sinking into the deepest pit of Link’s belly, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.  He kept telling himself it would be better once people settled, with their warm lights and the sounds that come with them going about their daily business.  Zelda kept telling him otherwise. (“We oughtn’t fill this place to the brim with light, Link. We would disturb its ecosystem severely”).

Link was usually on board with leaving nature undisturbed for the most part.

Maybe it was the time he’d spent down here in utter silence but for his own footsteps, utter darkness but pale flowerlight shot into a black so matte it may as well have been death’s void; the pressure of vast expanses of pitch-black felt nothing like a sea of undisturbed trees far above in the light.

There wasn’t even any wind.

Were both nature? Yes. Were both natural?

It didn’t feel like it.

“Shall we?” Zelda said.

It severed Link’s fledgling reverie. He tore his eyes from the lightless maw beyond Hylia Canyon and turned to join Zelda in descending the steep slope on the path toward the Great Abandoned Central Mine. He gave her a small smile, though he knew, from her face, it didn’t reach his eyes.

Her return smile did. “I hear one of our survey teams discovered another root in that direction,” she said. “We merely- ah- well-“

“Have to figure out how to light it up without my arm,” Link said.

A hint of pink dusted Zelda’s cheekbones. “Yes. Sorry, Link.”

The mine’s central structure loomed in the distance, its light cold, the highest statue of the ancient Gerudo sage always watching, an intimidating glower over the hilt of her sword aimed at any who would ascend the formidable stair toward its main entrance.

“Hello, Aratra,” Zelda whispered, as she always did, as though the woman herself could still answer her.

As they neared the bottom of the hill, blue flickered in Link’s vision. “Zelda,” he said, pointing to the small cluster of poes coming into view on the left.

The spectre of that intimate grief between them passed over her face as she nodded.

He didn’t say it wasn’t her fault.

Since he didn’t say it, she didn’t say it could be.

The words floated between them, spoken so many times they’d become an immutable understanding: that she’d been too slow, that he’d been too silent, that they’d both been too obedient to the long-dead king whose grave Zelda still brought blue gentians to in the early days of each summer.

That neither of them blamed the other for it.

That they’d both spend the rest of their lives making up for it.

And that they’d do it together.

Neither of them knew whether the spiritual flames were casualties of the Calamity.

Link only knew the vague sense of relief he felt when they entered him. It felt like they felt safe—sometimes, he even sensed joy—and they clung to him so hard.

They clung to Zelda, too, it turned out.  As they approached, the spirits snapped eagerly into whichever of them was nearest, nestling somewhere unfathomable within them until released to a bargainer’s care. Link still didn’t trust the bargainers, exactly, though they intended to visit the one in the mine that day.

They didn’t talk much. They usually didn’t when sliding through the depths’ silence—sound felt like a beacon to whatever might be beyond the lightroot’s reach; yet they moved in unwavering agreement, sweeping up every poe in their path and off it within sight. It’s why they took the long route to every work site.

They veered far off the path at one point to collect a dozen wayward souls atop a half-buried ruin of a toppled archway.

“If we go much further, we’ll be at the spring rather than the mine,” Zelda said.

“Yeah,” Link answered quietly. They turned to rejoin the path further up, hugging the rounded base of a monumental column presumably carved by nature, reaching the impossibly high ceiling of what was far, far too large to consider a mere cavern. It was like a space willed into existence by the gods themselves.

Link’s mood lifted as the sounds of civilized activity reached him, more and more distinct as they neared the foot of the quadruple-flight of stone stairs beneath the statue’s feet. Link caught a glimpse of a Sheikah scientist, little but a few motes of color on the highest level of the structure, cheerful construct “Brrrp!”s reflecting toward them off any of hundreds of stone facades: every surface the same pale grey—every light cool and lifeless.

Link couldn’t imagine living in such a place. With an irritated grind of his teeth, he realized he strongly preferred the haphazard Yiga structures, with their paper and oil lights and bound wood. The real, green-leaved brightblooms were also better than the Zonai’s artificial torches.

“Rupee for your thoughts,” Zelda whispered.

Link huffed. “The place needs some color.”

She paused on the stairs, a third of the way up, her torso shaking with laughter and her hand squeezing his tight.

Link tried not to smile. He didn’t want her to think he liked being laughed at.

“Link,” she said, holding her stomach, “that is…precisely the sort of observation I ought to expect you to make.”

He really tried to keep a sour grimace on, but he knew his lips were going twitchy.

“Unfortunately,” Zelda said, eyeing his lips with suspicion, “I am no longer in a position to pass on your criticism of Zonai décor.”

Link snorted. “Neither am I. But I definitely would’ve said something to Rauru if I’d seen this before he disappeared.”

“I have no doubt! And truly, you’re right. I cannot imagine spending any great length of time down here with nothing but grey stone and white light.”

Link nodded. “At least not without experiencing crushing environmental depression.”

Zelda inclined her head, no longer laughing. “Indeed. It makes one wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

“…Whether the monsters find it as unpleasant as we do,” she said, her eyes sweeping the far-off dark.

Link let that one sink in as they made the landing. Zelda touched the dais on which her old ally stood with reverence. When her hand slid from the porous stone, they continued up the staircase on her right. The chamber below would wait until later.

They ascended among tents clustered on the flagstones before the forge, lining the walls both natural and Zonai-made right up to the great arch.  They littered the circular courtyard on the other side of the building, too, the royal crest and symbols of the Sheikah, Zonai Survey Team, and Gerudo adorning many. The familiar sound of a fan whirred somewhere above them, out of sight.

It had been quite a stroke of luck, really, that Link had activated these facilities before Rauru’s arm vanished. The constructs had still recognized him as their “primary authorizer” and he’d been able to grant access to others.

He admitted, though, it was getting cumbersome; the moment he saw Ponnick, he knew he’d run out of time to think about Zelda’s monster-wonderings.  He flagged Link down (as if Link wasn’t looking straight at him) with arms wild above his head. “Thank the skies you’re here, we have new recruits!”

Link then spent the obligatory hour introducing them to all the constructs in the facility.

Zelda had her own work in store for her. Between decisions regarding distribution of newly acquired zonaite and reports from the excavation, inventory, innovation, and engineering teams, she easily had a full day of deliberation and arbitration ahead. Link joined her for much of it once he’d fulfilled his authorization duties—after all, he’d become something of an amateur engineer himself. It was nice to have something scientific to contribute when talking with Zelda.

“You can totally build a wing/hot-air-balloon hybrid!” he’d said.

 “Link, that sounds quite impractical-“

“No, no, you don’t put the balloon in the middle, you put it on the nose at an angle, see?  Then it drags the wing upward.”

“L- Link- what of the flame needed?“

“Oh, no, it’s fine, you only get burned a little bit.”

“What?!”

“And you still put the fans on the back, you know, to help out. Oh, and the steering stick.”

“Link, forgive me, but the flame shall not be directed straight up. It is inefficient and unsafe.”

“Yeah but the LIFT!”

He’d quite liked his flaming plane. So had Robbie.

Today, the engineering talk had more to do with shoring up mining tunnels, which while important, did not require Link’s particular flair for incendiary devices. All their talk of angles, sines, and cosines seemed a bit more precise than his higgledy-piggledy constructions to hold up Addison’s signs, so he eventually left them to it, jogging instead to the rim of the courtyard, climbing up, and inviting all the poes newly showing themselves to join him—then scouting for more from his higher vantage point. He’d grown used to the quizzical looks from everyone else but Zelda.

“What?” he’d asked as Ponnick watched him jog, zig-zagging, in a roughly circular area covered in pale grey and lavender fungi.

“What are you doing?”

“Collecting the poes,” Link said.

“Poes? Where?!” Ponnick spun, wildly searching for spirits which glowed blue, plain as day, in Link’s vision.

At least Zelda could see them, too.

On balance, between the poes, soldiers’ spirits, koroks, Hestu, and the dragons of the springs, he’d have presumed himself insane if no one else ever saw what he saw.  He almost had after the ghost of King Rhoam disappeared right in front of his face in the Temple of Time: an insane amnesiac with delusions of heroism.

Except they hadn’t been delusions, because he’d killed the crap out of Ganon.

Twice.

Or, of course, he imagined it. Twice.

Link shook his head. No point going down that route. If he imagined that, he imagined everything, and if that was the case he might as well relax and start attaching rockets to every exhausted korok’s backpack like that one by Outskirt Stable.

Poor little guy. At least he made it the eleventh time.

He huffed to himself. Sometimes, Zelda thought he was a little nuts. He supposed he could see why.

As a particularly large poe with a bright pink fringe zzipped its way into his body, Link caught a wink of blue between boulders at the stone circle in the distance to the north—a small zonaite deposit he’d cleared of monsters for what seemed to be the final time, the blood moons having ended.

It sparked his curiosity.

He sprinted the first hundred feet, then slowed to a reasonable pace. He didn’t want to go too far and worry Zelda, but if there were poes at that old monster nest, he didn’t want to leave them there.

Ten minutes later, he entered the mouth of the circle, three moldy, rickety old watch-posts within and another gap in the rocks across from him. Blue flickered beyond it: five poes huddled together. As he approached, flashes of his last encounter there played across his mind’s eye. The bokoblin on the platform before him had seen him first and tried to rain fire-fruit-arrows on him. Two silver moblins had slouched toward him, intent on splitting him open with their horns or the decayed royal claymores they’d somehow gotten. The other two bokoblins had fallen quickly to Tulin’s duplicate. Five monsters in all.

Link’s lip curled.

He hesitated on the brink of turning back, the thought of helping anything that may once have been a bokoblin sending a shockingly wicked taste of bile up his throat. He brought a fist to his mouth, pressing it deep to his skin, the imprint of his teeth stark against his lips.

No one memory stood out.

He’d never met a bokoblin that hadn’t aimed to kill on sight—never known one to show mercy, or even disinterest. Once they knew a person was near, they entered an unstoppable, murderous frenzy until they succeeded or someone put them down.

Link shut his eyes and took breath after deep breath.

He didn’t know anything for sure, and the bargainers never said.

Except they did say.

“Good… Evil… That’s the futile perspective of narrow-minded beings… There is no such distinction in wandering spirits.”

When he next looked, the flames flickered every bit as forlorn as they always did. He shook his head, his feet finally choosing forward for him.

When the poes joined the others in Link, he felt the usual sense of relief. Whoever or whatever they were, they seemed glad to be with him—not as happy as the ones he’d found in the deepest pit of the mine beneath Hateno, but if he was stuck for Goddess-knows how long at the absolute bottom of a pitch-black pit, he’d have been overjoyed to get out, too.

He took his time on the way back to the courtyard, half-watching a team excavate a buried section of the cracked enclosure and half-scouting for more glints of spirit-light, pensive, wrinkling his nose as he became aware of the sticky sheen on his skin. He pulled a handkerchief from his pouch and took it to his face. It came away slightly green with the powdery spores always floating in the too-still air of the depths.  Zelda collected them to study, but Link preferred not to be the collection vessel.

Zelda herself appeared over the edge of the wall as he swept the cloth beneath his left eye a second time. He watched her make her way down the inclined stone the natural grace she’d always had.

When he reached her, she was busy snapping images of the newly excavated section of stone.

“It is remarkable how they accomplished this precision on such a massive scale.” The Purah Pad clicked. “These structures were erected before my time with them—long before for most. They are scattered so far and wide and yet certain markings on them are precisely identical. I suppose they may have mass-produced stones as they did construct parts and delivered them afar.”

Link grew a soft, sideways smile as he listened. He could imagine her doing exactly this in the sunshine, her hair brushing the small of her back, himself silent as always, allowing her voice to wash over him until she inevitably remembered who she was talking to.

“The compendium feature is still something of a mystery,” she’d said, snapping a carefully-timed shot of a warm darner just as it paused, searching for prey.

“It recognizes certain species, but not others. Initially, Purah and I believed its recognition to be related to useful effects. Warm darners are of use in elixirs to resist cold temperatures, for example. Yet despite being unable to identify any species of tree, the Slate recognizes certain perfectly ordinary fruits, including apples.”

Link thought apples were too delicious to be ordinary.  He didn’t dare say so, but the phantom flavor of hot buttered apple flooded his mouth and his stomach betrayed him with a thoroughly embarrassing hunger-pang much-too-much like the sound of a hopeful retriever begging for an appley treat.

Zelda’s back stiffened. She glanced over her shoulder at his now-pink face, her eyes flicking to the blue pommel peeking out behind his ear. Link remained perfectly still, and that included not swallowing his imaginary-apple-induced-saliva.

Then-Zelda had returned to imaging wildlife in a rankling silence.

Now-Zelda heard him huff a laugh and turned with a smile sparkling despite the cold light of this place. She hooked the Purah Pad onto her belt. “May I ask what’s amused you so?”

Link shrugged a little. “Ways you haven’t changed.”

“Ah,” she said, threading her fingers through his. “And what of ways I have?”

His voice emerged low and soft. “I love those.” He squeezed her hand.

It made her smile at him in a way far too similar to how she had much earlier that morning, not long after waking up. He swallowed as she pulled him toward her—then she squinted at him and laughed a little through her nose, taking the handkerchief still in his other hand and beginning to wipe his forehead.

“I did that already,” he chuckled.

“You missed your hairline,” she said with the soft laugh he’d come to recognize as her equivalent of a giggle. “It’s fortunate this substance does not irritate your lungs as it does for some.”

“Especially Nappin.”

“Indeed, yes, especially Nappin. I do not believe depths research is his calling.”

“Nope.”

“You must have walked through a thick patch.”

“Ran through, more likely.”

“Oh? Where did you go?”

Link motioned toward the stone circle in the distance.

Her brow pinched. “Monsters?”

“Poes,” he said, wondering if he should tell her about the coincidence of the number. It might make her feel better, to have some hint these weren’t all souls marooned by the Calamity, but he wasn’t sure how she’d take the possibility they might be doing favors for monsters who’d been intent on murdering them in life.

She must have seen it in the motions of his mouth, nearly but not quite speaking. “Something else?” she asked.

He sighed soft through his nose. “Just something that made me think.”

The corner of her mouth quirked. Then her whole face opened up in mock-surprise. “Incredible!”

“Pfff,” he said with a poke to her ribs.

She squeaked. The three people working on the excavation behind Zelda went from studiously ignoring them to unabashed staring. Link gave them a small wave just as he registered Zelda’s eyes narrowing at him.

She began to rub the handkerchief all over the crown of his head with unnecessary vigor.

“Hey!”

The sounds coming from her as he pushed her hands away were much more like a girlish giggle than anything she usually produced. “It was in your hair, too,” she pointed out.

“There’s probably some in yours, Princess,” he warned.

Her eyebrows shot very close to the hairline her hands had risen to protect.

Link smirked. Her braid was much more difficult to fix than his ponytail. He made short work of his, shaking his now-mussed hair out and re-gathering it in the tie. Hyper-aware of the team still at rapt attention in the background, he finished up and offered his hand to Zelda. “Truce?”

She took it with a small smile. “Yes, please—but sincerely, I would like to know what gave you pause in the short time we were separated.”

His smile ebbed as he began to lead her over the shallower side of the half-buried stone walkway. It was no use, really. He’d only been good at hiding things from her when she refused to look at him, so long ago.

“There were five poes,” he said, “same as how many monsters I last cleared out.”

Their feet fell so quiet on the soft courtyard ground covered in pale, fuzzy flora he had no real names for, some soft and mossy, others more like wisps or powders. A few prickled. He liked the purple ones best for breaking up all that grey.

Their feet followed the same path without any hesitance or need for confirmation—toward the great central corridor. Zelda finally answered ten feet from its first stones.

“The statues say… good and evil… are meaningless for them.”

“…Yeah.”

“For a few moments, I was wondering whether only the spirits remaining clear in the shape of Hylian soldiers were people, but… no.  For they aren’t poes at all, are they?”

Link shook his head. “No. They… find their way on their own. Once they’re done.”

Zelda nodded. “They had a purpose—to help you,” Zelda said.

“To help someone, anyway. Whoever came around to fight back.”

A series of clanging sounds echoed down the stone steps into the corridor, along with quizzical "Brrrp!"s and a Hylian's grumbling. Link's right hand flexed. No more convenient ultra-glue. He kept walking.

“Why down here?” Zelda asked.

She’d spoken so quietly he had to think to process her words over the noise.

“You mean why in the depths?” Link asked.

“Yes. Why so far beneath the place they perished? There seems little hope of aiding someone here, doesn’t there?”

“I came along.”

“Yet they can’t have known you would. They wouldn’t even have known the depths were here to travel here intentionally.”

Link shook his head. He had absolutely no idea.

They descended in thoughtful silence to the base of Aratra’s main statue, then behind her into the yawning chamber tucked deceptively beneath the center of the great structure.

It struck Link, as it often did, as the offer of an embrace. As the chamber opened before them, the long bridge leading from the entrance directly to the four-eyed face of the greatest bargainer statue, the platform running abreast its shoulders combined with its massive arms and it appeared so ready to encircle whatever came before it. When he’d first stood there, he expected it, watched those hands out of the corner of his eye, waiting for movement.

It had never come.

Instead, a distant but surprisingly level-headed voice had issued from the alien face. It had helped him—no question about that.

The poes gladly rushed into its waiting arms—no doubt about that, either.

But this entity had also played a trick on him to get him down here. He would never trust it the way he trusted the Goddess.

The Goddess statues were another matter entirely. Now that he knew more than one thing could talk out of them, he was a lot more wary than he’d been before.

They came to a halt near the great statue’s face.

“You who stand before me,” it said in tones of single drops of water echoing in a deep, black lake, “offer poes to me. They are spirits that ought to return to the afterlife.”

As always, the poes simply left them. With hundreds or thousands of spirits somehow housed within him, Link always expected there to be something like a whirlwind, or flashes of light—but there wasn’t. It was swift and gentle as a sigh: barely a murmur of any motion or sound. It took merely a moment.

Then a wave of desperate grief seized the core of Link’s body and he cried out, clutching at an anguished heart, though neither the cry nor the heart were his own.

“Link!” Zelda gripped his biceps, her face stricken.

“Z-elda-“ he said, more to answer her than anything else, at a complete loss.

“Two do not wish to leave you,” said the bargainer.

Link’s breath caught.  Zelda’s eyes flew wide, and she looked him up and down as though trying to find them. “Can you- pull them from him?”

“I can do no more than guide,” the bargainer answered. “I show the way home.”

“They usually seem quite pleased to go home. So- why?” Zelda’s face seemed approaching a panic like none he’d seen in over a hundred years.

“I’m fine, Zel,” Link said, “really- NO, really, I’m fine, I’m just- I feel what they feel.”

“Yes, I do as well, but this-“

“This is them not wanting to go,” Link said, shaking. His eyes met first the lower, then the upper pair of the bargainer’s. “Can you talk to them?”

“After a fashion.”

“Can you figure out why-“

“I know why.”

Link and Zelda waited a few beats.

“We would appreciate it if you would inform us,” Zelda said, a hint of exasperation in her voice.

There was a depth of quiet, as though all sound plummeted into some unseen pit, unable to return, siphoned, whenever the bargainers spoke across fathoms to their brethren.  It muted Link’s accelerated breaths. Zelda’s grip tightened, her mind visibly whirring behind the eyes flicking between his features.

“…You have made a substantial offering,” the bargainer said at length.

Link and Zelda exchanged a glance.

“You have made many offerings,” it continued, “many more than any other being in countless ages.”

Link experienced the distinct sensation of someone…curling around him, like Zelda would, holding him tight, but inside his own chest.

“If you agree, I will honor these spirits’ requests as repayment for your offerings.”

“Agree?” Zelda asked. “What requests?”

“They would speak with you,” it clarified.

The curl tightened. It felt like far, far more than a desire to speak. A creeping dread rose in him—his own—of what spirits would choose to cling with such desperation to his body.

Someone terrified of death? Of the afterlife? Maybe someone with a last request—a regret? Two someones—at the same time, when it had never happened before?

Or did the bargainer mean… “W-wait,” Link said with a swallow. “Do they want to speak to someone in general? Or is it just me? Or Zelda?”

Link resisted an inexplicable urge to whimper.

“It is you who stand before me,” the bargainer said.

“Meaning Link,” Zelda said squinting at the statue.

It stared as though its answer had been obvious.

“Do they mean him harm?” Zelda’s tone had hardened considerably. “We have seen spirits lift weapons- perform magic.“

Link lurched with a sudden fear—could he have picked up Ganondorf’s soul?

“I offer you a boon,” the bargainer said, “not a curse.”

Zelda blinked, taken aback, while Link registered the depth of the anguish invading his heart.

It didn’t feel like Ganondorf. He’d have been hatred—envy—fury.

No, that wasn’t it.

This was regret. Something undone or unfinished.

Link closed his eyes and tried to… reach—within himself, where this spirit wound around him. So tight—clinging—stubborn. Something made him breathe an incredulous laugh, and he didn’t even know why; but the more he seemed to press into the spirit’s space the more familiar it seemed, an intense vertigo hurtling toward him from an invisible horizon slamming his awareness into long ago, when the world was over a hundred years younger.

Link’s body gasped.

Link’s mind looked down at a very spiteful young girl with a thick mop of mixed sand-and-straw-and-acorn-colored hair which he’d wrestled into a braid for her earlier that day, springy strands poking out at odd angles as she narrowed her eyes at him, her gangly arms vice-gripping his ribs, her hands fisted, and her feet planted wider than shoulder-width apart, as though to brace him immovably in-place.

“This isn’t going to work out for you, cheeter,” Link said.

“You’re not going,” she answered, her voice a mix of petulant and acrid.

“I… kind of am.”

“Nope.” She sniffed, a bit of her own hair having tickled its way to the edge of one nostril.

“I mean, if you won’t let go, I can just drag you all the way to the castle.”

“Good.”

“Good?!”

“Dad takes you everywhere. My turn.”

“You clinging to my midriff isn’t the same as Father taking you somewhere.”

Her lip curled and Link felt kind of bad, but what did she expect? “You’re eleven.”

“So?”

“So you’re not even out of school yet!”

“Castle Town has a school.”

“So you want to go to school in Castle Town while I’m in training all day and pretty much not see me anyway?”

“At least I’ll get to do something.”

Link laughed so hard he went silent, the girl’s chin bopping his ribs painfully with each spasm of his diaphragm.

“What are you laughing at?!”

“Chee… for Hylia’s sake, you’ll just be at a different school!”

“With you.”

“What about Mom?” Link said.

Chee went quiet for a moment, her eyes softening a little, though they still shone like tiger’s-eye. He could tell she was trying not to grimace.

“That is totally your sheepish face trying not to come out,” Link said.

 “Dad leaves her alone,” Chee said quietly. “A lot.”

Link’s smile left him. “No… he doesn’t. Because she has us.”

“You mean me.”

“Yeah, okay… so it’s been you more than me. But do you really want to leave her here while we both go?”

“She could come.”

Link shook his head. He was getting sidetracked. Mom wasn’t really what this was about, and neither was a different school, or Castle Town, or even his sister getting to do more exciting things. “Look, Chee… I know you’ll miss me.”

She grunted and pumped all the air from his lungs with her bony arms (damn she was strong).

“I’ll miss you too. A lot.” He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, hard, but not too hard. He was way too strong for his own good, or hers. “More than anyone,” he whispered.

“Link?”

“No way.”

“Yep.”

“You’re a total mommy’s boy.”

“Yeah, well, doesn’t mean my sister can’t be my favorite person.”

“Link, please- answer me!”

“He communes,” the bargainer said, the sound of distance itself as the image of Link’s little sister faded.

The feel of her arms around him remained.

“I agree!” Link blurted.

“What?!” Zelda said, her thumb swiping at a wetness on Link’s cheek.

As the embrace of his innermost self bled from Link, he tripped forward, his arms desperate, seeking to return it. His hands found Zelda’s waist, and his eyes found hers—whatever she saw in them made her hug him tight about his shoulders.

“Link?” she said.

He held her too, unsure how to begin, but any words died on his lips at the sight of blue flame coalescing behind her. He tapped Zelda’s back, taking her by one shoulder and turning her to look.

Two spirits came into slow being before them, veiled in a pale blue glow, their features weaving into existence as patches of light, seamless once in place. Flames licked their feet, one moment there, then gone. They were old women, but as Link watched, their edges shimmered, and they took the forms he knew they would—some hidden heart within him had already known, had felt their shades only in his most dreamless of sleeps, in the darkness with them.

One woman stood almost exactly his height, about forty years old, and looked very much like him. The other had become the girl who’d insisted he stay home with her over a century ago.

How could his waking mind have forgotten them so thoroughly? He really was an insane amnesiac with delusions of heroism. He’d have to be insane to forget people he loved so much.

“Mom. Chee,” he said, and as he did, their tears fell, too. They rushed to embrace him, both at once, and he could feel them, they were real, and his deepest core spoke a wordless vow to offer a gift worthy of the bargainer’s extraordinary blessing.

--

Zelda balanced privacy and caution, wandering the length of the bargainer’s platform, the communion of three always at the corner of her eye, sitting cross-legged, knee-to-knee and hand-in-hand.

She’d known of his mother and sister, but they’d never met. He’d spoken of them only in bare, short spaces, quiet moments when Calamity’s imminence dulled.

How their Hateno home had not brought their memories forth long before now, she didn’t know. She’d sensed, sometimes, as Link stared at a piece of pottery or brushed his fingertips over a length of wood-grain on the banister, some glimmer of their former reality floating near to the surface—but it never emerged.

It’s why she’d delved into the mystery of the Shrine of Resurrection—into the healing spring beneath it in the depths—as though the missing parts of him had drifted into its bed, lying nascent against its darkest earth, far below.

They’d have stopped there again after this, on an ordinary day. She’d have given him her most sincere of smiles as she removed his leather—his bracers, his belts, his boots—her eyes never leaving his. She could feel the way his chest would rise and fall, quickening against the heels of her hands. They’d have entered the water together.

Zelda reached the platform’s edge. Hundreds of feet below, a small cluster of poes huddled in the great chamber’s corner, near the bargainer’s ankle; Zelda wondered that they’d come so close to the guiding statue, yet not found their way to the afterlife.

“They do not wish to cross,” the bargainer said.

Zelda gasped, one hand pressing flat to her chest. It had heard her?

“I can hear only you who stand before me.”

Zelda craned her neck toward the statue’s head, half-expecting it to have turned toward her. It hadn’t. “Not the others above us, then?” she whispered.

“Only you who stand before me.”

Zelda sighed, the bargainer keeping its secrets as always. She centered Link in her vision, speaking quietly with his lost family, so engrossed he’d not spared the statue a glance as its voice sounded.

“I spoke to you alone,” the statue said.

“Oh?” Zelda’s curiosity piqued. “I didn’t realize you could.”

She waited for a response, the spark of excitement slowly fading in the silence.

She oughtn’t have expected anything else. These beings showed interest in nothing but the welfare of the spirits they shepherded. She peered over the railing once more, at the flames flickering far below.

“If I go to collect them, will they come?”

“For you, yes. Undoubtedly.”

“And would they then move on as the others have?”

“Almost certainly.”

She wondered why her carrying them a few hundred feet would change their minds.

“Listen with he who also stands before me. You will understand.”

Zelda’s brow tightened, taken aback and hesitant to simply eavesdrop. She shuffled her feet.

The bargainer remained silent.

She approached the three with great reservation, her hands clasped before her, unwilling to simply insert herself within their conversation. She stopped partway across the platform. Should Link wish to include her, he would—yet he was rapt. He appeared as though drinking in every detail of his mother’s face over and over again. Perhaps he feared a more ordinary forgetfulness would take her from him a second time.

Zelda’s lower lip rose in understanding. Some days, she, too, struggled to see her father’s face clearly. Her mother’s had long been wiped blank.

She gasped, her hand touching the Purah Pad.

Link looked up at the sound, giving her a small smile, and as he did, the spirits looked at her as well, as though only just noticing her presence.

The spirit of Link’s mother smiled wide. “Link! Is she with you?”

Link turned deep crimson, his face twisting in a smiling grimace Zelda had never seen on him.

“Oooh!” his sister said, her face full of mock-scandalization. “Your face, Link. Wow. Is she… with you?” she asked, her eyebrows inching upward.

Link’s rested his face in his hands as the spirit-women giggled at him. Zelda couldn’t help but quirk a smile, herself, though she felt strange. She could not ignore the hesitance in her heart.

Transient.

It would be transient.

Her eyes threatened tears as she watched her lover, watched him be with them as though they yet lived.

Their departure would sink him as his forgetfulness never could have.

It took Link a minute and a few resurgences of giggling to recover enough to peer over his hands at her.

Then he held one out in invitation, turning that smile on her- the one that was for her alone. She drew a steeling breath, her fingers worrying at the pad’s cool surface. “Are you certain?” Zelda asked. “I’ve no wish to intrude.” I’ve no wish to cut your time short.

“I’m completely sure,” Link said, beckoning her toward him.

Her shoe scuffed on the first step and she swallowed, extending her hand. When he took it, his mother’s spirit slid to make room for her. Zelda sat as they did, her knee to Link’s, unable to smile and unsure what to say—though she had no intention of asking questions about the mechanics of spirithood, despite the bargainer’s nebulous words.

Link seemed to sense her uncertainty. He threaded his fingers through hers and moved closer, drawing her hand warm into his lap, his shoulder to hers. Zelda couldn’t help but find his eyes, and though she knew his smile and the squeeze of her hand were nothing but sincerity, a truth to reassure her, the smile she gave held a depth of sadness for the future this would bring.

“That is so a yes,” his sister said, snapping the moment in two. Link’s eyes rolled and fluttered shut, and a small laugh left Zelda’s nose despite her visions of Link falling apart.

“The sky’s sake, Chee,” his mother chuckled. “You lived to be ninety-two. I’d expect you to have matured eventually.”

“Are you kidding? This is my chance to be a kid again. I’ll take it!” The girl smiled at Link, but an intense sadness lay in the core of her eyes, the precise contours of her lips. Zelda recognized its longing.

It was in his mother’s, too. “Link, my little love,” the older woman said, shifting a soft smile between him and Zelda, “why don’t you introduce us?”

Link huffed a laugh and gave Zelda a look so like one he’d given her just before the Calamity struck—on Mount Lanayru—something sad yet loving and utterly immovable all at once. She wondered wildly for a moment exactly how he’d introduce her—for she wasn’t his wife, not yet, but “fiancé” seemed an entirely inadequate word.

Fated. Soulmate. Destined. Those- those began to approach the magnitude of whatever connection had laid between them even from the beginning.

“Mom- Chee,” Link said, his eyes and smile still soft, still on her. “This is the love of my life.” His thumb stroked the edge of her hand. “Zelda.”

She and her smile warmed, his words an anchor to the present. Her free hand curled around his bicep and their foreheads somehow met, though she’d not intended to approach him.

His eyes on hers.

Those calm waters she always wished to dive deep within. They seemed to go on forever, further than Link himself could know, to a place warm, safe, and eternal.

Should she ever tell him so, he would give her his lopsided smile with that deep dimple of his. He would tell her the reverse—that she was his eternal goddess, and he worshiped her—that it wasn’t about him.

But it was about him. She knew it in her deepest self. They two were as one. When it came time for her to pass into the afterlife, she knew she would not go without him.

A sudden understanding drew an aching smile on her face for all the little lights in the darkness.

Though the silence between them bore no tension, its length emerged in her awareness. No irreverent remark issued from his sister; his mother had asked no questions of her. She turned with a flutter of dread, expecting, somehow, the spell to be broken—to see empty space where the spirits had been. Instead, she found their gazes on them, awed.

“What is it?” Link asked softly.

They seemed at a loss for speech. Their eyes traveled all around and above and below them, their hands locked together. His mother’s eyes fell on Zelda’s, and his sister’s on Link’s.

“It was you,” his sister said.

Link shook his head. “What was?”

“You… shine,” his mother said, her voice like a whisper in a cathedral. “Together. Like- the light of a thousand Suns.”

Link turned as though searching for that light himself. “Zelda does- she shines with her magic.”

 “No, Link. Both of you,” his sister said, shaking her head hard, her eyes shut for a moment. She opened them, squinting at Zelda. “I see you both ways right now. Before, I didn’t have eyes, not anymore. I do now, and I can see you sitting there, but I could see you before, too. You… you were the lights. You…” she gestured at them, her palm wide, “are the lights.” She swallowed. “Mom? Same for you?”

“Yes,” the older woman breathed. “Yes. I thought- Link, I’d thought the light had led us to you. I felt- so happy to finally be with you again. My little boy-“ tears slipped down her cheeks again, and she reached for Link, cupping his cheeks. “I thought- I still don’t understand- I thought I’d outlived you. I kept wishing, and wishing, and wishing in a sea of darkness to find you again.”

“We all thought you died at Fort Hateno,” Chee said quietly.

“But the light didn’t lead me to you,” said his mother with a tearful smile. “The light was you. And…” she smiled at Zelda, “you. And together…” she shook her head.

“Together you get a lot brighter,” said Chee. “Like, a lot. Way more than double.”

His mother laughed. “I don’t have the right words- to tell you- just how beautiful it is. I wish you could see it.”

Link’s sister raised her hand like a schoolchild, her eyes on Zelda, one eyebrow intensely arched.

“…Yeah, Chee?” Link asked cautiously.

“So… are you Princess Zelda?”

Zelda couldn’t help but laugh. “I am.”

Chee gawked and whacked Link’s arm.

“Ow-“

“You landed the Princess?!”

“It’s not-“

“And you didn’t even INTRODUCE her as the Princess?!!”

“Well, I didn’t want to- to-“

“To what, brag?”

“No, it’s just not what’s im-“

“It is so important-“

“Children,” their mother said.

They ceased so completely their hands froze mid-gesture.

The older woman offered her hand, palm up, to Zelda with a kind smile.

She took it, astonished to feel warm skin, no different from anyone else’s, a mere shimmer of blue at the outline setting her apart if she looked hard enough.

“My name is Junilla,” she said, placing her other hand over Zelda’s. “I am so sincerely pleased to meet you, Princess- and overjoyed that my son has found such love in his lifetime.”

Zelda returned the gesture, placing her other hand over the spirit’s. “I am grateful,” she said, “for this chance to meet you. That Link has been reunited with you after all this time…” she took a breath, “is a blessing.” Her gaze rose from Junilla to the eyes of the bargainer. The others’ gaze followed hers.

Chee traced the unfamiliar shapes of the statue’s eyes, a hand worrying in her lap. “How- how much time do we have?”

Junilla’s hand tightened for the space of a pulse around Zelda’s, searching the stone for an answer.

“The- bargainer didn’t say how long we could speak,” Link said softly, suddenly breathing strangely.

“The choice to move on is never mine,” the statue said.

Link blinked. “So- there’s no time limit?”

“I impose nothing. Yet my gift cannot extend beyond these walls.”

Link nodded, his face flat.

--

Ponnick and several Sheikah entered the space several times to check on them, so long they remained below.

They never appeared to notice the two strange women, though the Purah Pad had been able to take their pictures.

When she and Link finally left—at 5:17am according to the Purah Pad—the women faded without even a whisper of sound to two flickering blue flames, resting together beside the bargainer.

They would wait for Link’s father.

He and Zelda would begin their search in the depths beneath Akkala to find him—under the Citadel—though the bargainer warned that spirits may drift or become bound.

“End the final tide of gloom,” the bargainer said. “Only then may they all return home.”

Link seemed to understand.

They kept their appointments in Lookout Landing and Goron City for that morning and afternoon, having skipped their detour to the hidden spring of resurrection in favor of them. Link was unusually subdued as she’d expected, and her heart fell further and further as the day lengthened.

He’d barely smiled at Yunobo’s fist-bump.

He broke down in her arms, as she’d thought he would, at home in their bed, exhausted and shuddering with a grief which should have been foreign to him, as it should be to anyone—yet he had felt it before in lesser magnitude when the spirits of their friends, their allies, had become known to him, one by one and memory by memory, a sudden knowledge of what had been lost.

He’d even grieved over her in this way, for he’d no way to know she would emerge from the Calamity’s innards as a living being.

Zelda could not imagine it.

All she could do was hold him, kiss the crown of his head, stroke his hair, tell him it was alright.

“I am here, my love,” she said. “I am with you, and I shall stay.”

He nodded, unable, for the moment, to speak.

It was days later, the Sun a deep gold resting in a bed of lavender above the stand of trees west of their garden, when Link suddenly took her by the waist with his only-for-her smile and kissed her, gentle and questioning, then deeper as she rose to meet him, passionate, her arms wrapping about his neck, their bodies moving as a single unfettered wave. Her mouth parted from his breathless.

“L- Link,” she said.

He kissed her again, on her jaw—behind her ear.

“Are- you alright?” she breathed despite her body’s insistence that now was not the time to worry.

He breathed a very soft laugh in her ear and pulled back to look in her eyes. His hands left her hips to cup her face.

He spent a very long moment just like that. When he spoke, the sweet summer breeze danced with the sunflowers, his soft voice like its rustle through the birch leaves.

“I don’t want to remember what I’ve lost only to forget what I have.”

Her hand covered one of his, pressing it to her cheek.

“I love you so much,” he said, his smile growing, a joy nestled there despite the shadow always upon his features. A hint of mischief twitched his mouth. “So much we attract poes in the dark.”

A laugh burst from her. “Link- you are indeed the love of my life, but I’d rather thought it was our magic-“

But Link was shaking his head. “Magic, sure, for glowing when we’re alone, but… the light of a thousand Suns? That’s love. I know it.”

A memory burst to her mind’s eye, of a power as though the surface of the Sun itself, flowing from her as her knight clung to the thread of life behind her.

It had been love then. She knew that. Love of Link which had hurled her bodily before him, willing to die in his stead.

She pulled him close and tight—placed a long, gentle kiss on his cheek. He breathed a laugh and nuzzled her hair.

“You are- absolutely right, Link,” she said. “Absolutely right.”

They held each other, quiet, unhurried as the soft changes in the palette of the sky, restful as the setting sun, resting in the place sought by all the little lights far below—that place in Link’s eyes: a far deeper depth than any within this earth, for eternity had no limit.

She ought to have understood it sooner.

The lifetime of the Light Dragon had been a mere blink of an eye.

Link would love her far longer.

It wasn't transient.

Nor was his love for his sister, his mother, or his yet-unfound father. What resurrection had taken from him in life would have been found beyond the bargainer's crossing, just as she and Link would follow each other to the spirit realm, to whatever lay beyond.

Some well deep within herself whispered in the language of forgotten memories, a truth woven of silent echoes, veiled shades of her many selves passing through her as a thick-muffled feeling—and in that moment, safe and warm in Link’s arms, she felt they had done so before. Over and over again, passing in and out of death and life and realms and voids and time together, and always each other’s light.

She looked at Link, eyes and mouth wide open in a sort of shock, as though seeing him for the first time—as though just having remembered him.

“Zelda?!” He ducked, flickering from feature to feature of her face, his thumbs brushing tenderness on her cheeks and temples. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“Oh- oh yes,” she said, her voice shuddering. Her next smile glowed, for him and only him, all else in reality falling from her present. “I love you, Link.”

He grew a smile to match hers and then some. “You sound surprised,” he said with a chuckle.

She took his face in her hands and kissed his mouth, softly, full of reverence, and it felt like a first time. Link’s palm came to rest flat on the table beside her, pressing hard, bracing himself against a force Zelda felt, too, and welcomed—a compulsion to rejoin, to reunite. A shocking elation flooded her that he was wholly him, that he carried no spectre of an ancient king, no matter how benevolent, by his side, and she surged forward against him, delving, caressing: worshiping.

Her kiss released by a hair’s breadth, the heat of their lips a promise of imminence. Link’s heart raced against her elbow where it met his chest. “Z- el,” he said, utterly breathless, even more than he’d made her.

“I’ve always loved you,” she said, her voice quiet’s paramour. “And I always will.”

He stood before her, an avatar of adoration, every aspect of his being focused on her, the softness in his eyes unlike any she’d seen outside those moments he watched her at pleasure’s height. He brushed his lips to hers—not a kiss: a caress.

“You understand,” he said.

She kissed him again, her hands carding through his hair, thrilled when his eyes fluttered shut. She pulled back, a pause. “I do, now.”

“Forever,” he said.

“Through death and life again,” she answered.

In bed that night, Link slept soundly, his arms wrapped around her and his head resting on her chest. She sat partway up against the pillows, stroking his hair and thinking in a way she hadn’t in her waking life: a thinking more like feeling—more like acceptance.

This life was a gift.

A time to feel with skin, with heart and blood.

A time to be separate.

Not because they wished to be—but because it made their reunions that much more joyful.

And when it came time to fade from the physical, there would be nothing to separate them. They would be as one.

Death was not the end.

Birth was not the beginning.

And love…had neither.

She held Link a little tighter, smiling at his sleeping grumble, and closed her eyes.

[iamamythologicalcreature]

Pitch Manor Progress (which is sort of like Six Sentence Sunday but also not)

It's still Sunday for five more minutes, here. SO....

Okay, I haven't written anything on the Haunting of Simon Snow in awhile. But I have been working on my floor plan for Pitch Manor, which is more than tangentially related to the potential progress of that fic. And today's a rough one for me, so I'm going to post about it like it's progress so I might feel a tad better. Ahem.

OKAY. SO. I've been working on a floor plan for Pitch Manor for... pretty much forever and a day. I ran into trouble when I was writing chapter 2 of Haunting and Simon (Construction Worker!Simon) began to describe the house. I realized... I had no idea what he was describing.

(Warning, there is a long winded geeky ramble ahead. It's just how I do things. Ahem.)

What was supposed to be a quick "let's find a floor plan that I can just copy with some minor adjustments" project has since turned into my special interest project. As a history nerd, that means a lot of research, looking at dozens of floor plans for other houses ranging in origination from the 16th century to the 20th (and probably a few older than even that, since a ton of religious buildings were repurposed into estates. Think Downton *Abbey*.)

But this past week, I feel I've really pushed through a lot of the issues I kept running into. (I've ridiculously been trying to make it as true to the descriptions in Carry On as possible, and something that fits the purposes of my fic, which of course I have envisioned in many, sometimes incompatible, ways.) I've had to make some "this or that, you can't have both" choices, but I'm finally happy with the basic shape and layout.

Whew.

Just for funsies, here's a cross section snippet of my floor plan WIP. It's pretty messy still, but I'm still excited LOL

And (finally), instead of six sentences, I will instead offer you all six tidbits of information about Pitch Manor, as I've envisioned it:

There are four (4!) different sitting rooms. Because the aristocracy just loved their sitting rooms. (Parlor, Withdrawing room, Drawing room, and Reception/Receiving room.)

There is a ballroom. Try and stop me.

The original manor house was built in the 17th century, and has been refurbished and updated a few times.

The most extensive refurbishment happened in the 19th century, which is how it gained its current stylings. (Baz is a freaking troll and I love him for it. The most popular architectural style in the Victorian era was "Gothic Revival." "It's not Gothic; it's Victorian." Hah.)

Some rooms were added on during the Victorian refurbishment, including a Smoking room. They were very popular at that time.

The largest room in the house isn't the ballroom. It's the library. (It's two stories. Try and stop me.)

(I do hope to release the floorplans into the fandom wild after they're complete, in case anyone else wants to make use of them.)

I want to ramble more. But it's almost midnight. Sooo.... Gratitude and hellos under the cut!

Thank you to @blackberrysummerblog, @shrekgogurt, @rimeswithpurple, @thewholelemon, @monbons,

and @cutestkilla for the tags. I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone is working on!

Thank you also to those of you who have willingly (I hope) listened to me ramble on about this damned project of mine for ages. Because boy howdy, do I ramble. @cutestkilla, @hushed-chorus, @artsyunderstudy, @youarenevertooold, @ic3-que3n,

@best--dress, @monbons, and @mooncello. It's good there are a few of you, that way no single poor soul has to bear the full weight of my obsession special interest. (If anyone reading this actually wants to join these ranks, hit me up on Discord XD)

Thanks also to everyone that has tagged me even when it's been ages in between progress posts from me. I appreciate being kept in the loop on what you all are up to creatively!

Hellos and howdies to @noblecorgi @bookish-bogwitch @that-disabled-princess @bazzybelle @messofthejess

@imagineacoolusername @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @prettygoododds @emeryhall @ileadacharmedlife

@valeffelees @fiend-for-culture @bubble-gumhead @brilla-brilla-estrellita @aristocratic-otter

@j-nipper-95 @whatevertheweather @ivelovedhimthroughworse @drowninginships @alexalexinii

@facewithoutheart @angelsfalling16

[casualavocados]

for zero dollars i am going to talk about the boys’ individual singing talents now because im stuck on their performances at prom night ok here we go

to start, let me clarify by saying that i myself am a singer. i come from a family (multiple generations) of singers and musicians. my mom taught voice, violin, piano, and guitar in my home growing up. it’s just ingrained in my dna, ok, but this aint about me. just know that I know what im talking about as i get into this

im really only gonna touch on the four main singers (fourth, gem, ford, and satang) but all of them have their own unique qualities and im super impressed by their live performances. singing live is HARD. singing while dancing??? HARDER. and they held up for four hours, two nights in a row. i don’t. i cant - WOW ok

so of the main four, satang, ford, and fourth lean tenor, and gemini has a bass voice (more later). let me start with satang.

THIS BOY SINGS. RIGHT. IN. HIS CRACKING RANGE. HALF THE TIME. listen, okay, there is a difference between singing in full voice and switching to falsetto sometimes than singing in your cracking range. satang has to switch between full voice and falsetto almost every other note. that is HARD. it takes serious work and practice, and slip-ups are near impossible to avoid. he also has a soft voice, and in his case, when in this cracking range he does his best when he sings low and quiet, and is more likely to crack or slide the louder he gets (fourth is exactly the opposite of this and it makes me nuts in a good way. more later). satang also has very good vibrato, and the way he uses it helps him keep control of his voice and can even disguise the cracks and slides he does have. all this being said, you have to seriously appreciate the work he has done to sing so well at the concert. please watch his part in “healing” and go insane with me. when satang is in his full voice range he does his best singing loud, but this is what i wanted to focus on bc i am so proud of him because of how tough it is. 

ford also has a soft voice, but his control comes when he sings loudly. lower pitches are more difficult for him because he has to sing softer in order to hit them, and sometimes, when singing live, that means he can get too quiet to hear. but when he’s in his range and singing full voice? ohhhh my god he kills it. he rarely misses a note. just watch his performance of “come closer”, that’s all you need to know. his vibrato isn’t as good as satang’s but he has a good ear and that makes him so fucking good at harmonizing!! ford also has a very strong and clear tone when singing in falsetto (this line in “stand” showcases it perfectly) - whereas gemini’s falsetto is softer (but just as strong). 

GEMINI. first of all, this guy has so much control over his voice it actually pisses me off. i hate him (i LOVE him and im DELIGHTED by the way this live show was able to give his voice the spotlight it deserves). okay so earlier i said gemini has a bass voice, and that’s true - while talking. he has a stellar tenor singing voice, and his voice is very soft, but very clear and strong on those lower notes (thank you “you’re blushing”). and because he has that low range, his falsetto actually becomes better, bc it means when he sings high notes, he is far far away from his cracking range. it's barely noticeable when he switches between full voice and falsetto. his vibrato aint the best live when it’s unpracticed, but he rarely slides (unless it’s on purpose). he can blend with anyone, he’s very good at harmonizing, and damn he just has a sweet sweet falsetto (featured here and in. basically every song he sings. note that gem sings "hook" mostly in falsetto and fourth does it in his full voice, alongside each other; linked below)

FOURTH. let me start by saying i am the most impressed by his live performance. i am now obsessed with his voice in a lot more ways than i was before. so i mentioned earlier that he’s the opposite of satang, in the sense that he is more likely to crack, slide, or miss hitting a pitch when he’s singing quietly. but he’s also the opposite to all three of them, because where satang, ford, and gemini all have soft voices, fourth’s voice has a very clear tone right off the bat. this makes his approach to singing vastly different from the others. his falsetto is good, but when fourth sings loud? HE DOES NOT MISS A SINGLE NOTE. this boy can BELT it out in his full voice, and that includes both high and low notes. oh my god it is insane. LISTEN. TO. THESE. RIGHT. NOW. OK? please drink some water boy ilysm. 

the fact that fourth spent those four hours, two nights in a row, singing in mainly his full voice, and absolutely kill. ing. it. the whole time is THE most impressive thing to me. do you know how much energy it takes to sing in your full voice for a long time? can you imagine how much MORE energy it must take to do that WHILE DANCING? do you know how much control over his breaths he has to have for that??!?!?! AND TO STILL SOUND THAT STRONG AT THE END OF THE SECOND NIGHT. i dont care. he’s everything to me.

honestly they all are. this is getting long so im gonna wrap it up but i have never enjoyed a live performance more in my life. these boys are so talented it's insane and gmmtv is lucky to have them.

[sickvictorianangel]

☽ Dangerous Elysium ☾

A fanfic about Dutch Van Der Linde, Arthur Morgan and John Marston's relationship with fem! reader.

Summary: Your whole life changes after a traumatic night. Lost and alone, you find yourself being saved by three outlaws. As you try to adapt to this new life full of danger and drama, you start to develop feelings for Dutch, Arthur and John.

Masterlist

Author’s Notes:

So, ya girl finally decided to post the 1st chapter of the story! Guys, I really hope you like it, and if you don't just keep scrolling and don't be rude 🥺 Any constructive criticism is good and please, if you like and reblog I will really appreciate it! ♡

TW: 18+ content, eventual smut, slow burn, maybe gore, mentions of death. Minors DNI!

The story is narrated through the reader's pov. The () are the reader's thoughts.

Tag List: @photo1030 @roamingtigress @margofiore

*I will tag anyone that wants to be alerted anytime I release a chapter from this story.

♡ Dividers by Saradika ♡

♡ Dividers (DNI) by CafeKitsune ♡

Prologue:

It was late at night, darkness had consumed everything around me. The only thing I could see was a sky full of stars, shining bright like diamonds. My face was wet from all the tears I’ve cried, the gunpowder smell still lingered on my nose. My hair was disheveled, I was a picture of pity and misery. My nightgown was the only thing shielding me from the cold air around me. I lost everything that night. My house, my belongings, all my most prized possessions. And most importantly, him... 

It was a normal day, I was working in the house while my husband was taking care of the farm animals. When the sky was a mix of orange and gray,we both retired for the night. That’s when a group of men knocked on my door. The night was silent, the only noise was the crickets and wind that swayed the trees. The knock sounded rushed, impatient. When my beautiful Henry opened the door, the last thing he saw was the bullet coming out of the cold pistol. I remember seeing him on the ground, his empty eyes staring at nothing, lifeless. No trace of the man I once loved so dearly. 

The filthy bastards invaded my home and completely destroyed me and everything I once loved. 

I still remember their cold eyes staring at the depth of my soul, the only thing I could see was pure evil, no regrets, no fear… I knew that would be my demise, and to be fair, death wouldn’t be so bad right now, the chance to be with my love again, to see my parents once more and to finally be at peace. 

That’s when shots rang from everywhere. 

Three men, on top of their horses were shouting and shooting at the bastards. Their green scarves, now stained with red. Bullets flying everywhere, a picture of chaos. I could swear those were the three knights of the apocalypse, ready to take the lives of those who stood on their way. My head went blank, as the tall and broad man, with a black hat stared at me. I saw his mouth moving but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Suddenly, my feet began to move, I didn’t have control over my body. I stared at Henry for the last time and ran, as far as I could. 

Now, I am here, alone and lost. With nowhere to go. To be fair, I know I can’t survive the night. For all I know, I can be the next meal to a hungry animal or the victim to a man’s greed. I would prefer being the dinner to a hungry puma than to suffer the latter. What I can’t understand is why the three outlaws allowed me to escape… For all I know, they could’ve killed me there or done even worse. 

And talking about them… 

The silence of the night was cut by the sounds of horse hooves, rushed, like they were on a mission. It was getting closer and closer and again, I couldn’t move. Apparently my flight or fight instinct doesn’t work. As my body shuts down, I hear their voices. The man on the white horse looked imposing. His presence alone made me understand that he was the leader. I couldn’t make out much about how he looked because everything was pitch black. Only thing I could see was the gold details on his outfit shining under the starlight. As I stared blankly at him, looking like a hopeless deer, ready to be shot, he got down his horse and approached me. 

Dutch: “Ma’am, it’s okay. We are not gonna hurt you. We followed you after we dealt with the damn O’Driscolls. They are savages and I am so sorry they did such brutality to you and your…”  He said with concern on his face. 

Y/N: “Husband…” 

(O’Driscolls… What is he talking about? The monsters that killed my Henry?)

Dutch: “You see lady…”

Y/N: “ Y/N… Y/N Y/L/N “ 

Dutch: “Mrs. Y/L/N, I’m really sorry you had to go through that. Sadly, you are not the first widow they made. But let me ask you dear, do you have anyone or anywhere to go?”

I don’t understand why he cares at all. I’m just another victim to these damn O’Driscolls, as he said. So why does he want to help me? What could he gain with that? I know I shouldn’t trust someone I don’t know, especially if they are outlaws, but something about the way he talks and presents himself gives me a sense of safety… And if he wanted to kill me, he would’ve done it by now.    

Y/N: “I don’t have anywhere to go and I don’t have anyone. It was me and my husband, and that house and everything inside it was all I had.”  I could feel the tears filling up my eyes again… 

Dutch: “I see…” He took a moment to think, by his expression, it was something of great importance. And then he proceeded with a sudden question that I didn’t know how to answer. "Would you like to join us, Mrs? You see, these two (as he pointed to the two other men, the one with the black hat being the only one I can fully remember. The other, I could only discern the long hair and maybe some dark features) are not the only family I have. We are part of a big group, we even have women and a child. So you have nothing to worry about. We only want to help you.”  

(A big group of men, and I suppose all armed as well…? And what could these women possibly do in a group like that?) 

Thing is, I don’t have a choice. And, again, if they wanted to kill me, they would do so. I literally have nothing else to lose but my own life. 

Y/N: “I would like to join you, Mister…?”

Dutch: “Van Der Linde. Dutch Van Der Linde, honey. And these two are Arthur Morgan and John Marston.” 

The other two men just tipped their hats, not fully giving me their attention. 

Y/N: “If there is no problem, I will accept joining your group… I just don’t want to cause any trouble. That’s all.”

Dutch: “Don’t worry, darling! (He said while opening his arms in a welcoming manner). No way you can be any bother. Now, let me help you, you will ride with me. We can make it to the camp before the sun starts to shine again. And of course, welcome to the family, dear.”   

John: “Welcome, Mrs. I’m sure you will like the others. Maybe not all of them, but at least the women are alright!” 

Arthur: “Shut up, Marston! Don’t go scaring the lady before she even gets to know everyone!”  

Dutch: “Okay, you two. Enough! Let’s go, we shouldn’t be mingling at these hours in the middle of nowhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if more of the damn bastards showed up. Now, Mrs, are you ready?”

As I nodded, Dutch lifted me effortlessly and put me on top of his horse. We rode through the night, peacefully. He kept his horse on a slow gallop, afraid I would fall. I could feel the cold wind on my face, drying my tears as they fell freely on my face. I knew nothing would be the same again. The life I’ve lived was long gone and I would never be the same woman. I held tightly to his waist, and as I was starting to fall asleep, I heard someone shouting. From the distance, I could see the sparkle of lights and some people talking, others singing…

“Who’s there?!” (A male voice shouted from afar)

Arthur: “It is us, Charles!” 

Charles: “Oh, welcome back! Eventful evening?” He said as he nodded his head in my direction.

Dutch: “Oh, you have no idea, friend! Damn O’Driscolls boys made poor  Mrs. Y/N a widow.” 

I couldn’t do anything but stare at Charles. He was a tall man, and looked like a nice feller. I could definitely see a glimpse of pity in his eyes as he stared directly at mine. 

Charles: “I’m sorry, Mrs. They are a nasty bunch…” 

John: “Yeah… But she is with us now, I’m sure we can keep her safe. At least we will try.” 

(Why did he say that with a smile on his face…?)

Arthur: “Marston, don’t ya think before ya talk?!”

Y/N: “Hey, it is okay. I know he is probably joking. I’m just not in a very funny mood right now… I’m sorry.” 

As I said that, trying to hold a weak smile, Mr. Van Der Linde finally spoke. 

Dutch: “None of us would be, darling. After something traumatic like that, we don’t expect you to. Now, let me introduce you to Ms. Grimshaw. I know you are in a dire need of some rest, so I will trust you in her capable hands. We can talk tomorrow about how you can contribute to the gang. She is always needing some help around.”

(Miss Grimshaw was an older and also imposing woman. She was dressed in nice clothes, hair styled perfectly and classy. A woman I wouldn’t dare to mess with. But, did he say…) 

Gang… So now I am part of a gang of outlaws.

( I mean, better than dying alone or being used by some sick bastard. Right now, the only thing I need is to try and get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day, and I’m curious as to what will hold.) 

♡ …I hope everything will be okay. ♡

[superblysubpar]

Sweet Little Lies:

steve harrington x fem!older! reader

A/N: Wow wow wow, I don’t even wanna talk about how long it’s taking me to get to requests. I really appreciate your patience and I hope you like it! Also, as always, I have to thank my sweet friends for telling me to stop overanalyzing and always helping me make things the best they can be.

Summary: Steve Harrington has been landscaping your yard all week and you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with the younger man. | masterlist | steve's music | illusions to smut - 18+

WC Range: 3k-5k

Warnings: age gap between reader and Steve (Steve’s at least 21), use of Y/L/N, reader has image / self esteem insecurities, illusions to smut, kissing

It's the kind of hot that has your hair piled up on the top of your head, pieces falling out and sticking to the sweat coated skin of your neck. The kind that has you wearing practically nothing as you wander through your house. The distinct scents of lemon, raspberry, and mint from the lemonade you made mixing with the freshly mowed grass that's just outside the open windows you're trying not to gawk in front of.

It's the kind of hot that involves shirtless, sweating, baseball hat wearing, dirty Steve Harrington.

Maybe if he catches you with your mouth open you can blame your lack of composure on the sweltering heat. 

That's it. 

The heat has fried your brain.

Because that is the only acceptable reason for a grown woman to be biting her lip as she watches a man who's significantly younger than her carry large bags of…soil? Fertilizer? Rocks? You could care less as you watch the muscles in his tanned and sweat slick back tense and vibrate with each of his movements. 

And to give yourself credit, there really is nothing wrong with what you're doing and there are plenty of perfect reasons for you to be staring. It's not like he's so much younger than you that it'd be absurd - he's a man. He's not a boy. He can legally buy alcohol and cigarettes and...you'll have to check about renting a car. But, he is young enough for you to know that this is as far as it'll get - you staring and daydreaming out the window while he landscapes your yard, telling yourself little lies about what could be.

Steve drops the bag with a groan and reaches up and removes his cap, running dirty hands through his floppy auburn locks before turning the hat backwards and grabbing a wheelbarrow, veins in his sun-kissed forearms outlined by sweat and soil visible from the window and you audibly moan.

That's just not fucking fair.

Steve turns his head, like he heard you and then you realize - wait did he hear you?

He sets the wheelbarrow down, hand rising to block the sun as he squints in your direction and calls, "Did you say something?"

fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Clearing your throat, you cringe at the high pitch your tone takes as you call out, “Um, ye-yeah! Do you want some lunch?”

Steve flips his wrist, glancing at his watch while grabbing a white shirt hanging from a chair on your deck as he calls back, “Sure!”

Heading towards your fridge, you’re pulling out sandwich fixins and the lemonade you made, turning around you almost smack right into Steve, nearly dropping the pitcher as you jump, “Oh!”

His hands steady the glass, fingers brushing yours and you’re pretty sure the lights hum and flicker, like the charge of your skin touching caused a shortage. 

He laughs, eyes squinting as he smiles, “Sorry, I thought you heard me come in, but I guess…” he gestures to the radio playing far too loudly and you spin to turn it down and he continues, stealing the pitcher from you and setting it on your counter, “I get it, Fleetwood Mac requires the volume to be loud.”

Humming a quiet agreement, you gesture to the food on the counter and he raises his hands and nods towards your kitchen sink and you step aside to let him pass, pinching your eyes closed briefly as his shoulder brushes yours. 

As Steve washes his hands you’re able to analyze the details of him with more appreciation now that he’s closer. This has been your favorite part of every day for the last week, seeing the way his muscles relax as he eats, the way he narrows his eyes to assure he gets the dirt off of his hands before helping himself to the food. Today, his white shirt clings to the sweat of his torso, highlighting the toned muscles and dark chest hair peeking through the top. As you watch the sweat from under his backwards cap bead down his jaw and neck, you’re fairly certain he has at least three new freckles and without thinking, you speak, “Do you have sunblock on?”

His lips twitch up in the corner on one side, nudging the faucet handle off with his wrist as he looks at you and shakes loose droplets into the sink, asking, “What?”

“You…uh…” closing your eyes you spin and sit at the counter, starting to pour the lemonade while chastising yourself - get it together you are not a lovesick teenager, Y/N, before continuing, “Just, it’s so hot out, and you’ve been out in the sun all week and I realized I never offered you any. I have some, under the cabinet in the bathroom if you want some, which I really think you should take it because you have two new-oh shit!”

In your embarrassing babbling, you did not pay attention to the glasses overfilling, lemonade splashing on the counter and down the front of your shirt and you stand abruptly as Steve lunges forward with a towel. 

“Sorry, geez this is just…” staring at the floor and counter and then down at yourself, “a mess.”

Steve smiles softly, hands grabbing another towel, “I think you should take it easy on yourself, Ms. Y/L/N, it’s just lemonade.”

“Steve, I told you please call me-” he nods, interrupting you.

“I know, I know, it’s just…” he pulls your hand gently up, towel wrapping around your forearm and slowly wiping lemonade from your skin as he continues, “You’re older than me.”

Heart sinking into your stomach, you try to act like that sentence didn’t just gut you, sarcasm dripping out of your pursed lips, “Wow, I had no idea.”

He smiles, eyebrows furrowing together like he’s deep in thought as his hand in the towel works up your arm. You watch his gaze land across your shoulders and chest, up your neck until he’s staring directly at you, “You don’t seem older than me. So I think I need to call you that…to remind myself that I…that we can’t…”

He trails off and the room feels fuzzy. Like someone closed all the windows and turned the heat up even higher. His eyes seem to roam over your face like they’re taking you in in all the ways you’ve been doing to him during the week, noticing his distinct pause on your lips. His hand and the towel rests on your shoulder, the other dangerously close to yours on the counter. The distance between your bodies draws closer like you’re magnetic, the intoxicating scent of grass, sunscreen and something distinctly Steve filling the tight space between you. 

Scents that you’ve only gotten whiffs of all week in passing, never this close to each other fill your nose and cloud your brain. It’s earthy and natural and…minty? His face is close enough to yours that you’re sure the mint is from his slightly parted mouth, and you’re desperate to close the remaining distance and test your theory. Eyes more green than you can usually see from the line between you that you try to keep. They’re mossy, like the work he does has encroached on every aspect of his life - in the strength and tone of his muscles, the scent of his cologne, and the color of his eyes. 

Steve’s thumb brushes up your neck, grazing baby hairs behind your ear as he moves to cradle your jaw and something finally clicks, connecting your body and your brain and you take a step back, whispering, “Steve…we…”

He blinks a few times, smiling shortly and collects the towels, tossing them in the sink. You’re suffocating in the thick and heavy tension and heat filled room, so you start to back away, “I actually…I should go start getting ready?”

Steve continues to wipe his hands and doesn’t look at you as he asks, “Ready?”

Rubbing the back of your neck before folding your arms in front of you and shrugging as you reply, “I just have this blind date sort of thing my friend set me up on. It’s just drinks, maybe dinner, and it probably won’t even…it’s not a big deal…” you're embarrassed by your information dump, especially after what it seemed like might have just almost happened with him. 

Steve glances at you over his shoulder, hands leaning on the counter to allow the veins in his forearms to stand out more as he clears his throat, “Well, he’s a lucky guy. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

Simply nodding once at his statement, you turn before you can say or do anything to embarrass yourself further, wandering to your bedroom to get ready. Because, what does he mean ‘he’s a lucky guy’? Is he jealous? Does he wish it were him? Were you really about to just kiss each other? 

Pressing your forehead to the door of your bedroom as you close it, you take several deep breaths trying to fight the overwhelming urge to run back to him and explore what potentially almost happened. 

But Steve is young, he doesn’t know what he wants, and you are older - used and bruised, and unworthy of his attention. He has a whole life to live, and you’re realizing you’ve let the sweet little lies you’ve been telling yourself all week cloud your judgment - it will never work. 

Showering the sticky lemonade off of yourself, you try to let thoughts of what could have been with him fall down the drain with the water, a clean slate - a realistic slate. Because as you think about going on this date, you can’t help but think about how you would perhaps never go on a normal date with Steve. The difference in your age would always be a looming presence, whether you both cared to acknowledge it. It would be felt in judgment and stares from strangers and even your friends, it would be felt in his curiosity of someone younger, age appropriate, and a life he could have with them, and in your guilt of taking that all away from him. 

Pressing your palms to your cheeks, you squeeze your eyes closed and remind yourself that you have no idea how Steve thinks of you, and you’ve let yourself wrap yourself up in these delusions and it is time to let them go. 

As the hours pass, you hear Steve back out in your yard and you refuse to look out the windows again, ignoring the soft grunts that fall from his lips or his voice singing along to the portable radio he always has softly playing. 

Bringing yourself to your entryway, you analyze the way your new black dress clings and hugs your body, trying to remind yourself that the curves, dips, and plush parts of your it look good and are lovely and not a bad thing like you’ve been let to believe by past relationships or society. 

When you enter the kitchen, you finally risk a glance out the back door to see Steve has finished the landscaping, loading his materials and putting them away and you sigh. It seems fitting, he’ll move on, you’ll go on this date and you’ll forget about the week you’ve had with each other. 

The phone ringing pulls you out of the bittersweet staring and you answer only to feel all the progress you’ve made with yourself plummet lower than the floor beneath your heels you’re kicking off. Of course he’s canceling. Of course the first date you’ve been on in years can’t even make it to see you before canceling. 

Pulling out a bottle of wine, you start to pour yourself a large glass and you’re removing an earring and tossing it on the counter when the sliding door opens. 

“Hey, I’m all finished up and I just wanted to say, about earlier, I…” you glance up to see him blinking at you with wide eyes. His cheeks are flushed pink and you tell yourself that it must be from the sun, but then he has to go and say something sweet and stupid as he gulps and whispers out, “Wow, you look…oh my god you look so beautiful.”

Tears spring out onto your lashes in record time and you force a laugh out in hopes to ward off their decent down your cheeks as you remove the other earring, “Steve, please don’t-”

“You do though. You look…” he clears his throat, tapping his knuckles against the counter, “Sorry, you look really lovely and have fun on your date, you’re gonna knock him dead.”

Bringing the glass up to your lips, you mumble, “I’m not going. He canceled,” a tear falls and you quickly wipe at it before continuing, “What about earlier were you going to say?”

Steve takes a careful step around the counter, eyes unabashedly roaming over your body and you instinctively wrap an arm around yourself, trying to make yourself smaller and hide any insecurities you’ve ever had from him. 

He notices and grabs your hand, pulling it away from your body, thumb brushing your knuckles as he stares at your intertwined hands before finding your face, “That guy is an idiot.”

You start to try to pull your hand away and he grabs both of your hands, drawing you closer to him as he confidently says, “Let me take you on a date. A proper one, not just drinks. You deserve a five course meal and dancing and a horse drawn carriage ride or something.”

Before you can respond, he kisses your cheek softly, lips dragging across your skin and raising goosebumps over your entire body as he places another kiss below your ear, hands moving to your hips as your breath hitches. His mouth wet and hot as it trails over your skin like he’s savoring it and he squeezes you tighter and closer to him when you don’t push him away but instead let your arms wrap around his neck. 

Stumbling backwards, he presses you into the wall and you try to stifle a moan as his teeth graze your neck before he begins sucking a bruise into your skin, bunching the clinging fabric of your dress into his hands as yours ache to card through the hair so close to your fingertips. All the thoughts, daydreams, and lies you had finally discarded rush back to you as his tongue swirls soothingly around the new mark he just gave you. Sense and realism push through the haze of lust and you try to tell him that this isn’t going to work. 

“Steve,” his name comes out of you in a barely audible breath. 

His lips brush down the column of your throat as he hums in response. 

“What…what are we doing?” Your eyelids flutter as he leaves a trail of soft kisses down your shoulder and you push out the rest of your thought, “Steve, you don’t want this, you don’t want me.”

Your words stop his kissing and he pulls away just enough to look you in the eyes. His hand reaches up to cradle your jaw, a calloused thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he whispers, “Who made you believe you aren't worthy of this kind of love?”

His question renders you speechless - it settles in the air around you, heavy and hazy like the Indiana heat and makes you a little dizzy. Staring into his eyes, you’re desperate to see something in them that you’ve always yearned for in others. As they soften in their gaze upon yours, his thumb sending electric buzzing through you as it brushes back and forth across your cheek, you realize you don’t have to search for long. The fading summer sun has his hazel eyes melting into a warm honey, the deep green from earlier now just flecks peeking through. They seem to burn straight into yours, right down to your heart - like ivy or moss growing over bricks, threatening to crack the wall you’ve placed around it. 

Steve leans in closer, his breath fanning warm across your already heated skin, nose brushing yours as he practically pleads with you. His voice soft and longing, washing over you like the rain the summer aches for, “Let me show you how you deserve to be loved,” his mouth hovers over yours, a gentle graze of his top lip to your bottom, testing the line he’s desperate to cross, “Please.”

Your body gives in before your brain can truly catch up and your mouth parts under his, letting him swallow any doubts or insecurities you might have. He hums into you, large hands tilting your head gently to allow him more access to deepen his kiss. Lips moving tenderly over yours like you aren’t the only one who’s been imagining this moment for a week, both of you wanting to savor the taste and feeling of each other. 

That first kiss with Steve Harrington is exactly like the fading sun on the horizon. It’s warm, soft, and tinged in sweet sherbert colors that make you hum when it hits your lips, fingertips tingling, and tinting his cheeks. It’s breathtaking and almost slow enough you don’t even notice the way the colors and your lips deepen to darker shades of want and hunger for each other. It’s fleeting at the same time, inching closer and closer to disappearing all together, because eventually you have to part from one another. The first kiss is over too soon and then the moment is no longer golden, but tinged in the darker blues and purples of twilight. Dangerous and lust filled as your clothes start to get pulled from each other’s bodies in a desperate energy that the darkness welcomes and makes it easier to slip into in a way the spotlight of the day cannot allow. Giving in to letting each other believe in the possibility of what this could mean and disappear into one another as the day does into the night.

But Steve doesn’t allow the night to cover you in darkness, his hands and kisses lighting you up wherever they caress and brush, shining a spotlight on every inch of you as he whispers praises and compliments into your skin. He’s soft, sweet, slow - like he has every eager intent to explore your body until the sun comes up again. The sounds of the birds and buzzing day now turned to frogs and crickets filtering in through the still open windows, fireflies dancing in celebration of the faded light. The night doesn’t deny the sweltering hazy day, but seems to only turn it up - each kiss a dip in water that was heated by the summer sun all day, now cold and refreshing.  Moonlit and magical, your bodies moving together don’t have any concept of time or age like your brains did earlier. You simply exist together like that’s how it’s always been and how it’s supposed to be. 

Fingertips trailing over freckles, dips, curves, and muscles in each other like you’re charting constellations on one another’s skin. Bodies and lips crashing into each other like meteors, pieces of your heart fragmenting and combining with his. Being together is planets aligning and a whole galaxy behind your eyes as you cry out his name into his lips that are breathing out yours. And even when it’s all over, there is still plenty of night left to continue exploring. Lips brushing over knuckles, fingers carding through hair, and legs tangling together as you talk about everything and nothing. Until you’re waking to the rising sun, wrapped in each other’s arms. Ready to do it all again, every day you’ll let each other believe in it. 

tag list for steve: @boomhauer @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

What’s Yves like musically? Like what kind of music does he listen to? I know he can play the harp about I also get the vibe that he has a nice singing voice,, maybe not professionally but if you asked him to sing for you one day, he’d have a soothing singing voice

Yves has a beautiful singing voice. He has a lot of experience in choirs and in a more professional musical setting. It has developed over the years in a rich, clear, baritone voice. Yves has insane control over his vocal chords and sings in a wide range, he wouldn't just showcase it out there; but he could sing any note on the piano, and his pitch will be absolutely on point.

He can also convincingly mimic a woman of any age. Yves utilizes his impersonation talent to carry out his reality bending and manipulation. It's more convenient and reliable that way as opposed to hiring someone to do it for him, potentially leaking sensitive data.

Yves enjoys attending operas and listening to classical music. It may or may not be something you like, but you wouldn't know unless you asked him or you expressed interest in it more than once. Not to say that he's a music snob, he appreciates Hip Hop for it's creative wordplay and beats. There isn't anything he actively dislikes, maybe he is less fond of genres that are too fast and too overwhelming. Microgenres such as breakcore isn't his cup of tea, but he acknowledges its distinctiveness and unrestrictiveness.

He will sing you to sleep if you wanted him to. Yves's honeyed voice will soothe you almost instantly. Even if the world is ending, Yves has a voice that can convince you it is not.

A voice that tells you everything is going to be alright, and you will always have a protector by your side.

[hollowwrites]

Blindsided

Part 12

Ominis x MC

Summary - Ominis is back and he’s a little bit worse for wear. Fortunately, Evelyn knows a thing or two about pain

I’ve gone full on head-canon, no lore accurate Drabble here!! I just want to take care of Omi okay? Leave me be!

As always swap Evelyn for your own MC or Y/N

Warnings - Mentions of pain, Medical stuff (the mildest ever I honestly don’t know what i’m talking about), Kissing, lil bit of biting…just a nibble.

Word Count - 1993

~

The Room of Requirement seemed different every time she entered nowadays. She’d told Poppy about its location and its menagerie of beasts and told her it was hers. She still used it to brew potions and grow plants but The Room had now broken into wings.

Poppys was warm and open. A constant display of the sky and stars, no doubt from the time Amit spent there with her.

Evelyns’ had changed drastically since fifth year. The Vivariums completely gone and transferred to Poppy, only a small greenhouse like building with a potions stand remained. A book nook was tucked haphazardly up the corner with stray vines cupping at the small sofas legs. Any available surface either had a book, a plant or tea cup sat upon it. The gentle constant hum of distant water echoed through the glass hall and little flocks of birds busied themselves through from her wing to Poppys’.

Ominis couldn’t appreciate any of this in his current state.

The persistent ringing in his ear left him without his dominant sense. He relied completely on his wand, for once, and the gentle pull of Evelyns hand in his.

She gently guided him to the sofa and asked him to sit whilst she readied a bowl of water, some clean wash clothes and a variety of Wiggenweld Potions. The sound of distant clinking, vial against vial rang in Ominiss’ good ear.

“This is payback for fifth year isn’t it?” He said sitting back against the sofa. He smirked but it sat oddly on his face. Like he was anticipating pain. His nose flared as he took long exaggerated breathes.

“Well you did coerce me into spending the day with you. And force fed me Wiggenwelds. Speaking of…” she took his hand and placed the vial in it. “Drink”

His face twisted up in disgust before he did as he was told and downed the putrid liquid. He coughed

“With how good you are at potions I assumed your Wiggenwelds would taste better” She laughed breathily. Not like he can talk. His did more damage than good.

Ominis could suddenly feel her presence over him as she manoeuvred between his legs. She tilted his head slightly up and to the side, her cool finger tips gently gripping his jaw.

He longed for his senses to return to him.

He needed to know if her heart yearned for him, like his did for her. Needed to hear the way her heart stuttered like the evening behind the Quidditch pitch.

He felt himself lean forward, sitting up straighter to get closer to her, knee knocking against knee, when he shifted.

For the time being, he lived in this fantasy world where she tended to him sweetly. Whilst she lived in the real world, starring at the worst Crucio scarring she’d ever seen. Even his old ones across his chest were smaller than this. Its tip started somewhere in his ear and swirled down across his neck and throat and over her collar bone. The bruising was a deep purple almost red at its centre. Like it radiated pain.

“Your brother…he must have really meant it…” she whispered, pulling his collar down and inspecting the bruise.

Ominis didn’t respond. He simply sighed.

She hovered her hand near its centre and could feel its energy against her finger tips. A small crackle of red lightening snapped up to her finger.

“When did this happen?” She asked sternly.

“About…three hours ago…” he stretched his back and neck out. “He did it as I was leaving. Maybe to get me to stay…I don’t know”

“I’m sorry” she said and kissed his temple.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m sorry you ever had that family.” She spat, her venom aimed at his brother and parents, not him. He sighed again before he twitched and squirmed in agony. A deep visceral hiss left his chest, the familiar echoey allure of Parseltongue filling the glass room.

She held his hand as he rode out the wave of pain. He’s been through…too much

He sat slumped over, panting as it subsided.

“I’m going to get some materials that might help okay?”

He squeezed her hand in response, unable to speak in his current state.

Moving away from him, reluctantly, she gathered the items she had been studying over the years.

After Sebastian had become somewhat obsessed with the Dark Arts, Imelda refused to take it easy after Quidditch started again, and even she couldn’t seem to stay away from getting injured, Evelyn had taken it upon herself to learn some of the Healing Arts. She never thought she’d be using them on Ominis. He was her safe space. He was supposed to always be safe.

“So I’ve been reading about Pain Relief. Pain derived from a curse is complicated but…I think I can stop the bruising. You may still experience tremors for the next few days. It’s an Unforgivable, there’s…not much I can do there.” She mumbled most of it, not completely sure of her abilities.

Ominis barely heard her. The ringing in his ear became louder after the last wave of pain. He tried to focus on what he could comprehend.

She smelt like Roses and freshly cut grass. Floral and sweet.

Her touch felt like a cool breeze on a warm sunny day and…unconditional love.

Her voice, though he barely made out the individual words, sounded like a calming lullaby. She only ever sounded like this with him.

Her softness was reserved only for him.

He was quiet for a long time.

She rang out the cloth in the tiny basin she brought over, carefully tipping some Wiggenweld onto the dampened cloth.

“I don’t know if this is going to do much but…it might make the bruising less painful” she returned to between his legs holding his other shoulder, bracing him “I also don’t know if this is going to hurt”

“What a fantastic nurse you are” he teased, but the tone was warped as he spoke through his teeth.

She rolled her eyes, ignoring his snippy tone and pulled gently at his collar. The bruising got worse as she pulled his shirt away and she couldn’t help the gasp that left her.

“Ready?” She continued softly, despite his attitude.

“I’m ready” he said shifting in his seat, reading for the potential pain.

As carefully as she could manage, she dabbed at the bruising, keeping the cloth over its centre, just above his collarbone.

Thankfully, it was not painful. The Wiggenweld sank into his skin and he breathed out a long and heavy sigh. She watched as the bruise retreated away, as though the cloth was absorbing it.

“That…feels nice. Thank you Ev-ARGH” he grunted once more as a wave of pain enveloped him. His hands flew to her waist, fingers digging into her side.

“Shhhh okay…it’s okay” she wrapped her arm around the unmarred side of his neck, keeping the Wiggenweld soaked cloth pressed to his neck. Whilst his forehead pressed against her stomach mumbling incoherently into her, she lightly rubbed small circles into his back. “I’ve got you” she whispered

Then…

“Ah…” he sat up suddenly and seemed to look around, sighing contently “I can hear you…properly” he smiled.

It was like he’d resurfaced from water. The popping of his ear was painful, but it was worth it to be able to see her again. His increased senses returned to him under the restorative properties of the Wiggenweld and he reached out to her, confidently, her heartbeat like a lighthouse amongst a choppy sea. His hand sought her out, his palm resting on the flat plane of her chest. The rapid thumping of her heart against his fingertips lined up with the rhythm in his ears.

“There you are” he breathed a sigh of relief. He felt and heard her heartbeat racing “My little Hummingbird”

Thank Merlin he is blind.

The tingly sensation of her cheeks reddening was stronger than she had ever felt.

My Little Hummingbird

His.

She smiled placing her hand over his.

“I just need to clean you up” she whispered. Her voice so quiet she wasn’t sure she’d actually said anything.

“First…” he stopped her hand moments from dabbing at his skin, looping his fingers around her wrist. The hand resting on her chest ran up along her collarbone and around her neck. His fingers weaved through her soft hair and pulled her down to him. “…If I may”

It didn’t really seem like a question. Not the way he said it. Not the way she heard it.

And she didn’t need to give permission. The small whimper that left her lips was enough.

Her hand went limp, dropping the cloth to the sofas cushions and gently cupping his face. They met in the middle, both seeking each other out equally.

Their lips touched softly to begin with. A surprise to both of them. After three days neither imagined such a tender moment would occur. More of a desperate raking of nails and skin and teeth.

The warmth of her lips against his was something Ominis was certain he would never tire of. He had already committed their last kiss to memory, it playing over and over in his mind as he dealt with his family.

But this one was so different.

So much more.

She poured her love and sympathy and heartbreak into him, gliding smoothly over his lips as she deepened the kiss.

She tilted his head up, leaning further in, her chest pressing against his. His hand resting on her hip glided down her thigh and pulled her into his lap. It was probably meant to be sweet. But his nails dug into the fabric of her shirt and carried down on to her legs, leaving red lines of tortured want in its wake.

She gasped. Her lips parting a fraction and Ominis took that opportunity.

He took her lip between his teeth, his tongue running over the flesh he’d gathered. He delighted in the little noises he pulled from her. The tiny gasps and needy mewls, each like a sirens song drawing him closer to…he didn’t know what. Just that it was probably worth it.

Another strangled gasp left her as he pulled on her lip. Letting go, he nudged her chin upwards with his nose, kissing down the length of her neck. He felt the vibration of her groan against his lips causing him to chuckle.

It was unlike any laugh she’d ever heard from him.

It was throaty and deep and sultry.

Like he was fully aware of the affect he was having on her.

“Ominis…” she keened, her hands gripping at the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

Both had forgotten about the last three days.

And the scar

And the fact he still bore that Curse.

The trail of cold left behind from his open mouthed kisses made Evelyn shudder. His lips circled the tissue between her neck and shoulder. Purring, he took it between his teeth…

Before clamping down harder than either of them had anticipated.

He whimpered and shuddered in pain as another wave of the Cruciatus hit him. The yelp that erupted from Evelyn caused him to gaze up at her with a furrowed brow.

“Are you okay?” He grunted through gritted teeth.

She rubbed at her neck, feeling the tiny indentations of his teeth across her trap.

“Yes fine. Are you?” She held his face searching for any remaining pain from this swell of the curse.

“Mmmmmmmmgh” after releasing a breath he held on to, he continued “Perhaps…this isn’t a good idea, not right now”

She exhaled through her nose, the slightest hint of amusement gracing her tone

“Perhaps not” she brushed the hair from his face as she spoke “There’s always next time”

“Oh…” he gripped her waist, pulling her closer one finally time “…I am beyond thrilled, to hear there will be a ‘next time’”

Masterlist

[retphienix]

So after many many many years I'm finally playing Starbound and it's been, interesting.

So out the gate, some context on my 'experience' before playing.

When starbound came out I was OBSESSED. I wanted it so bad because it was colloquially considered "Better Terraria".

If you weren't active in this section of gaming at the time, it really was painted that way.

Terraria at the time of Starbound's release had just hit 1.3, Moon Lord is finally a thing.... but there's something to be said of what pop culture knew vs the reality- because Terraria's time in the spotlight was finally slowing and most people thought of WoF as still being the end game. Another group still thought of the mechanicals and Plantera as the end-game range of things- Moon Lord was NEW but also the audience was momentarily distracted away from this silly 5 year old 2D minecraft.

It wasn't uncommon for the discussion around Terraria to be "Oh yeah that was fun, but did you hear about the 'kickstarter' for Starbound? It's Terraria IN SPACE!

A former dev of Terraria just up and left and made BIGGER, BETTER Terraria!"

Or that was the casual pitch between gaming circles.

The hype was heavy and I never got to play it, womp womp.

Fast forward a few years and talk starts up about Starbound again, for all the wrong reasons.

The main guy did some mega shitty things to contributing artists and didn't compensate them, videos begin appearing in my circle of the internet that both exposed this story and talked on the game at large.

I learn that this indie darling title apparently SUPER failed to meet expectations over time. That it promised ports that never happened. That updates apparently focused on aspects it didn't need to and the end result is a messy title with a TERRIBLE gameplay loop for the main quest, among other things.

At this time I decide to glance back over to Terraria, a game that had sat off my radar despite my initial love for it- and I find out Terraria FUCKING EXPLODED.

TERRARIA BECAME A FUCKING MEGA HIVE OF CONTENT AND QUALITY THAT YOU CAN DEDICATE 120 BILLION HOURS INTO AND LOVE EVERY SECOND.

From humble beginnings, lol.

So at this time I figured I lucked out, in a sense. Starbound always looked interesting, but I got to enjoy Terraria back in its humble days AND at it's height today, it's okay that I didn't play Starbound, I probably won't bother :)

Then a bud who casually enjoyed it years ago bought it for me since I was talking about Terraria and I figured "Fuck it, let's find out."

And uh, Buddy lol

Okay, my experience so far, because it's kind of a roller coaster of highs and lows.

Right out the gate my first hour or so was Not particularly fun.

Combat felt terrible, the weapon you start with has a bizarrely unfun combo it deploys and movement SUCKED- it felt bad to fight and it felt bad to explore, I was not happy- but:

I have eyes, I can see in my inventory that I'm missing "Techs" and I begin finding a couple (still bad, but less bad) weapons and start thinking "Okay, okay I'll keep going this is obviously not the game yet."

By the time I get to the outpost and unlock my techs I've also got a couple new weapons- I'm still mostly unimpressed with melee, with all the flashy energy depleting moves not making up for how they "feel" to me, especially with how many enemies either CHARGE, or shoot, but I'm beginning to enjoy combat because of the alternatives.

Shields are a nice addition that makes 1 handed weapons my immediate preference since many of them don't rely on bad combos or gimmicky (underwhelming) energy attacks.

Guns become more common and I'm REALLY enjoying the gunplay since they ALSO get secondary fires- it's at this point I realize this isn't entirely different from Terraria where most players (myself included) find ranged combat with magic, bows, guns, throwables, and even non-true melee to be more fun than true melee- I appreciate the comparison.

Movement becomes IMMEDIATELY less shit with techs. Some techs are underwhelming, but I become a fan of the multi jump and spike ball rather quickly.

I enjoy the quest to repair the ship, though I'm mostly getting the hang of things and my weapons still aren't "really" shining.

Once my ship is repaired I'm sent on the first Trek, this is both the beginning of my least favorite part of the game AND this SPECIFIC instance is 100% my favorite part of my experience thus far.

At this point I can move my ship, I get a mech, I am told to explore a planet and scan things to get access to a dungeon, and this entire process feels like a training montage of sorts- I'm learning to use my tools and I'm making some upgrades to my gear and home base, it's nice!

I gather a lot of resources but before I can really use them I've completed the scan and go in to the dungeon.

I FUCKING LOVED my entire time in the Florian dungeon.

I've got my weapons in check, I'm loving the dungeon challenges, I'm tricking enemies into traps, I'm LOVING it- at this moment I'm at the highest point, movement is feeling nice in this arena, combat feels great, the boss was fun- love it, 10/10

I can't emphasize enough that this Trek from "research stuff" to "First dungeon" was my most fun period with my grasp of mechanics growing during the Trek and then the dungeon being a REALLY fun arena to play with it all- loved it!

I even explored a hostile glitch castle for the hell of it because I had all these new toys and wanted to :D

...

Then it ended.

Then I get told to just, do it again. The research part immediately becomes my least favorite thing in the game. It was fun in the context of 'training' as I learned how to play, but now I have to travel to new planets that have 1 or 2 new ores and seek out key items to scan- I'm bored, I hate this. Where's my miniboss fight like on the first planet or when you repair the ship? Where's the hand crafted content? I'm just finding wood homes and scanning whatever is highlighted green.

I return home and realize something else I hate, crafting becomes a fucking chore. I upgrade all my benches and realize actually using them is a challenge in defeating tedium and nothing more.

You can't craft from benches using nearby chest contents- a common mod in games of this sort (which isn't available as a mod here), you can't craft from chest content AT ALL since you can't open the crafting menu and a chest at the same time (A feature Terraria has which alleviates this problem altogether), chests are TINY- even the best of which like the one in your ship are not big enough to hold every kind of crafting material you'll find, and the game FLOODS me with new resources that all do mostly nothing.

I end up with 10-20 filled 20-40 slot chests of blocks and materials and crafting immediately becomes unbearable because you can't even sort or quick stack with chests.

I hate it.

So now I'm confronted with the crafting aspect of the game becoming suddenly unusable, storage becoming annoying as hell, and the game saying "Go scan stuff, idiot :)" and I'm just frustrated.

So I opted to try and improve these aspects.

I sought out basic mod workshop support to make these 2 problems less annoying because I realized "This fucking game is going to ask me to do this SIX times, ridiculous."

I found some basic storage mods that let you manage containers so they can sort, search, and quick stack along with increasing chest size based on overworld size (It results in chests being buffed across the board)- this all told really did fix my crafting problem because while I still can't open a chest and craft from it like Terraria- I can now actually fucking find my stuff in this mess because BASIC QOL fucking exists for chests now (and I no longer need 15 chests for materials which helps too lol).

The research problem was a bit tougher to tackle because I didn't want to just change the entire game with like a "skip this part" button, or by playing an overhaul mod, I wanted to play Starbound- I just want to make it more enjoyable.

So after passing over a lot of mods I found something.... interesting to attempt and make the enforced exploration grind less annoying- an RPG mod that makes killing things give xp so you can improve and refine your character over time.

A unique solution, but my thought process was that I had just made crafting no longer a complete chore- so I have "small" reasons to explore for materials right now, but I needed another motivator on top of that and then exploring and scanning stuff would become less annoying- so "grinding xp" + "collect materials" sounded like enough to me and I installed and got started.

My second Trek was miles less fun than my first, but my solutions did help quite a bit.

Researching just feels entirely worthless- I scan a gong and get told "Yep, they swing at this thing" and that somehow eventually teaches me that they had a library someplace. It's... stupid! It's unfun and stupid. On paper it's clearly "encouraging exploration" but they didn't make exploration fun since every planet is a nothing-burger with some ore in it.

The most interesting thing I found was the hostile glitch castle and that was NOT RELEVANT to anything progression based! Every planet I find stuff to actually scan is just a boring landmass with some chests- why not toss more mini-bosses like the starter planet has onto these? Force me to fight a mini-boss to discover the next dungeon- don't tell me to go "scan a vase" wth???

My mods pan out, I end up focusing on them a lot more than the dumb scanning task (again, why not mini-boss progression instead, scanning is not gameplay) and I make it to the second dungeon.

The second dungeon.... is.... fine?

The first was SO FUN and the second is just a lot of empty rooms and far less exploration to be had? I mean the first was also a straight path but it was designed well enough to have fun- this one arguably has more routes but far less to enjoy while exploring?

No fun traps or enemies in death boxes, just tubes and mountains of books.... a severe downgrade.

That was capped off with a much less fun boss as well. Instead of being more freeform like the spider, the sword boss is just "Learn the pattern and hit them when they are stuck in animations or "exhausted"" and.... it's fine.

Just like how the dungeon on paper is "fine and expansive" but in practice feels less fun to explore than the florian one, the boss on paper is perfectly acceptable- a billion bosses work like this- the FIRST dungeon boss works like this more or less- but the damage is high to punish you and it's just not fun?

The rush ball attack is just fucking stupid to avoid or block so I just gave up and tanked half the damage during that phase because you can survive every time and fuck that move it's stupid.

But core to it all, it was disappointing and unfun. The spider was fun to shoot and avoid and spawned adds and you had an AI buddy helping- it was neat!

This boss was just "Stand on the bookcase and shoot down at her. Okay jump now. Okay rush ball so block and dodge. Okay wail on their stupid health bar while they are tired. Rinse repeat a couple times and you win."

And that's pretty much where I am now.

I had a bad first impression.

An okay time repairing the ship,

A REALLY REALLY REALLY good first trek + dungeon.

A sudden blast of annoyance at how crafting and progression is handled with bad QOL and even worse quest design (scanning).

I modded it slightly to improve this and had a decent time on the second trek + dungeon but vastly less fun than the first.

All in all, I haven't begun to experience any of the things I only half remember from retrospective videos talking about uneven development pitfalls, but my experience has been plenty uneven all the same lol.

Really it just comes down to me being annoyed that so little thought was put into QOL for crafting despite having so many materials and me being VERY FUCKING ANNOYED at the scanning progression objective- it's just not fun or properly encouraging exploration- it's busy work- it's bizarre?

I mean hell, now I'm going out scanning bird relics to find the bird coords.

I'M BIRD.

I'm looking at crates identical to the crates I've supposedly seen my entire life and going "Oh I see, this definitely gets me 3% closer to finding the next dungeon" this objective isn't good lmao.

It feels like something a version 1.2 release of the game would revamp and remove so that you instead get directed towards the proper star/planet combos to find semi-pre-genn'd towns that tell you to go to pre-genn'd dungeons to fight a mini boss like the first planet does. Like legitimately- THAT is exploration showing you each race's theme and giving fair explanation as to why you now know the coords (they tell you them for killing the boss, or the boss has it etc).

THAT is what the game should have been like 5 years ago, instead they stuck with this placeholder model which is not particularly entertaining lol.

Anywho. I'm rather enjoying myself now that I've given myself more reason to explore with mods. Hoping beyond hope that the game shakes up this scan objective going forward but uh... doubting it.

I really am sorry to have my first (only?) post about Starbound be so negative on things but it's my experience with it so far. And I really can not emphasize enough- that first trek + dungeon combo FUCKED. It was SO FUN shooting shit and rolling around and running into some pre-gen content that gave purpose to the random-gen stuff around it (the castle I stumbled upon and the mini-dungeons you go through to repair the ship followed by the good dungeon you do for the florian orb). All great there :)

[monkey-network]

The Disposable Era of Cartoons

There exists many cartoons in the world that a vast majority never really bring up, and that's okay. Not everyone can watch everything all the time and you can argue that we only scratch the surface since the beginning. I've always had this deep seeded thought however of how animation's been treated, notably of tv shows. Browsing my usual "streaming" sites, I often come upon a show I've never heard of before. One just recently was Zokie of Planet Ruby, a series made by Nelvana, hosted by Nickelodeon, with its entire first season dropped on Amazon Prime on the last day of 2023. Overall, it's not a show I'm interested in, but how it was just dumped onto streaming upon other factors like that got deep seeded thought resurfacing into a theory. A theory regarding the potential era where excess is reaching its apex.

Animated TV shows I say are more arduous to make than films. Not to say films are more effortless to produce, god no, but have better limits given you'll have a set script and runtime to work off of as opposed to having to constantly produce multiple at a time for episodes ranging from 7 to 22 minutes. We work on a timeline where it's hard to believe any new story isn't derivative of already told stories, but the beauty does come in how we're able to transform them with new purposes and concepts. The workload however can be a lot many recognize but don't grasp themselves only as outsiders. The pitch getting greenlit is just the big toe in the door, finally stepping in is a matter of juggling multiple episodes a day, revising and editing, deliveries to the animators, all for the hope that it gets back in time to air. This is where I've come to appreciate The Simpsons, good and bad. Regardless of a recent season's quality, it's undoubtedly difficult to schedule fresh ideas that can stick with the same concepts for 30+ years, all to meet the quota by the beginning of the autumn season. Things have shifted thanks to streaming.

In retrospect, what felt like a novel idea was inevitably gonna turn into a capitalistic nightmare. It makes some sense that Netflix wouldn't have a monopoly on hosting every show from cable TV to be put on their newly founded streaming site in 2007. It wouldn't have been long before every other studio threw their hat in, developing their own stream sites with the properties they made and owned themselves. Competition is natural, but now you're basically spending the same prices as cable or satellite if you wanted to watch every show you remembered seeing on TV. Sites like Tubi and PlutoTV I say are the saving graces where you can shockingly find a ton of film/shows old and new for free, but you've probably seen shows and films getting removed from the sites they originate from, either to be traded to another site or written off for good because investment returns weren't a shake 'n bake. All this is because of rights ownership and a complex web of cost cutting against the people behind said shows and films. What does this mean for cartoons, though?

Like TV shows, you're gonna have a few poster boys upon a ton of shows nobody beyond avid seekers are gonna bother remembering. This has been a trend long in the making, but while many shows can be greenlit and made it can be a crapshoot as to whether the company actually believes in that show enough to market it. For Nickelodeon, it's an open secret that any cartoon not an instant hit like Spongebob, despite little promotion from the company, would be chucked onto the Nicktoons network to run out their remaining episodes. With streaming however, you'd either get something like Zokie of Planet Ruby where everything's dumped without warning or Glitch Techs where it's stuck in development limbo with half its episodes un-aired or incomplete. This isn't just with Nick however. Disney and Cartoon Network has had its fair share of duds everyone's slept on if they weren't massively eyecatching regardless of quality. The fates of their existence is dependent on who's keeping an eye on the companies. This isn't to say shows like Infinity Train and Final Space, which got removed digitally back in October and December respectively, didn't have their supporters who expressed outrage. It's to say other shows couldn't get that level of reported support, and I feel it's only going to get worse.

This is what I believe amounts to the theoretical "Disposable Era" of television, where we aren't just having companies dispose shows but create shows that are purposefully disposable. For websites designed to stream cyclically endless content, this will mean an exponential ton of commissioned projects for cheap that anyone will pick up once, never watch again, and can be written off immediately after a small period because no one outside the crew responsible would notice, incapable of viewing unless someone miraculously torrents everything. While I've brought up TV in general as opposed to just animated stuff, I personally feel the efforts and imaginative possibilities of animation count more for the generations that grow up with them as much as the influences they can have on artists. And I can feel it's discouraging for creators to know that their work can be eventually assembly lined, worst than reality tv, and then erased for tax breaks because nobody thought about them for more than the weekend they binged it all.

This is all if you don't account for anime studios like MAPPA which are a whole other horrifying story

I say "theoretical" because we aren't that far to where it could be possible. Shows do take time to make, and even if companies are pushing AI it's barely able to be anything more than an asset for certain cases. People have their reasonable fears, but an animated show fully AI generated that lasts more than 2 7-minute episodes, at this point in time, is a wet dream from investors. AI will not easily replace the craft, but the craft will be abused year after year with of how many shows get greenlit, made within a couple years, only to be thrown out when the numbers don't appease. This doesn't mean we won't get quality gems, but the rough they come from will pile more and more, and the gems some find that the majority will ignore will be written off and vaulted. I say the inception behind my theory wasn't exactly from the recent stuff like David Zaslav or Paramount's haphazard treatment of their content, it goes a little further back.

Hanazuki: Full of Treasures wasn't a huge series back in 2017, but it was one I enjoyed a lot when it was premiering on Youtube at the time. After its first season finished, Hasbro would produce a theatrical short to coincide with the My Little Pony movie in October. This is where I felt things fell apart. While the film was a commercial success, the short was basically overshadowed and I can't help imagine was what affected the series by the time it got a season two. 2019 was where Hanazuki not only got its broadcast season cut, Hasbro would basically start erasing its existence while supposedly having in development limbo since. While it was all thankfully reuploaded, you wouldn't have been remiss to know Hasbro couldn't even allow it to stay on Youtube after its TV broadcasting.

Everything surrounding rights ownership and royalties has basically developed an endless turmoil of how shows and their crew are treated. I don't blame anyone for not discussing or mentioning everything that gets to exist. Variety is never a bad thing, and sometimes people want certain things because again not everyone thinks or enjoys stuff homogeneously. It's just always increasingly bothered me that so much can get pumped out to be either taken away or left there for people to stumble across. TV's become Youtube but more business heavy where creativity is a tightrope of whether their appeal gets to live for more than a week or not. Like Youtube though, can also be lost to time to no one looking back. Let's just say David Zaslav running WB is only considered the worst because he's become the biggest face of an open secret. He could very well be the beginning of a shift that could lead us into the Disposable Era, and it's anyone guess of how bad it could get.

With all this said, I don't believe preventative hope can't exist, especially without the effort. Piracy is already doing enough for preservation and availability, even if you gotta have adblock to watch them properly. More creators I feel should learn and process the rights they can have with their properties. If there's anything I learned from artists Bill Watterson and Making Fiends' creator Amy Winfrey, is that production syndicates will abuse their knowledge of the law to do as they see fit, especially when it comes down to what you're offering them. The eventual animators and VFX work strikes could provide something more stable, but that's all in due time. How much the average audience member can retain or hyperfixate on is not something to concern, rather that it happens at all. The best solution is finding a middle ground between the disposable and sentimental; more people being vocal about good stuff they found no matter how small. There can be pushback from online lethargic asshats, but it's far better than complaining about the multitude of reboots or how woke everything's become. Something is only as disposable as nobody proclaims otherwise.

but that's all just a theory.