#everything else was me liking engage a hell of a lot more than i thought i would

[squiddlyarts]

Art compilation! All in one post because why not!

[saturnville]

what happens in madrid… [1/2]

pairing: jude bellingham x black oc (naomi sinclair) summary: what happens in madrid… warnings: none. tags: @emjayewrites @cocobutterqwueen @neeville @neewrites @cosmic-parker + anyone else who likes football fics? let me know if you want to be added! an: when I tell you this took me forever…I truly hope you like my delusions put into a fic 🩵 and this gif!!!

part two: …stays in madrid

“Let me take you out. Make your trip one to remember.”

Naomi considered herself a smart woman. University-educated with street smarts that were more profound than a person would assume for her age. She intentionally thought through every scenario; understanding that everything she said, thought, and did came with a consequence.

She didn’t know what it would take to see a six-foot man with caramel skin and chocolate brown eyes approaching her at a local restaurant and boldly attempting to woo her, to let go of all her inhibitions and throw her common sense out the window. She knew him, yes, but she didn’t know him. Hell, he could kill her within the next five minutes.

Did it phase her? No. For once, she let her curiosity outweigh her logical mind and fell victim to his gleaming smile and charming nature. She was on vacation, she tried to reason the best she could. On vacation and being pursued by a fine young man who insisted she have a good time during her stay. So, she pushed her hair over her shoulder and gave him a smile that raised his eyebrows in interest. “Pick me up from here tomorrow.”

-

“Well aren’t you beautiful,” he complimented as she walked toward his vehicle, dark and brooding, much unlike the man he’d presented himself as. His comment had her lips curling upward to a smile. She thanked him, accepted the kiss on her cheek, and tried not to fold when he guided her to the passenger’s seat.

“Thank you,” Naomi replied after some time. “You are dually handsome, sir.” And that was a fact. She appreciated his subtle approach to fashion. Everything he wore was high-end, that was evident, but it wasn’t flashy. His aura and confidence spoke for him. He wore the black button-down and matching short set with an easy confidence. The dark sunglasses over his eyes completed the look, only emphasizing her thoughts.

Jude smiled and proceeded to drive out of the hotel lot. They engaged in small conversation, picking up from where they left off the previous night. They were different but had a lot in common. She, too, was the oldest of two, save she had a sister rather than a brother. Unlike her, her sister didn’t take an interest in football, rather participated in cheerleading and went to university on a cheer scholarship.

“That’s amazing,” Jude commented genuinely. “She graduated right?”

Naomi shook her head. “Not yet; she’s still got time. She’s a first-year, but she’s already planning her graduation trip. She wants to go to England.” His ears perked up and a sly smile crept on his lips. She rolled her eyes playfully but accepted his proposal to share places she should visit whenever her sister went to England.

“You know,” Jude spoke minutes later as he guided her out of the vehicle. She took his extended hand and thanked him, straightening her thigh-length skirt. “I don’t hear Spain as a place for solo travel often. What prompted that?”

Her response was delayed by her infatuation with the sights above her. They were outside of a museum. Not just any museum, but the National Archaeological Museum. She was inwardly awed. He took note of her love for history and art and took her to the museum. She could kiss him right then and there.

“Glad you took my advice and wore comfortable shoes.” They both glanced at her New Balance sneakers that complimented her neutral-toned outfit. She wore a gray cropped top, knee-length distressed shorts, and a white fitted cap to match. “We’ll be out for a while. I know a good lunch place not too far away if you want to go later.”

Naomi smiled. “Looking forward to it.”

-

“Oh, it’s so beautiful!’ Naomi refrained from touching the meticulously handcrafted bust in front of her. Her eyes gleamed with wonder and adoration. She adored museums. They were where art and history kissed and refused to gasp for air. There was nothing like it.

From behind her, Jude nodded slowly, not paying much attention to the busts, but rather her child-like excitement and sun-like glow. He could have cursed himself for doing all of this for a woman he’d met less than 36 hours before, but the feeling deep within him outweighed the logic his brain tried to present him with.

A pretty woman whom he just happened to speak to at dinner had agreed to let him take her around Madrid for vacation. Just as he did, she’d taken such a liking to him that she agreed to spend time with him until she left ten days later. He had ten days to be in her presence and he’d been damned if he let his mind ruin it.

“Yeah,” Jude spoke up after some time, his eyes following her. “Very beautiful.”

-

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naomisinclair such a beautiful city

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adyajalyn girl who took that picture and who’s arm is that

— naomisinclair 🌚

adyajalyn you go out of the country once and start befriending strangers like a dumbass

adyajalyn is he cute though?

— naomisinclair very

judeb pretty

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— naomisinclair judeb thank you boo

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-

“So, do you plan on returning to Madrid in the future?” Jude asked as they walked in a local park, hand in hand. Naomi tilted her head to the sky and swung their hands together. “Or was this a one-time trip?”

“I’ll be back. Especially if I have a reason to return.” She turned her head to meet his eyes, which were already awaiting hers. She saw something within them--excitement, interest, and desire. It made her stomach clench and her face grow warm. “So, hopefully, I will.”

The wheels began to turn in his mind. She’d be gone in ten days. He’d go on break in fourteen days. Would he be insane to try and get to know a woman who was nowhere near Madrid? Maybe. But, who doesn't like a little crazy?

After some time, Jude spoke up, “I’d like to think you will.”

Her eyes twinkled. She said nothing after that but the step she took closer to his body said more words than her mouth could and he accepted it gratefully.

-

“You can come in if you’d like,” Naomi said shyly as they stood outside the door of her hotel. Her fingers fondled her braids as she awaited his response.

Jude’s lips spread in a content smile as he nodded. “I appreciate that. Give me some time to shower and I’ll be back.”

Naomi grinned like a kid in the candy shop. They exchanged their goodbyes and she was left to freshen up and keep her mind occupied as she waited for his arrival.

Shortly after her shower, she got a phone call from Adya, whose face was filled with interest as she immediately asked, “Who is he?”

Naomi chuckled, “Well hello to you, too. And to answer your question, he’s a nice guy I befriended at dinner one day. Just showing me around the city. And before you call me a dumbass, yes I know it was dangerous.”

“As long as you know,” Adya shrugged. She then smiled softly. “Is he treating you nicely at least? Not a total creep?”

Naomi nodded. Jude was more than nice. He was incredibly kind and attentive. The thought of her leaving the following week drove her mad but she tried her best not to ponder on it too much. She’d enjoy the present moment.

“He’s a nice guy. Sucks that I’ll leave, but that’s why I’m just basking in the moment.”

Adya hummed. “If you’d like to make it work, it could be possible. Would take a lot of effort, but it could work if you both wanted it to. I think you might have to build a friendship first, though.” That drew a small laugh from Naomi who agreed wholeheartedly.

Just as she was peeped to respond, his name dropped down from a banner.

Jude

— Hey, pretty girl. I’m outside.

Adya, not blind to Naomi’s sudden grin, hollered and said, “Girl, go talk to that man and call me in the morning.”

“Bye Ady!”

Naomi tossed her phone on the bed and kept off the mattress. She patted her braids, soothed her sweatshirt, wriggled her manicured toes, and strode toward the door, opening it wide.

Jude stood on the other side, a smile on his face as he held up a dark bag. “I come bearing gifts.” Naomi moved out his way and allowed his entry. “This is a nice room.”

“Thank you. The booking company gave me hell so they upgraded me to a suite.” Naomi pointed to his bag and tilted her head to the side. “What do you have there?” She sat on the bed and he joined her.

“Heard through the grapevine you like popcorn, chocolate, and good movies.” Out of the bag came varieties of chocolate, a large bag of popcorn, and his laptop, fully equipped with any streaming service of her choice. “Figured we would watch one or two together.”

Naomi grinned like an idiot for the hundredth time that day. He was so considerate it almost hurt. Without much thought, she said, “I could kiss you right now.”

The way Jude’s eyes widened made her heart quicken but the feeling of his lips on hers shortly after caused it to nearly burst in her chest.

He was such a good kisser, she noted, appreciating how he took control yet was very gentle with her. His hands didn’t roam below her waist and he didn’t try to force his tongue down her throat. It was the perfect blend between respectful and polite and grown and sexy. Just as she liked it.

“I like you,” he whispered some time after they pulled away. Naomi’s eyes softened at his confession. She noted how he tried to catch his breath, how his cheeks were rosy from his body temperature rising, how his lips were slightly swollen and smeared with her lip gloss. He was so beautiful.

“Jude…”

He didn’t let her finish. “I like you and it’s crazy because it’s been less than 48 hours but Naomi, there’s just something about you.” Swoon. “You’ll go back home and I’ll be here, but I want to see what my life could look like with you in it. Give you a reason to come back.”

Naomi laughed lightly. Not because anything he said was funny, but because of the insanity of it all. She’d fallen head first for a man she’d known for two days and blushed at every word he said like his sentences were crafted by Shakespeare.

“I like you too,” she admitted. “And I feel crazy saying that because we’re strangers.”

Jude’s eyebrows raised as he nodded. That was the unfortunate fact, but, “We’ve got a few more days to become more than strangers.”

And that they did.

-

“Jude!” Naomi squealed as he tapped her shoulder, causing her to fall in the pool. She didn’t get the opportunity to wipe the water from her eyes before Jude jumped in beside her. She squealed loudly then giggled when he scooped her into his arms.

“That wasn’t nice,” she said, pouting playfully. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her manicured fingers combed through the thick curls on his head, an action that made his eyes flutter. “I’m gonna get you back.”

“Is that so?” he asked, fingers caressing her thighs that were locked around his waist. Naomi nodded, eyes dropping to his lips. “Gonna have to get me first.”

Naomi, as flirtatious as ever, only has to bat her eyelashes a few times and brush her lips against his for him to crumble immediately. The perfect way to get him distracted enough to wriggle herself from his grip and dunk his head into the water.

“Oof!”

Her laugh was loud and boisterous, but he enjoyed hearing it all the same. Jude wiped his eyes when he came up from the water and gave her a look. Naomi giggled as she tried to back away, but her movement was restricted by the water.

Once again, she was scooped into his arms. “You play dirty,” he said. “I like it.”

Naomi smiled. The feelings she felt with him were unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. Her face always hurt from smiling, she felt giddy whenever he arrived at her door or called her phone. How would she possibly be able to deal with the distance?

-

“I’ve got to go, Jude, or I’ll miss my flight,” Naomi whispered, tugging her hand out of his grasp gently. “I’ve got to go.”

The dreaded day had arrived. Naomi had to go back home and they’d be without each other (physically) until their schedules aligned again. It was something neither of them wanted to think of but like always, time brought reality back to them.

“I don’t want you to go,” the footballer admitted, swinging their hands back and forth. Naomi smiled sadly, using her free hand to caress his face.

“I don’t want to go either, but we’ll call, text, and FaceTime as much as we can, and we’ll figure it out. We can figure it out.”

Jude’s lips parted to respond but her flight being called over the speakers cut him off. He sighed heavily. Naomi bit her lip to pierce her quivering lips. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you,” Jude replied. He pressed a kiss against her lips.“Call me when you land, alright?” Naomi nodded and took her roller bag in her hand and began to walk toward her gate.

“Bye Jude.”

He waved sadly.“I’ll see you soon, Naomi.”

-

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naomisinclair until next time, madrid.

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— judebellingham in due time, love

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saturnville and so it begins!

-

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

The Rhythm of this Trembling Heart

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Commonwealth (No France)

Warnings: None

Summary: There isn’t anything Daryl wouldn’t do for you.

A/N: Happy (late) Halloween. Sorry it’s late. Regardless, the song attached is what I imagined toward the end. You’ll know it when you read it.

*gif is not mine

Halloween was in full swing! The community was alive with music and activities and best of all: costumes! Some were brought back from supply runs while others were handmade. Kids were out engaging in the age old tradition of trick-or-treat. It was surreal. 

It was just past dark, the activities for the younger ones winding down while celebrations for adults were just beginning. Several smaller parties were happening in individual residences but the masquerade ball— Ezekiel’s idea, of course— was where most were attending. 

But not Daryl. 

He was out making sure everything was safe while the adults of the community were otherwise occupied. There were guards on duty but he had special people here that he just couldn’t leave their safety to anyone other than himself. Jude and RJ were at their individual friends’ homes. Carol was at the ball. He didn’t know if you were going. While everyone else had been planning their attire, you had volunteered to help sew costumes for the kids. 

He had never been much for Halloween. No costumes or candy, just bruises and shouting matches. When he was older, it was pizza, beer, and maybe a movie. He could see the appeal if he really thought about it. One night to be anyone or anything else. He could definitely get behind that. 

“Yo, Dixon!”

He paused mid-step, hoping to god that the voice he’d heard was in his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Princess. She was a good person with a good heart. She was just… a lot. 

“I know you hear me, man!”

With a sigh, he finally stopped and turned, giving her a nod in greeting while she bounced up to him with her usual attempt at a hug, stopping with her hands up when he stepped back. 

“Still not a hugger. Respected.”  She was dressed in a black gown, frilly and lacy, but with her own Princess touch of pink rhinestones pressed into the waist and collar. Her hair was pinned up with a pink ribbon weaving throughout. “You’re not really dressed for the party. I mean, I guess you could wear that as long as you have a mask but it wouldn’t take much to guess who you are and that’s kinda the point of—”

Daryl raised his palms as well as his eyebrows, already exasperated. “Ain’t goin’ but hope ya have a good time.” With a squeeze to her shoulder and a curt nod, he turned to take his leave. 

“Y/N’s gonna be there.” 

He found himself stopping again, looking back over his shoulder. Princess was leaning out like she had expected his reaction, a huge grin on her pretty face. 

“So?” He tried to act like he didn’t care when he really wanted to know everything. Daryl cared deeply for you, having been close to you since the quarry. You had been the only person other than Carol to refuse letting him isolate himself, the only difference being Carol encouraged him to be a part of the group whereas you plopped yourself right down in his space and refused to leave. 

His feelings toward you had only intensified over the years. It used to make him uncomfortable because he didn’t understand it. He feared it. So, he had pushed you away, but you never strayed far. You had always been waiting for him with open arms, ready to forgive and forget. 

He was still scared, truth be told. It was the only reason he hadn’t had a very important conversation with you and asked you to be his. 

“So.” Princess mocked in a deep voice before laughing at herself and waving a dismissive hand. “I’m just playin’, man. Anyone with eyes can see you got it bad, dude!”

“I don’t got—”

“Don’t even try.” She shook her head with a little more enthusiasm than necessary. “Go change. Come to the party. She’ll appreciate the hell out of that.”

“Don’t do costumes. Even if I did, I ain’t got none.” He shrugged. Daryl and social events were not allies. He wouldn’t even know where to start for something like this. 

“Oh, I gotcha, man.” She held her Venetian stick mask up over her eyes with a daunting smile. “Just leave it all to me.”

How had he let Princess, of all people, talk him into this? 

She had all but dragged him back to her apartment, telling him to shower while she went through the rejected items she had picked for Mercer. He had never felt more uncomfortable in his entire life. 

Well, that is, until he was standing in front of the mirror while she adjusted the white mask, hiding the bands expertly within his hair, which she had combed and slicked back. 

“This is a masterpiece.” She was staring, wide-eyed and big-grinned, rubbing her hands together like she had just successfully animated Frankenstein’s monster. 

Daryl’s eyebrows shot up, though he could only see one. The mask covered the right side of his face. She had him in a white button-up and black slacks. The black boots were shiny and he hated that the black gloves actually covered his fingers. Almost everything was at least one size too big but manageable. Still, nothing made his lip curl more than the cape she had secured beneath the collar of the shirt. 

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere in this shit.”

“Oh, come on, man. It’s very Phantom of the Opera!” Princess beamed. 

Daryl scowled even harder. “I definitely ain’t goin’ nowhere in this shit.” 

“Dude, I’m telling you, she’s gonna swoon when she sees you. And you’ll match her!” She argued, absently plucking at the edge of the cape. 

“Ya seen her?” The archer met her eyes in the mirror. 

“Oh yeah. She looked—” Princess kissed her fingertips and thrust them outward in a chef’s kiss. 

Daryl’s eyes moved back to his own reflection and he sighed. He was about to make an absolute fool of himself, but at least he was doing it for you. 

He was on his third cigarette. Princess had wished him luck and already disappeared through the door to find Mercer, leaving Daryl alone with his thoughts and anxiety. What if you were there with someone? Princess didn’t seem to think so but the last thing he wanted to do was fuck up your evening. 

He tapped his gloved fingertips against the wall behind him, the other hand plucking the smoke from between his lips to flick it away. It was time to find his balls and go inside. If he didn’t, he looked like an idiot and he was a pussy. 

With a deep breath, he ascended the stairs to the door, nodding back at the guy who opened it for him. 

“Hey, Dixon. Have fun in there!”

“Fun. Right.” Daryl saved his confused expression for once the door had closed behind him. The guy had worked with him under Mercer. He couldn’t understand why there hadn’t been immediate laughter and punchlines at his expense. 

“Daryl?”

He raised his eyes to find Carol lowering her stick mask. She looked beautiful, her blue gown simple but elegant. Her hair had been styled delicately, the short curls even more defined than usual. 

“Uhh, yeah. S’me.” He scratched a nonexistent itch on the back of his neck. “Ya look pretty.”

“Thank you but let’s talk about you. Who did this cause I know it wasn’t you.”

The archer tried to wrinkle his nose in a sneer but it was difficult with the mask pressed to one side of his face. “Ya don’t think I could do this myself?” Carol put her hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow. “Was Princess.” He admitted rather quickly, his nerves wearing a hole through his chest. 

The silver haired woman gave him a gentle smile, reaching out to squeeze his bicep. “She did good.” Her name was called from somewhere in the crowd, her head turning so she could search. “Try to have some fun.” She took his hand and gave it a squeeze before heading into the main room where people were all standing around talking, aside from those dancing in the very middle. 

He watched as Carol made her way around the outside of the crowd, pausing to lean into a tight circle. He recognized Gabriel immediately. Even at a masquerade party, he wore that god awful hat. Daryl could barely see who Carol was speaking with, but she was leaned in close and, to his horror, was looking directly at him as she spoke. She winked and held her mask up, walking away just as you leaned out and locked gazes with him. The way your face lit up made his heart stutter and his stomach do cartwheels. 

You turned to apparently excuse yourself and then you were heading to him. Princess had been right. 

You were a fucking vision. 

Your dress was black, with a bouffant style skirt and corset top. The thin straps could be seen under lace that covered your arms and dipped into a v at your neck. Your hair was piled atop your head with elegant curls hanging down in places, accenting the black lace Venetian mask attached to your face with a ribbon that disappeared into your hair. 

“Daryl?” You beamed, your heels click-clacking on the shiny floor. “Daryl, you look amazing!” You laughed, the smile brighter than he’d ever seen it. The archer had utterly forgotten how to form words, completely lost in the ethereal beauty standing in front of him. You laughed again and touched his forearm. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah!” He answered suddenly before clearing his throat. “Yeah, m’good. You, uh—ya look—” He trailed off when suddenly words like ‘beautiful’ and ‘gorgeous’ didn’t seem good enough to describe you. “Wow.”

“Pfft.” You chuckled, closing in to give him a hug. “I can’t believe you came. This is the best Halloween ever!” Daryl didn’t waste any time returning the embrace. He could smell your shampoo and whatever product you had used to style your hair. Vanilla. “Come on, let’s go hang out with everyone! They’ve gotta see this!”

You took his hand in yours and pulled but he didn’t move. When you looked back, he was staring at the crowd behind you with a painful look of uncertainty. Your eyes softened, understanding that just standing where he was had to be ridiculously outside of his comfort zone. You weren’t sure why he had come but you were damn sure not going to let it be a bad experience for him. Biting your lip, you glanced at the door leading to the upper level. 

“Do you trust me?” You asked him, squeezing his hand. 

“More than anyone.” He replied quickly but quietly. 

“Good!” You pulled him toward the door and away from the crowd, leaning out to make sure the security guards weren’t watching. Finding them agonizing over what hors d’oeuvres they might want from the tray, you opened the door and ushered Daryl in first before following and quietly closing it. You couldn’t suppress your hushed giggles as the two of you ascended the stairs, even finding yourself shushing him when he hadn’t made a single sound. “How’s this? Better?”

The upper level balcony overlooked the ballroom below, the acoustics allowing the music to be heard clearly but not the chatter of the crowd. Daryl leaned over to look over the people below, but quickly stepped back so as not to be noticed. 

“Much better.”

“Good.” You said, plopping down on an expensive looking chaise sofa to remove your heels. “My feet are killing me.” When the archer simply nodded, you pursed your lips over a barely contained smile. “Come here.” You said, actually moving toward him before he could comply. “I know you are hating this thing, so since I took off my shoes…” you trailed off, pulling the string that secured the cape. It pooled on the ground behind his feet. 

“Feel at least like I may deserve my balls back now.” He gave you a small half smile when you laughed and smacked his chest. When silence fell again, you found yourself just watching him and him, you. 

“Dance with me?”

His eyes widened, the side of his face that you could see turning a pale pink. “I don’t dance.”

“Can’t?”

“Don’t.”

“You do now.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him a little closer to the middle of the balcony, encircling your arms around his neck. He gave you a look that lasted only a moment before his hands landed on your waist. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just a simple slow rocking like you see teenagers do at prom. Still, it had your heart fluttering. “I’m glad you came.” 

“Me too.”

“What made you decide to, anyway?” You tilted your head, looking up at him while your fingers toyed with his hair. He didn’t answer. He just stared at you. 

Oh. 

“You did all this for me?” 

He didn’t trust his voice so he simply nodded. 

“Daryl?”

“Yeah?”

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Your eyes flitted down to his lips and back up to his eyes. He didn’t give you the chance. He closed the distance between you and pressed his mouth to yours. It was gentle, almost seeming shy, but it was perfect. All too soon, you separated, your wet eyes sparkling as you watched him for any signs of regret. 

You found none. 

Throughout, you had never stopped dancing. It was maybe the most perfect first kiss you could have ever imagined.

“I lied. Now, it’s the best Halloween ever.” You sniffled with a smile, laying your head against his shoulder. 

“Yeah. It sure is.” He agreed. You felt his cheek rest on the top of your head. “Tell anyone an’ I’ll still hafta kill ya.”

“What? That you kissed me?”

“Nah, that I was dancin’.”

You laughed and kissed him again. 

[stemmmm]

Close to a year and four rewrites later, I present to you...

Stem's Thoughts on the Game Design of Harvest Moon on SNES

I’m not going to lie, if you don’t like farming sims, you won’t like this one. At their core, every farming sim (at least in the rpg genre) is nearly identical, and that’s because of this game. In a way, I might dare to say that Harvest Moon for the SNES is the perfect farming sim because it has every one of the usual elements in their most simplified form and it just works straight from the get-go. It works so well in fact, that after this game came out in 1996, four more entries to the series were released before the year 2000.

If you are someone who does like farming sims, I can’t recommend this game enough. It’s simple and to the point, with a fast pace and enough random events and points of intrigue that the game kept me relatively engaged for my whole playthrough.

Also, by nature of this being the first game and therefore hard to cover concisely and by nature of taking so long to write this... it's long as hell! Enjoy! :) <3

I can’t say my appreciation of this game doesn’t come with a few caveats. I’ve intermittently played HM games all my life, starting with the GameBoy port (GB1) all the way to Pioneers of Olive Town, so while I don’t know exactly how the series has evolved, I’ve seen it at some of its earliest and at its latest. My vague childhood memories of GB1 (a game I didn’t own and didn’t play much of) were that it was pretty sparse and bland, so knowing that this original game was allegedly the same thing but with a little more content, I was expecting the bare minimum. I was prepared to never even be able to leave my farm, but the first thing the game did was shuttle me off to the nearby town and blocked the exit until I talked to everyone there. 

(Maps of the town, mountain, and farm via The Spriters Resource)

You learn everything you need to know about the game right here at the beginning; Firstly, that this town is small as all hell and has hardly anyone in it aside from the five girls you can marry and their immediate family members. The next thing you’ll learn is that there’s a fence on your farm, and you need to be taking care of that. Of the few repetitive lines of dialogue any given person in town has to share with you on any given day, a fair amount are devoted to reminding you to fix your fence, to make sure it’s in good repair. There was just a big storm so watch out! Remember to check it every day! Are you chopping enough wood? Because you’ll need it for that fence!

I’m being dramatic of course, you aren’t reminded about it that much, though the thin variation of dialogue means it comes up a lot. The emphasis on your fence does exist, and it isn’t for nothing: while it doesn’t matter as much if all you do is grow crops– if you keep animals, the game tells you that the ideal thing to do for yours and the animal’s happiness is to put the animals outside to graze. Animal feed bought from the livestock shop will keep them fed, but it's nothing compared to fresh grass grown on your farm. You can’t even buy animals without a certain amount of grass planted! And sure, you can cut the grass to store for later, but it’s at its best straight out of the ground. However, the way the game is programmed, the animals only eat when the day rolls over, so putting animals outside for the day and taking them in at night isn’t an option, and on top of that, there’s things that come out at night that can hurt your animals. This is where your fence comes in.

The Utility of Fences

At the entrance to your farm is a cluster of buildings: your house, a small lumber shed, a barn, coop, and silo, a tool shed, and an old, dried up well. Just barely surrounding all of these is a little wooden fence that looks more like a row of upright logs than anything else. Despite this farm having presumably been abandoned, the fence is in perfect repair. You’ll quickly discover that the fence as it is won’t work out; there’s hardly space to plant anything within it, and with the well dried up, you’re forced to hop it to get to a water source to fill up your watering can. It’s pretty clear that you’ll need to expand your fence, and it’s easy to do with all of the tree stumps littering the massive field that it’s blocking off. 

On top of needing to expand the range of your fence, the individual planks eventually will rot away and leave useless stumps. They show up more frequently after rain or a large storm. The posts don’t rot away completely so they have to be manually removed, but replacing them is as simple as smashing the old post with a hammer or ax and popping a new post in its place. It becomes a very natural part of your daily routine to run a lap around the farm’s perimeter before you go to bed to make sure everything looks safe and secure. It’s a good way to ensure your animals are put away and debris is cleared out, too! It slotted very nicely into my daily schedule until a certain point.

With how much time you have to spend hopping over the logs to get to the rest of the area too large to fence in, you might be tempted to leave one out of place for easier traversal. When night comes, it’s clear why that would be a mistake. Sometimes when you go to bed, you’ll hear your dog barking. It’s a small detail, one that took me a long time to notice because I didn’t always play with the sound on. There are wild dogs that prowl around the wilderness surrounding your farm, and only at night do they dare to come close. Your dog, if left outside, isn't able to do anything other than warn you of their presence if they show up. There’s nothing to notice during the daytime if it happens, unless you happened to leave one of your animals outside. There was one night that I left my chickens outside, having thought my fence was in perfect order and repair. I went to bed and heard the dog barking, followed by a horrible crunch. When I went out in the morning, I saw where my chicken had been before, it had been replaced by a pile of feathers. On the north side of my farm was a rotted fence post I’d failed to fix. 

The Reality of Fences

After losing my chicken, a cluster of pixels on my screen it may have been, I didn’t feel comfortable leaving my animals outside. I didn’t want to take a risk again, the sound and sight of feathers was upsetting enough. On a more logical note, the chickens didn’t even lay eggs if left outside so there was no value in it. Cows were a pain to put back inside the barn too, because of some silliness with the game’s collision. As much of a disappointment as it was to not have my animals roam around, it was just easier. At the time, I was focusing on upgrading my house anyways, so I didn’t have time to take care of my animals outside where time would pass when I could use that time gathering wood, and everything I had was being saved up for the house so I didn’t have any extra materials to repair my fence with. My fence was all rotting away. Because it was inconvenient for getting to my crops, I started smashing all the old posts as they went, too. That’s when I noticed something: the wild dog wasn’t coming anymore.

I didn’t pay much attention to it until I was looking up a completely different mechanic and discovered a forum explaining how the fences were broken. Rotted posts attracted the wild dog, they said. It didn’t matter if you had gaps in your fence, or even a fence at all–in fact no fence was the best kind to have because the mere existence of posts that could rot was a liability. 

I was hesitant at first to test this concept, after all there wasn’t much I could gain from it. My chickens wouldn’t lay outside, and my cows would be too challenging to get back in if the forecast called for rain. The thing that got me to finally try it was when I was trying to hatch more chickens. My coop felt like a nightmare to navigate due to its current population. I wanted less animals inside that I had to feed, so I threw a couple chicks outside–they weren’t laying yet anyways. Lo and behold, the dog didn’t come. More days passed and more animals were left outside, and it never came. My fence had rotted until there was nothing left at all. No dogs could ever come to my farm again. And I realized that the game’s own insistence on its mechanics was all a lie.

How You’re Told To Play - How The Game Lies

Of course, my animals didn’t stay outside. For a minute it was fun having a crowd of cows milling about while I tended to my crops, but letting them wander free and uninhibited made it impossible to find and milk all of them without any trouble, and there were the rainy days to watch out for. After the novelty wore off, they went back inside and stayed there. The thing is, that didn’t make a single bit of difference in how much they liked me compared to how they were living in the barn. On top of that, they didn’t seem to care whether I was feeding them grass or store-bought food either, though I mostly stuck to the grasses since they were cheaper and easier to get. Nothing about how I was told to care for animals really mattered past feeding them every day, petting it and maybe brushing it, if it was a cow.

It gets worse. The most basic aspect of the game is the fact that time passes. The story takes place over 2 and a half years, running through each day until the end, and these days last from 6AM to 6PM according to the game’s own internal time setting. After 6PM, all of the shops aside from the bar will close and you lose the ability to sell anything as you’re told it would rot in the shipping bin overnight, so there’s nothing to do but sleep until the next day. Issue with this is that when the days stop at 6PM… they just stop. Time doesn’t flow anymore. The game doesn’t give you any kind of clock to know the exact time it is until after you’ve upgraded your house, so all you have to go by before that is the color of the environment and whether or not your character has played an animation to eat something (you’re automatically fed when you wake up, at noon, and at night). I discovered this because I was curious if I could actually see the wild dog by staying out, and left the game running for probably 20 minutes in real life only for nothing to happen. Because of the time freeze, the time after 6PM actually becomes really valuable for farm logistics. You can’t sell anything, no, but you can pull up all the weeds on the farm, water your crops, fix your fences, feed and care for animals if you hadn’t already, and harvest wood for fences and house upgrades which would have taken a lot of valuable time to get during shipping-hours. The only thing that gets in the way of doing all that is you running out of energy.

Your energy is what allows you to use your farming equipment like your ax or watering can. Running out of it doesn’t mean you fall unconscious or anything, but your character will play an animation of them stumbling over and will fail to use any tools. The most obvious fix to this is to simply go to bed, as sleeping gives you a full recharge. You can also, however, recharge it by going to the hot spring on the mountain, or by eating food bought at the restaurant in town or foraged for in the forest. You can’t tell easily how much is refilled, as there’s no visual indicator like a health bar, but you’re able to eat more than once, and jumping into the hot spring seems to count whether you did it or not more than how much time you spend in there, so you can hop in and out a couple of times and call it good. 

Individually, time freezing at 6PM and energy being endlessly replenishable aren’t bad things. Even together, they’re not the worst. Having free time to focus on profitless chores is nice, and I think it’s important to be able to replenish your energy in case you have a limited amount of time to do things like for example, cut all of your grass before winter kills it. What makes an exploit out of these is the fact that the resources in the forest will never run out. Every time you re-enter the forest, all forage items and tree stumps are respawned. The infinite amount of forage makes for infinite energy refills, and could also make for an incredible money exploit if you didn’t have a very limited amount of time to ship things. You don’t have a limited amount of time to cut up tree stumps though. If you wanted to, you could run up to the forest after 6PM, chop every stump, then simply reload the area, and everything’s back. You can get all of the wood you would ever need to fully upgrade your house in one night. It’s a bit of a grind to do all at once, but it’s a grind you’d be doing over time anyways. It’s not the worst exploit in the world, since you still need money to pay for the house upgrade, but arguably because of how you have to focus your energy elsewhere for most of the game, the wood is the harder thing to get. Additionally, when the game has very little to do in both fall and winter due to the lack of crops, this exploit takes away just about any reason to play those two seasons other than to take care of animals. It’s an optional exploit of course–as all exploits are–but once you learn about it, it’s hard to resist the desire to get the grind out of the way all at once and mess up the pacing of the game.

The Charm of the Game

Learning that the fences were completely broken as a mechanic was a huge disappointment for me. From the moment I got a grasp on how the game was supposed to work, I wanted to eventually surround my whole field with fencing and keep my animals outside so I would have some life on my farm while I worked. I didn’t just want this, I was excited for it! This was something I’d never done in a farming sim that didn’t already manage putting animals in and out for you like Stardew Valley or newer Story of Seasons games do. My routine is always the same: I go into the barn and coop to tend to each of my animals, I take care of my crops outside, then run straight to town to talk to everyone, and go to bed. The change in routine that would come from taking care of the animals outside and patrolling the fence every night felt fresh to me. It made me feel that even though this was the first game of its kind, it was different and required new things of me. But in the end, I played it exactly the same.

Harvest Moon is still very different from all of the games that followed it, though. In many ways, it’s because it has less “stuff” in it– both in terms of items and things you have to do. But I wouldn’t say that it feels incomplete. Harvest Moon runs over the course of 2 and a half years before your work is evaluated. Until that happens, you have the ability to farm four different crops, you can raise both cows and chickens, you can upgrade your house to have more features, upgrade your working tools, build relationships with the townspeople to a small extent, go to town festivals that happen each year, and you can get married to one of the five girls living in town with whom you can have up to two children. Everything that you would come to expect as a fan of games like this is already here from the very first iteration. The most notable lack this game has, and one that seems to be completely unique to this game, is that there aren’t any crops in the fall or winter, which means that unless you have animals, there’s a whole half of the year that you don’t have anything to do. The game is clearly aware of this though, because in an average playthrough, this is where you’ll start to run into the story events.

There isn’t much of an overarching story in the game, past the general concept that you’ve run away from home to work on an abandoned farm. The conclusion rests on how good of a job you actually do. In between those two points are smaller events, usually tied to when you get tool upgrades or special ones for each of the romantic interests. The first event you’re likely to run into happens on the very last day of summer, where one of the woodsmen comes to your house in the morning to ask if you’re okay because he heard a huge crash at night and you should check your farm. What I found was that a tree in my field had fallen over, and its remaining stump had a big empty hole in it. When I inspected the stump, I was suddenly underground in a cave filled with loud and industrious music, and I was faced with two, little green people–Harvest Sprites, though I don’t know if they’re called that yet here. One asked me if my scythe worked well, and when I said yes, told me that they had made it and that I should check my shed tomorrow for a better one. Other tool upgrades are obtained in similar fashion; one comes from feeding a starving sprite a mushroom and another comes from another hole in the farm opening up to reveal another part of the cave system that has a couple of hints on how to unlock other things. 

The events for romantic interests happen at less scripted times, as they’re tied to how strong your relationship is with each girl. Each girl only has one event, and it only triggers when your relationship is high enough that you would ask her to marry you. The events usually take up a whole day, and don’t necessarily add much to each character. Ellen’s revolves around how she’s no good at keeping pets– something established on your second day at the farm when you get your dog from her, Eve’s hammers in her fraught relationship with her grandpa, and Ann’s is about losing the chicken weathervane, or “weathercock” which sits on the roof of her workshop and goes missing every time there’s a storm. Conversely, Nina and Maria’s scenes bring up entirely new events that bring up a number of questions while providing no answers. Nina disappears while looking for a medicinal plant because her mother is apparently sick, and Maria vanishes for days until you find her hiding away with the woodsmen for some reason. All of these events, whether they share new information or not, manage to add some greatly appreciated depth to each character by giving them more room to speak and be sincere than their short and repetitive day-to-day dialogues do.

The dialogue in this game is simple, to the point, and sparse– probably because there was only so much memory that could be reserved for approximately 15 people who all have multiple lines of dialogue, and only so much money to pay someone to write more. There is simple dialogue that doesn’t tell you much more than “hello, how are you” would, more dialogue that I’d label as tutorial text, and a few lines that I truthfully couldn’t understand well because of the sub-par translation this game received for english. The dialogue that exists to inform the world really manages to create a unique vibe though. Nina’s dialogue, almost always about plants, goes into forays about how they’re creatures with wills to live, too. Ellen’s uncle who runs the ranch shop tells you that it’s much better to feed your animals fresh grass if you try to buy any from his store, and if you decline to purchase he laughs as if he’s won something. There’s even dialogue referencing the silent player! Multiple lines exist to comment on him not paying attention, and inspection prompts have people telling you not to touch something rather than being an item description. It was the last thing I expected, to get the same level of personality out of the main character as I did from each of the girls, albeit very subtly. He went from a kind of nothing, self-insert into being what I perceive to be a hyperactive boy, akin to a border collie who was let out into a field of sheep for the first time–the exact kind of person crazy enough to take on an abandoned farm and succeed.

It’s these short little character details that bring life into the game. Each day, you’ll really only see one line of dialogue from each character, be it new or old, with that dialogue usually only changing if there’s a change in season or festival coming up. The repetitive, pretty mindless routine of the game can turn into a sort of meditation if you let it, where you spend your time working thinking about the folks in town and what they had to say to you the previous day. The developers took this concept in stride and gave the side characters loads of dialogue about life, about God and religion, and about… very basic morals, but morals nonetheless. It’s a children’s game after all. When you take the thoughts, questions and prompts the characters give you back to the farm to do your long and tedious routine, you have to ask yourself– what are you working so hard for? For the feeling of accomplishment? Recognition from your peers? For the sake of some higher power, if you worship one? For me personally, it was to write this essay, but it was also for a good grade on the high score screen at the end, so to be honest a lot of this stuff was lost on me until just now when I was reviewing the game to get screenshots.

Setting The Standard - Why You Should Play HM SNES

You may read all of this and still think, well, it doesn’t sound like the game has much in it. And you would be right, it’s a very small game, but it’s also extremely quick. On average, my days only lasted about three minutes of real life time. Everything flew by, and I think I finished the game in 20 hours or less. I barely got a chance to notice that there wasn’t much going on because every second of my day was spent busy doing something, and when I wasn’t busy, the break was appreciated. I didn’t start to run out of things to do until I was finished with the second year, and when I looked up what I needed to do to get a decent ending, I was already most of the way there. It was easy to push through those last two seasons to get to the end, and it was so, so worth it. 

As I mentioned earlier, the game ends with a high score screen, meaning it has to track all of your accomplishments. These include, but are not limited to: the number of things you ship, number of each crop you grow, number of animals you have and how much they like you, how upgraded your house is, who you married, how much all of the girls in town like you if you didn't get married, how many kids you have (which basically equates to how long you were married), your happiness score (increased by going to festivals and decreased by having animals die), and how many times you’ve pet your dog. In addition to these being tallied up and presented to you, you get special cutscenes not just for each one of these accomplishments, but additional ones for if you managed to do even better! I got a cutscene for having a cow, followed by one for having lots of cows, followed by yet another for having cows that loved me! Watching them play one after the other felt like taking a victory lap even without getting the best possible result. Seeing all of my numbers come up at the end made me want to try again to actually get those other cutscenes, not to get to see them, they’re so easy to find on Youtube, but because the game made it feel like an accomplishment! If I weren’t following this game up by immediately playing its GameBoy port, I absolutely would have started a new file right away. I’ve been playing the Harvest Moon series since I was a little kid and this was the first time I’d actually managed to beat one of these games. I struggle to think the finale of any game following this will feel as good as this one did.

I started writing this whole thing about the fences because it was an easy and silly entry point to get into my core issue with the game, and so I could have an opportunity to dig into game mechanics and the way the knowledge you have of them will completely alter your playstyle, because that’s all fun and interesting for me to talk about. Another reason why I focused on that was because it was near impossible for me to pick any kind of focus point when talking about this game. After all, I’m trying to study a whole series of games that spans multiple decades, and this is not only the first game in that series, but a game that created the whole genre of farming sims and defined that genre so thoroughly that you can see its DNA in every single game that followed.

 I didn’t expect much to come out of my experience with this game. My expectations for it before I even picked it up were that it was going to be basically featureless, as informed by my experience with one of the first games I ever played as a child, Harvest Moon GB, which I will get into next. This game was not that at all. I think that everything it did manage to get working right came together just about perfectly. Harvest Moon is exactly what it wanted to be, and where it wasn’t, it lied about how it worked to try and make you play the correct way anyways. When I believed that lie, my time playing was even more enjoyable. Maybe if farming worked just a little bit more like how you’re told it’s supposed to, and if there was just a little bit more story, those would cover the things I felt wanting for the most. But maybe a little flexibility and ambiguity is a good thing. Maybe actually maintaining a fence is just too hard, and maybe if the girls were more fleshed out, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy filling in their gaps in my head.

There are many more things I could say and wanted to say about this game, but this has grown far too long already so I'm cutting myself off here. I'm sure my later entries aren't going to get near this length. If you managed to get to this point, thank you so much for reading!

[holybasementdweller]

wanted to add my two cents because shipping discourse is just all over recently. Forgive me rambling a bit here. I have a lot of thoughts on this topic and would like to get them out there in some form.

Stop harassing CC's about their boundaries.

Would you go up to a random person whom you've never met before in your life, who has never met you either, and likely has no idea who you are, purely to ask them if you can draw/write/ship them with one of their co-workers?

No! It's a wildly uncomfortable question to a lot of people, it puts them on the spot, and some CC's may not care as long as they never see it. Now that the concept has been shoved in their face, they're forced to view the idea.

I feel like a large part of the issue is the divide between younger, newer fandom members and older, traditional ones. Primarily the concept that fan content is not intended for CCs, but for fans specifically. Most 'traditional' and older fandom participants follow this view because that's what fandom is. You get to make cool things, and ramble about different head cannons and ideas with your friends and maybe find other fans who become your friends along the way. Maybe you want to throw these characters you really like into this elaborate superhero AU, or draw them in costume, or explore relationship dynamics because it's fun and you get to ramble with fellow fans. It's called a fandom for a reason!

I'd like to clarify here that this post is not meant to target anyone in particular; it's going off a general trend I've noticed.

There's been an influx of people who create fan works or fanart that seems to be aimed more to gain clout or to be noticed by CCs. It's something they wanted to make, but is leaving the realm of "by fans, for fans," in a sense that it seems to have lost more of that "for fans." The work is then shoved at the CC more aggressively than if it was just for friends.

There's a reason that spaces like AO3 and Tumblr exist with such large fan communities- because the communities are meant for fans. It's all well and good when CC's decide to take a peek or participate in said fan spaces of their own volition. They're the ones making the choice to engage. It's NOT all well and good when someone, as a fan, is trying to make that choice FOR them by shoving fanworks at the CC begging for clarification on what is okay with them. You're not going to help anyone in that way. Fan spaces exist separately from the CC spaces for a reason. The CC is a person behind the screen who you don't know. The character or role they play in the series you watch? You might know just about everything there is to know about them!

If a CC has laid out a boundary that they aren't comfortable with X Y Z, then there's a really, really simple solution here. Don't show it to them.

Don't put it in main tags, don't tag them in the post, hell, block the CC so you know they won't be able to view something that makes them uncomfortable.

There's a lot of what comes across as almost puritanical virtue signaling I've seen lately, where people are talking about CC boundaries everywhere and trying to police fanwork. I will again refer you to the point above. The fanwork is not made for the CC. It is made for fans, and if it is something the CC isn't comfortable with, then don't go posting it where they might regularly look at things (such as main fanart/fanwork tags.)

Yes, there are CCs who are over here. Yes, they look through fan works. This app is primarily a fan-oriented space and it has tags that CC's (or anyone else!!) can block to avoid things they are uncomfortable with. Though at this point the few that are over here either were already gay dot com natives or have basically become one.

I may have gone a bit off my original topic but TL;DR:

KEEP FAN WORKS TO FAN SPACES, AND STOP HARASSING THE CC'S PLEASE. LET THEM EXIST IN PEACE.

[possiblylando]

Chainsaw Man 165 'Early' Analysis

Media is what I would call the main theme of part 2. To be more specific Part 2 is about how people engage with media. Especially in these last few chapters and arcs as a whole, the throughline is clear. Nobody cares.

Corpses are just rotting in the street they've been there for at least a few hours and a week+ at most. Nobody except Denji seems to care about the present everyone is exclusively concerned with the next big event. It's a critique of how the modern internet tends to interact with media. If something exciting isn't happening then it might as well not exist. People only start to acknowledge something when there's some crazy moment or event to bring up. It's the 24 hour new cycle. There's very little lingering.

The panels like these stuck out to me because of how personal and slow they feel. Like actually taking time to stop and acknowledge the moment. Denji being the voice of reason in this chapter- and part 2 as a whole (while in human form) shows a lot of how he's grown and how his past still effects him. Denji isn't normal. He's seen hell (figuratively and literally) so he understands whats going on. He may not be able to put it into words but he understands the problem in what's happening on an emotional level. Everyone in Chainsaw Man has lost something. But Denji has experienced it all. He started in the gutter, started climbing out, got what he wanted, then got kicked right back down. Everyone else had something to begin with and then lost it. They're all at their lowest currently. Denji has been lower than all of them still.

Alot of this chapter is also about Denji as a character. Not him as a person but a character in a piece of fiction. Asa and Katana verbally dragging him between extremes they think he should be. Never once in the chapter does anyone stop and ask Denji what he thinks or wants. Even if they mean well they don't even consider Denji as a person. Just as a thing to push in a direction to make him do what they want. It's been apart of this entire part. Yoshida trying to stop him from becoming chainsaw man, public safety dissecting him, asa trying to make him normal, yoru trying to kill him, katana man trying to get him laid. None of them actually care about Denji's thoughts. Some of them act like they do and I'm sure some of them have good intentions. But that doesn't change their actions. It all just reeks of

The worst part is that Asa has good intentions. But she isn't thinking of Denji. She's thinking of herself. Everything Asa is trying to get for Denji is actually something she's been trying to get for herself.

She may be talking to Denji; but the fact she looks away, its like shes just talking to herself.

[gomzdrawfr]

want to join the fandom cause it seems fun seeing fanarts and you and others interacting but I don't know how...and with the whole ai thing im scared...

my advice: just do it

really! sometimes all you really need is a leap of faith, and that was exactly how I dropped into the cod fandom. When I joined the ghoap discord server I talked to one of the artist I really like and respected from my lurking time (hi @bressynonym) aaaand the rest is history

I didnt know how to draw properly, nor digitally, all I did was scribbling on OneNote (yeah!) and rambled about cod characters, it is daunting and it is scary to interact but after a while? you may just be able to find someone to brainrot together with

start small, like commenting, reblogging, talking, chatting- doesn't have to be towards artist/writers, it could be the art/fic enjoyers!

you need to put yourself out there if you want something

as to if you want to start in the fandom as a creator, here's some more tips (which are all based on my experience, I am no pro at doing this, hell Im still learning myself, and I am by no means speaking these on behalf on others!)

establish a goal: what are you making? fandom based? original creations?

as with starting new, everything may take a while for stuff to happen, you'll feel like you're speaking to the void at times (esp with original arts, but do know that your stuff do get perceive by others as time goes, I would advise to draw fandom stuff as a beginning to get that boost going if you want! or else it's going to be quite hard to get things rolling)

imo this is hardest part of any new creator, you'll have to bear with it and try not to give up (but I understand how incredibly demotivating it could get, there were times when I stopped posting about Raven entirely, but eventually I post it anyway cuz surely someone out there will like them, it just takes a lot of patiences and perseverance)

btw, engagement can also vary from time to time, you may be booming for a bit, then suddenly you dont, it is a cycle that will bound to happen

take rest regularly, and I mean a break from social media because numbers, discourse and everything can get to you, very quickly (I cannot emphasise this enough)

the numbers are not worth it over your mental health (comes with practice to really solidify this thought)

study the algorithm (pain): see what other creators are doing to get where they are, what tags are they using in their post? what features/niche do people like?(this is, if you really want to grab some form of engagement, bcuz reminder in the end you are creating art for yourself first!)

example: I think posts would get more reach if you tag it with the ship name first, followed by the characters' name (doesn't work all the time tho)

that's the thing about algorithm, it is ever-changing, and you'll have to learn to adapt with it when it does!

expanding on that, studying algorithm could be about ships (for example, ghostsoap is most popular in the fandom), or really good rendered art/flashed out fic that leaves your jaw on the floor, or ships that gets lesser attention in general which puts you, who make content about them, easier to be brought into the light (like Faralex)

bUT, it can also be personality!

(again, not saying this is meant for everyone and strictly from my own experience + what I observe) for me, I made up the lack of my art by establishing a personality: a wild panda who yaps about price and their oc and also kinda everywhere in the place (just like this post LOL), OR you're the person who named themselves after Soap's ash particle number OR you're the one who likes bottom Ghost- literally anything goes, you want to make an impression in different ways, some more funny/goofier than others but it works (be mindful and stay respectful tho, dont wanna be the asshole in the fandom now do ya?)

efforts ≠ engagement (not all the time, but most time) and this is a fact. Sometimes, you can't expect a piece you did for 10+ hours to get thousands views and likes, especially in a fandom space. You need to understand algorithm is that wonky. (very disheartening, but again, you make the art for you and the few others who genuinely likes them, and those people can go a long way) be mentally prepared for such events, and try not to beat yourself up too much for it

ultimately tho, do it, do it scared but do it anyways and again, draw the things that bring you joy, I hope these could be helpful in some ways!

[yun-jin-noona]

When you wake up next to him (in the middle of the night)

.

It wasn't invited in, you promise.

But...it wasn't necessarily shooed away either.

Mark was a dick, he knew it, you knew it, everyone outside the relationship also knew it. He wasn't like that from the start, he was a nice man- romantic gestures and dates were aplenty, and he never asked for more than he gave.

Then he pulled a ring out.

It was a complete 180 after the engagement, it was like he was someone different- someone far, far worse.

Now it's happened again. But this time it's...strange.

Mark seems to have forgotten a whole lot. About you, about him, about us. He always denied it when his abuse was brought up, but now its like...he genuinely can't remember?

Not to mention his speech is so...weird, now. Stunted, as if he somehow had a stroke that nobody knew about.

But the change is fine, he doesn't hurt you anymore- doesn't hurl insults for the smallest things, doesn't stop you from going out, he's even letting you make new friends! Well, letting is a strong word, he actually isn't stopping you at all.

But today, he just seemed...off. He was twitchy, but also lethargic. His posture was worse and he seemed not to talk so much.

You thought he was just having an off day, but then you heard something outside- it sounded like an animal, crying out.

You're not sure why you felt compelled to investigate, maybe to save the creature if you could?

The sight that was presented was...not anything you'd imagined, not in your wildest dreams.

The raccoon was dead, yes. But hunched over it was...Oh my god, is that Mark?

But he's different, his body is contorted, it looks broken, and- oh hell, did tentacles just come out of his goddamn back?

He, it- whatever the fuck, turns to you as you begin to dry heave, its a miracle nothing came up, really.

"Sorry...sorry...you weren't.. supposed to...see...this." He says. Its not Marks voice anymore, but it also...sort of is?

You don't know what's going on, but when he begins to rise and step closer to you, everything goes black.

You wake up the next morning, still cuddled close to what has to be Mark, there's no way he's anything else. It's not as if there's actually something out there that snatches people's bodies and pretends to be them and-

"Good morning sleepyhead~"

Speak of the devil.

"How'd you sleep? I think you had a nightmare last night, do you want to talk about it, love?"

Bullshit. No way that was a dream. Your throat still hurts from trying to evacuate yoru stomach contents.

"I...I can't quite remember, sorry."

He frowns- more like pouts, comically, and kisses the top of your head, patting your side gently where his arm curls around you.

"C'mon, at least let me make you breakfast, I went to the butchers on the way home yesterday- what do you say to some sausage?"

"I think I'll pass, my stomach doesn't feel quite right- I'll just have some toast."

He looks genuinely concerned. "Oh? Do you want me to go pick up some medicine?"

"No- I'm sure it's nothing, just feel uneasy is all."

Mark pets your head with his other hand. "My poor sweetheart, take it easy then today, alright? If you need anything, call me, work isn't as important as you."

He seems genuine. He seems to care. You almost think he loves you again.

"Alright, thank you."

You swear you can hear a cracking as he gets up out of bed- it's probably just his spine, right?

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - The Best of 2023

We made it to the end of the year!! I read…a lot. A lot. According to my records, I read: 

1300 fic 

15million words 

98% of that was SteveTony and narrowing that down to my favorite 10 was…a mission. Here you go--And I’d LOVE to hear what your favorite reads of the year was. 

~

Trust Fall by Sineala

Tony needs someone who cares about him, bandages, a jacket, ibuprofen, dinner, a lasting romantic relationship, a nice time in bed, and assistance committing federal crimes. He gets them. In that order.

Gather Ye Rosebuds by lazywriter7

It isn’t like that, for many people. For them, love is the point: the axis around which everything else revolves, the destination at the end of a long, tumultuous journey. Realisation, confession, resolution. Happy ending. That’s how it goes. And love was a point in Tony Stark’s journey, except it came towards the beginning, rather than the end. The issue, instead of the solution.

He hasn’t been alone on the trip, of course. Steve’s been there: sometimes three steps behind, sometimes waiting up ahead by the turn of the road. They’ve sprinted and stumbled, sometimes stood still and refused to move on ahead, sometimes thought of turning away altogether.

Steve and Tony’s story began after they fell in love, and this is about how they fell in everything else.

a rose by any other name by meidui

“Just Steve,” he says quickly, softly, and his voice is music to Tony’s ears. “Please call me Steve.”

Tony can’t help but stare as it occurs to him that he should have prepared a proper greeting. What on earth is someone so young and pretty doing in an engagement like this?

-

There are a lot of things about Steve that make this arrangement easier than Tony thought it would be, but then there are a lot of things about him that complicate it, too.

Second Chance Lives by raeldaza 

Tony's gonna die of palladium poisoning anyway, why not join a pointless expedition to recover Captain America’s body? And after, well, why not dedicate his last few months to making sure an American hero settles into his new life? What else is he going to do, get drunk at parties?

My Known Unknown by shetlandowl

That True Lies AU nobody asked for, set in a world where Stane Inc is the world's foremost weapons manufacturer, and Tony's employer.

I could lie tangent to your curves by RurouniHime

Steve is bodyguard to a prominent young socialite with too much genius on his hands... and who has taken an unfortunate shine to him.

Not a Breakup by Annie D (scaramouche)

Tony knew it was a bad idea to start sleeping with Steve. It could mess up team dynamics, make things even more awkward between them in the future, or just plain get in the way of their trying to save the world. Tony foresaw all of the above but not the advent of feelings, and at the most inopportune moment.

now I worship a celestial sun by haemodye

The thing that gets Tony the most is how long it takes him to notice.

Not Steve, or even the other Avengers, but Tony himself. It takes Tony almost two whole weeks to figure out that he’s unable to disobey a direct order from Steve, which just- what the hell is that? What happened to the days when he flew off the handle, unable to play well with others, a notorious wild card?

“God, don’t tell me I’m getting old and predictable,” he says, rubbing a hand over his forehead. And then, “Fuck.”

A mostly-comedic farce involving: 1 obedience spell, 2 pining Avengers, 1 long-suffering Sorcerer Supreme, and 1 single, extravagant Saint Patrick's Day float.

Can't Write One Song (That's Not About You) by FestiveFerret 

Ten years ago, Tony fell in love with his roommate: funny, handsome, kind, smart Steve Rogers, who also happened to be the lead singer and guitarist of a band, The Howlies.

Then The Howlies made it big, Steve moved away, and Tony vowed to avoid any mention of the band, their songs, and the man he missed his chance with.

But chance has a way of giving you exactly what you need, even if you don't know it yet...

[Podfic of] When The Lights Go On Again by Dr_Fumbles_McStupid, kalakirya, KD reads (KDHeart), lattice_frames, lavenderfrost, miss_marina95, Opalsong, paraka, Superstitiousme, vassalady

Aliens have invaded earth, and the Avengers are scattered. While Steve leads the resistance, Tony once again finds himself playing captive scientist. In the midst of a violent alien regime, separated by seemingly insurmountable boundaries, Steve and Tony have nothing to keep themselves going but each other.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Nine.

A warm, heartfelt thank you to my readers for your continued engagement :)

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,140

Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

“And so, I says to this fella, I says, right, listen here, mate! Any more out of you and you’ll be shitting your bloody teeth for a week, and you’ll never believe what he says to me, John. I tell ya now, you’ll never believe it, son. He stands there, right, fag dangling from his mouth, and he says to me...” 

John didn’t give a damn what the fellow in question had said as they stood guarding the front gates of Bryn’s home, gladly watching the sun beginning to sink in the sky. From the first moment, he’d asked Tommy never to pair him with Mickey Two Suits, begged him, in fact, and what had his brother done?  

…"so, there we are, right, having a scrap about it and then suddenly, this fucking umbrella comes flying out of nowhere! And it’s only the fella’s old dear, ain’t it, giving him a clobbering and dragging him home by his ear! I says to our Wilf, I says ‘eh, look at that! Thinks he’s hard enough to have a go at a Blinder and it’s his mom who has to run in and save his arse!’ What a night, John. Ya should have been there!” 

“Mickey...” 

“...and we went had a good ole’ knees up after, we did. Drank the Red Lion right out of whiskey that night, and you ain’t heard the best part yet, pal!” 

“Mickey, will...” 

“So, the landlord has this great, big Irish Wolfhound, right, and this group of lads are...” 

“Two Suits! Holy fucking shit, will you shut up!” John’s exasperated tones matched his wide eyes, shaking his head. “Christ you don’t half yammer on, mate!” 

Mickey pinked at the cheeks a little to have been – although lightly – admonished by one of his bosses, muttering his apologies and lighting a cigarette. He lasted all of twenty seconds. 

“So, we off for a few Christmas Eve drinks up the pub once your lady wakes up? Christmas Eve at The Garrison, ain’t nothing like it, is there? Do you remember that one year when... bloody hell!” 

This time, though, Mickey’s no doubt lengthy spiel was interrupted by a sight that made John’s heart flutter, Bryn suddenly appearing before them. “No, Mickey. John and I are to depart for Warwickshire, to a party hosted by Tommy and the lovely Grace.”  

John had wondered how well Grace would take to Bryn, but after introducing them for the first time just three days before, he’d found the women had a very natural chemistry with one another. He was also pleased – for Tommy more than himself – that it had encouraged Polly to warm towards his soon-to-be sister-in-law a little more as well, since he and Grace were to be married in the New Year.  

His aunt was not quick to warm to any women who came into the lives of her beloved nephews, especially not if she had good reason not to trust them, just as she’d had with both Grace and Bryn. For the latter, though, it had melted as soon as she’d seen something of herself within his ancient vampire lover, a woman who’d had her children torn from her, a woman whose pain she understood all too well.  

Leaving Mickey to trudge down to the bus stop and travel back to Small Heath, John and Bryn went inside, the former pouring himself a whiskey while Bryn readied herself for the evening. She was affixing tiny little pearl adorned pins into her hair when he ventured into the bedroom, kissing her bare shoulder as she sat at her vanity.  

“I thought you lot weren’t meant have a reflection.” 

Him and that flipping novel he’d taken it upon himself to read. She rolled her eyes, turning to press her lips to his cheek. “Not everything Bram Stoker claims about us is true, you know.” Picking up her perfume, she spritzed herself liberally, the scent misting over her pale skin. “Although I must confess, being able to turn myself into a bat would be useful. If for nothing else than to retreat from awkward social situations.” 

“Yeah,” he hummed, swirling the amber contents of his glass, “don’t think I’d fancy you half as much as a flying rodent. Maybe a bit still, like, but not as much as usual.”  

Her look of incredulity had him tipping his head back, his laughter filling the room. “You are disgusting, John Shelby!” 

“Still laughing though, ain’t ya!” Indeed, she was. His uncouthness, lack of filter and penchant for being completely inappropriate never ceased to entertain her. Truly, she had never met anybody like her darling John. She shook her head, picking up her kohl pencil and beginning to smoke her eyes sultry black. A little mascara and a twist of rouge to her cheeks and she was finished, speedily packing the rest of what she needed for their stay at Arrow House and whizzing down to the car to place her cases in, John going to ready Katie.  

The child had been spending more time with him at Bryn’s since school had finished for Christmas, being cared for during the day by Bettie until Bryn awoke and spent time with her before bed. It had warmed his heart hugely to witness their bond forming, Katie furnishing the Christmas tree with her help, overhearing the bedtime stories his love would recite to her, the old Norse sagas his daughter loved to hear. Katie’s bedtime upon their arrival at Tommy’s house was no different. 

“The crow went flying toward the North, croaking as she flew, “Let Hela keep what she holds. Let Hela keep what she holds.” That crow was the hag Thaukt transformed, and the hag Thaukt was Loki. 

“He flew to the north and came into the wastes of Jötunheim. As a crow he lived there, hiding himself from the wrath of the Gods. He told the giants that the time had come for them to build the ship Naglfar, the ship that was to be built out of the nails of dead men, and that was to sail to Asgard on the day of Ragnarök with the giant Hrymer steering it...” 

Standing in silent watch through the crack in the door, John smiled widely as Bryn recited a fairytale about Loki, Norse god of mischief to his spellbound daughter, the covers pulled up to her chin, Bryn’s hands gesturing as she spoke of the tale. At her core, she was such a natural mother, something within her so strongly maternal. The thought had never crossed his mind back when he’d first begun his courtship with her, but truly, she was everything Katie needed. 

She was everything he needed, too.  

“Now that’s a look of love if ever I saw one.” 

At hearing Polly’s whisper, he turned, grin still fixed firmly in place as his cheeks coloured a little bit at being caught staring so adoringly at the scene. “She’s only known her just under three weeks and she dotes on that little girl as if she were her own.” Walking away from the bedroom, he pulled a cigarette out, lighting up. “Ain’t what you thought she was, is she?”  

Polly lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing a fraction. “I don’t like to concede, but you’re right. She isn’t. Brynhild has surprised me with her nature. I never forget what she is, but I’m getting to know that what she is isn’t all she is.” Reaching for his face, she stroked his cheek, laying a pecked kiss upon the other. “I’m pleased for you, love. You look very happy.”  

He smiled again, his handsome features lighting up the dim glow coming from the bedroom. “I am, Pol. Might not have been long, but I am.”  

“Come on.” Opening her arm, she draped it around his shoulders, steering him down the corridor in the direction of the stairs. “Let’s go get drunk and eat too much food, have a good ole’ knees up.”  

Walking down into the throng of people milling around the welcome hall, the mix of guests were mostly business, both legitimate and not so, family and friends, servers carrying trays of drinks and food, the laughter and chatter filling the spruce-scented air. John was just reaching for a whiskey when he felt a cool hand slip into his, Bryn arriving with him, taking a champagne flute from a passing member of the wait staff.  

“How does it feel?” 

“How does what feel, my darling?” she asked, pressing herself close to him as he released her hand, wrapping an arm around her instead. 

“To be the most beautiful woman in the room?”  

She sipped her champagne, eyeing him with a twinkle there in the hypnotic blue of her irises. “Oh, you presume yourself to be so very charming!” 

His smirk widened. “Are you charmed?” 

“I am,” she hummed. 

“Then I’m fucking charming.” He kissed her head, his arm tightening around her. “Tell me about what underwear you’ve got on under that dress.” 

“You know my thoughts towards underwear, my love,” she purred, kissing his cheek as they moved through the guests. “I don’t like anything that gets in the way of your mouth.”  

A bolt shot through him, John closing his eyes for a moment. Opening them, he pulled himself back from the haze of lust to be greeted by an oncoming business associate, fellow bookmaker Kenneth Thompson.  

“John! Good evening to you and your fine lady, here! How are you keeping?”  

While he and her love got into conversation about the next race meets of the New Year, Bryn found herself beckoned over by Grace and Polly, gliding over through the throng of guests. It was as a young server passed her by that she caught the faintest whiff of it, a smell her nose never failed to detect. Her eyes snapped to the back of the redheaded girl’s neatly pinned tresses, watching her move from guest to guest.  

“You’re on alert,” Polly noted when she arrived with them, seeing how Bryn suddenly appeared much less casual in demeanour. “What is it?” Although not knowing her for long, she’d familiarised herself with how the vampire carried herself, the minute changes within her normally quite stoic disposition. Polly Gray well understood when it paid to be observant.  

“That girl,” Bryn began, pointing with her champagne flute. “Grace, how new is she within your employment? Also, is she local?” 

“Very new,” she confirmed, her eyes following the cold, hard stare of her vampire friend’s eyes. “Everybody is, though. With us only officially moving in recently, the staff were hired just over a week ago. As for where she’s from, Tyneside according to her references. Why do you ask?”  

“Thought I recognised her locally. I must be mistaken.” she lied, giving Polly a look that she read instantly. Tommy hadn’t filled in Grace over everything regarding Bryn, other than to obviously keep what she was well under her hat. Initially, she hadn’t believed him at all, laughing away under the impression that he was having her on upon their first meet. When Bryn had proved it by popping her fangs, she’d almost fallen out of her chair. 

With Grace called away to continue playing gracious hostess, Polly moved Bryn into the corner of the room away from earshot of the other partygoers. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

“That girl,” she began, her eyes flitting away to follow her before they snapped back to Polly. “She does not bathe often, for not only do I detect a fine scent of body odour, but I also smell Rasmussen on her. It is faint, but present.”  

“You’re fucking joking me,” she hissed, eyes scanning the room. “I’ll get John and Tommy, let’s get this sorted.” 

Immediately, Bryn gripped her arm. “No, no, Polly. We need not involve the men just yet. Let me watch her. Act as you normally would, begin to laugh at everything I’m saying.” 

Polly’s faux, yet believable chuckle filled the air, Bryn affixing a huge smile to her face before launching into a real story, all the while watching the girl as she flitted from guest to guest. For all intents and purposes, they were having a wonderful Christmas Eve, with no suspicions over any infiltration to their circle.  

Every so often, the serving girl’s eyes would find Bryn, studying her in confirmation of this, the vampire feeling her entire being hum on high alert. As soon as she exited the welcome hall, Bryn moved to follow her, ducking speedily into the shadows as she stalked her, the girl looking as if she was heading back down to the kitchen.  

There was a pantry just to the side of the grand kitchen, a designated space where the butler would keep track of the household provisions at a small desk and put in the orders at the grocery, baker and butcher on a twice-weekly basis, Bryn remaining concealed from sight as the girl quietly made her way inside. She was just about to enter after her when John and Polly appeared.  

“Oi, don’t you look at me like that, Brynhild,” Polly whispered sternly, noting the displeasure she was viewed with. “Wasn’t me who said anything.”  

“She’s right, love” John spoke, touching a hand to her shoulder. “It was me who felt it.” 

Of course, he would. John Shelby had so much of her blood travelling through his veins at that point, he might as well have called himself Brynhild Mark Two. Holding a finger to her lips, Bryn listened, hearing the serving girl make her request to the telephone exchange. Rasmussen.  

Bingo.  

“Mr Rasmussen, I hope I am not disturbing you.”  

Before John or Polly knew it, Bryn was gone from before them, the butler’s pantry door flung open, both striding in to find the telephone cable pulled from the socket and a snarling Bryn pressing the girl down onto the desk by her throat.  

“How much did he pay you to infiltrate?” she growled, her fangs bared, the girl shaking in fright as she found herself at the very wrong end of a powerful vampire’s temper.  

“I-I d-d-don't know w-what you...” 

“Oh, bloody spare us!” Polly exclaimed, closing the door behind them. “You can’t fool a nose like hers. She smelled them on you.”  

“B-but I-I...” 

Bryn’s gripped tightened. “I said, how much, child?”  

“T-ten p-pounds.” 

A lot of money for a girl who she estimated likely earned less than a third of that a week. “I will pay you treble that to call him back right now and tell him that I am not among the Shelby family. For I know that is why you are here. As my friend just stated, I can smell them on you.” She shook her head, her nose crinkling. “Poor, unfortunate girl. Perhaps if you bathed more often, you might have been successful.”  

Nodding through her shakes, she felt on the verge of wetting her knickers in fear, watching the vampire as she looked to her companions. “Darling, plug the telephone back in.”  

John nodded, eyeing the girl with distaste, Bryn going into her small clutch bag and pulling out three ten-pound notes. “Here. I will pay you this to deliver the message. That is all you have to do. Do you understand?”  

“I-I do.” 

Bryn beamed, but her smile carried not a trace of warmth to it. “Good.”  

With the phone reconnected, the girl tucked her money into her neat little apron, taking the receiver and once again requesting the correct name to the exchange.  

“Helen, we were cut off before. Now, what do you have for us, pet?” Edward asked upon answering, the girl not able to drag her eyes away from Bryn, shaking with fright at the faint sound of her rumbling warning growl.  

“I’m afraid I have nothing.” She swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. “The woman you described is not within the guests. Just about everybody else notable is, but not any women with dark hair and a tattooed throat and chest, I’m afraid, sir.”  

“Stick around, she mightn't have arrived yet. Like we said, it might be another. Sounds daft, love, but look out for people who are paler than usual, and who don’t eat or drink with quite the same gusto as others do, like.” 

“Shall do, sir. I will report back tomorrow evening.” With that, the call ended, Helen finding herself on the receiving end of three very angry looking people. Well, only two were people. “What do I tell him tomorrow?” 

“As long as it doesn’t involve anything to do with vampires being around the family, tell him whatever the fuck you like,” John spoke, moving to impose himself before her, reaching into his pocket to pull out his knife. “And if you do fucking breathe a word about her to anyone, we will find out, and bab, you don’t want to know what I’ll fucking do to ya. We clear?” 

With a cold blade pressed against her cheek and the even colder glare of a vampire upon her, Helen nodded. “I shan’t say anything. I’ll just tell him there wasn’t any here. I promise, just please don’t hurt me.”  

Returning the knife to his pocket, he patted her cheek with his hand. “Good girl. Now, go up and pack your bags. Now.” 

“No.” Halting her with a splayed hand to her chest, Bryn stood in her path, shaking her head as she looked to John. “We must ensure she makes that call, John. If she doesn’t, then they will deduce that I am here and have dealt with her.” 

She was right. “What do you plan on doing to her?” 

Bryn pondered his statement for all of five seconds. “Fetch me some rope. We tie her to a chair in here and tell no one to enter. Then we come down here again at sundown tomorrow, let her make her call and escort her from the premises.” 

“And what the fuck are we meant to tell the serving staff, why they can’t come in here all of a sudden?” he asked, perplexed.  

Shaking her head in bafflement, a frown of light incredulity creased her forehead. “Darling, you run both legitimate and cooked books for a living; you’re better at mathematics than most of the fucking Arabs who created it. You’re also a goddamned Shelby, lying is in your nature. Do not tell me such mental calculus is beyond you.” Her eyebrows continued to rise, gesticulating wildly with her free hand. “Bloody make something up!”  

Polly couldn’t keep the smile from her face at how Bryn had both managed to praise and admonish him at the exact same time, especially watching John not know whether to be annoyed or enamoured by the crisply delivered statement from his lady. 

“I ain’t sure if I want to fuck you or slap you right now.”  

“I’ll let you do both later,” she winked, nodding towards the door. “Rope. Now.” As soon as he left the pantry, Polly was in soft fits.  

“Oh, my giddy aunt!” she snorted, lighting herself a cigarette while Bryn pushed a still terrified, but complacent Helen down into the wooden chair behind the desk. “Seeing you run circles around my bloody nephew like that is the only Christmas present I’ll need this year.”  

Bryn smirked, taking Helen’s hand and popping her fangs, forcing the young woman’s finger to her mouth and piercing the tip upon the point of one of those long, sharp teeth. Helen winced, Bryn licking the drop of blood that swelled forth. “There is my insurance, should stupidity and luck be on your side and mean you somehow escape. I will be able to find my way to you instantly.” 

With the way John bound her legs and arms to the chair upon his return, though, Bryn sorely doubted that Helen would be going anywhere, but took the phone with them just in case. “Please tell me that one day you shall delight my senses by tying me to the bed like that.”  

He paused upon the staircase, raising an eyebrow. “You could get out of it in about half a second, though.” 

“I could,” she purred, leaning close to flick her tongue against his earlobe, giving it a little nibble. “I wouldn’t attempt to, though.” 

“You,” he began, waving a finger at her, “you need to pack it in, you do. We’ve got to go fill Tommy in over all of this and you’ve bloody gone and gotten me at half-mast as it fucking is.” He nodded downwards, Bryn seeing the outline of his cock beginning to tent his trousers, chuckling as she grinned.  

“Well, my, my.” Leaning close, she kissed him, her lips all fiery honey upon his. “It looks like something is looking up this evening after all.”  

Carrying on up the stairs, she left him standing there waiting to deflate again, shaking his head as he muttered. “Bloody insufferable temptress.”  

“I heard that.” 

“You were fucking meant to, bab!” he shouted, making the server passing him jump, John placing a reassuring hand to his shoulder as he grinned widely, the man continuing his trajectory. “God, I love that woman.” 

As she stepped back into the throng of the party, Bryn heard that, too. She would never tire of it either, slipping her hand into his when he joined her after a few moments, fully calmed in the trouser department as they walked over to where Polly waited for them, opening the door to Tommy’s office.  

“Grace specifically told me no business tonight, so whatever this is, make it quick,” he spoke, taking a seat behind his desk, looking up to see Arthur enter the room, neatly closing the door behind him and shutting out the noise from the party.  

“Do not worry, Tommy. I have every intention of being perfectly concise so we may resume this wonderful evening you and Grace have put together for us,” Bryn began, Tommy nodding in acknowledgement of her praise, his eyes fixing upon her. “A spy sent by Edward Rasmussen infiltrated your serving staff. It was only because the dirty girl does not bathe quite as often as one should that I managed to smell their scent upon her, knew she had been close to them. 

“She was sent here to look for me specifically. I apprehended her with John and Polly prior to her delivering news to Edward himself, intercepted the phone call she was shortly to make, forcing her to tell him all was clear. He expects her to call in again tomorrow to confirm that no vampire fitting my image, or any other for that matter arrived here at Arrow House.” 

Arthur leaned around Polly, nodding to her. “You alright though, love? She ain’t burned you with no silver or nothing, has she?” 

Bryn was touched by his concern. “I am fine, dear Arthur. Trust and believe if she had of attempted to wound me, your brother would have likely acted swiftly.” 

“Wouldn’t fucking half have,” John muttered, pulling a cigar from his pocket and lighting up.  

Tommy digested her words, drawing idly upon his cigarette. “Which serving girl was it?” 

“Helen.” 

“And where is Helen now?” 

“Tied up in the butler’s pantry.” 

He rose to his feet. “Good enough, Brynhild.” Walking around the desk, he placed a hand to John’s shoulder as he passed. “Fits into our world just nicely does your lady, John boy. We’ll deal with this tomorrow.” Opening his door, he gestured through the space, the noise of the merriment filling the air as his family filed back out. Bryn was the last to leave, Tommy halting her with a soft hand to her forearm.  

“I’ll leave it to your discretion, whether Helen actually leaves the grounds or not tomorrow,” he whispered, his stare so strong Bryn felt it boring into the back of her skull. “Either way, though, she is to be gone and kept quiet.” 

Bryn would not have survived for as long as she had, should she not have known well how to read between the lines. Smiling, she leaned to kiss Tommy’s cheek, gliding from the room to take another glass of champagne and slide in at her love’s side once more, the head of the family watching her as he closed the heavy office door behind him.  

In offering his protection to Bryn, he saw well how the alliance benefitted him from her being close to them. Literally being able to smell the faint trace of an enemy upon a person was a skill he wished he possessed, but did not need to now that he had the most powerful vampire in England close with his family.  

Tommy Shelby knew a valuable asset when he saw one. The fact that she made his younger brother the happiest looking man in the room didn’t hurt either.  

[peterman-spideyparker]

Speak Now (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Howdy everyone! This fic was voted #2 to post in a poll I did a few weeks ago! I’ve been working with this idea for a while (ie like 9 months), and it’s reverse circumstances of this fic I wrote back in July. I was at work earlier this week with my music on shuffle, and Taylor Sift popped on the playlist, and I’m like “hmm, this works for the fic, I think”, so I’m gonna call reverse ex-post facto inspiration? Alright, now I’m rambling. Enjoy! :)

Summary: Being friends with both Elektra and Matt is by no means easy, especially with them being a couple and your long-standing love for one blind attorney. But regardless, you told yourself you’d always be there for them, no matter what—and that includes being there for them on their wedding day.

Warnings: Angst, hurt comfort, fluff, love confessions, guilt/heartache, ignoring feelings

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Elektra Natchios, Father Lantom

Word Count: 3,014

It’s fine. You just need to remember to breathe. Foggy has the rings, Father Lantom and Maggie have everything set in the main church—everything is fine. Just a few more minutes, and it’s all over. We get that started, we get down the aisle, and we get Matt and Elektra married. Easy peasy.

“Oh, sorry!” you hear Foggy say, his hands firmly on your shoulders to prevent you from falling down as you bump into one another.

“Thanks!” you breathe, steadying yourself.

“Why are you running around the church like a frantic chicken?”

“Just a lot of energy, you know? Adrenaline. Gotta get it out before the ceremony starts.”

“And how are you doing?” Foggy asks. 

“Fine.”

“No, (Y/N), how are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” you try, but to no avail.

“C’mon. You know.”

“I’m hanging on by threads,” you admit shakily. “It’s a lot.”

“Being a bridesmaid and watching your friends get married? Or watching Matt get married to someone else?”

“No, Foggy,” you interject, now determined to kill the conversation where it stands. You thought you put the final nail in the coffin of that thought a year ago at the engagement party.

“But you love him!” he whisper yells.

“Yes, I do! And it’s because I love him that I can’t say anything. For the first time in his life, Matt is happy. He’s ready to do something that he never thought he’d get the chance to enjoy, let alone have, and just as much goes for Elektra. So, I will watch them go down the aisle, I will stand by them as they commit their love and lives to one another, I will watch them kiss and smile and dance, I will help send them off on their honeymoon, watch them welcome their children, and watch them grow old and happy together! They will be happy—finally happy—and that’s what matters.”

“So your happiness doesn’t matter?”

“Not when it comes to Matt’s happiness. Matt’s will always come before mine, and that’s a guarantee.”

“(Y/N)—.”

“Every. Time,” you repeat. “I can’t jeopardize that on the off-chance that he feels an inkling of anything more toward me. I can’t hurt Elektra like that, and I sure as hell can’t unload on Matt like that.”

“But isn’t it better knowing for sure rather than always wondering what if?”

“No,” you say weakly. “Because right now, I know for sure that Matt is happy. I see it in the way he walks, the way he smiles, the way he answers the phone. He is happy, Foggy. And I need to be happy for him. Now, I need to make sure my makeup isn’t ruined, and then I need to go help Elektra before she walks down the aisle.”

“(Y/N)—!”

You pick up the skirt of your dress slightly so you don’t trip, creating as much distance between Foggy and yourself that you can.

“(Y/N), I was worried!” Elektra says as you come back from the bathroom down the hall, having dried your tears and collected yourself from your conversation with Foggy. “I couldn’t find you anywhere! Are you alright?”

“I promise, it’s nothing. You look so beautiful,” you tell her as you spread out her train, plucking off minute pieces of lint from the carpet that clung white fabric.

She gives you a hug and holds me close. “(Y/N)?” she asks as you part. “Can I ask you to do me one last huge favor?”

“I’m your maid of honor—it’s what I’m here for.”

“I know I said I wanted to walk down the aisle alone, but I’m wondering if you would be willing to give me away to Matthew?”

The request is so genuine and the look of hope in her eyes is undeniable. “Of course,” you breathe. “I’m here for you, El. Always.”

She kisses your cheeks and absolutely beams. 

“I can’t believe this is finally happening.”

“I’m so happy for you,” you tell her, looping your arm through hers as we get to the double doors. The music begins to kick up and you hear the rustle of people stand just before the doors open, exposing the both of you to the excited eyes of many. It’s far more difficult than you anticipated to plaster on a smile and keep tears at bay when you walk down the aisle next to Elektra, seeing Matt stand there in a tux looking so happy. 

God, you wish he was waiting there for you. 

That ship has sailed. You can’t drown yourself trying to chase the thought, because you will sink and no one will ever find you. You had opportunities to tell him how you really felt, and you didn’t. You have to live with that.

You don’t know how you’ve managed to get down the aisle so fast with time moving so slow. You can’t bring yourself to say a single word as you place Elektra’s hand in Matt’s before you step to the side to take your place, praying for all eyes to be on them so no one has to watch you suffer with a smile on your face. You affix your eyes on a column just behind Foggy’s head, not willing to try and catch a glimpse of anything that will cause you to feel the multitude of emotions bubbling in your chest. 

It’ll be over soon. You’re doing the right thing. This is how it’s supposed to happen. They deserve one another. Words and phrases like these play on your mind in an endless loop as the ceremony progresses, silently praying that you’ll be zoned out enough for when they finally kiss to not process it when you’re drawn to the words coming from Father Lantom’s mouth.

“Elektra Natchios, do you take Matthew Murdock to be your lawfully wedded spouse?” he asks.

To your surprise, she doesn’t answer immediately. You watch her let out a long breath before she gives Matt’s hands a squeeze, the pause and silence growing longer and louder with each passing moment.

“Can we talk?” you hear her whisper to Matt. 

“Ellie, what’s wrong?” Matt responds softly, his words barely audible. 

Without another word, she takes his hand and they move back up the aisle, and you watch them take a turn to where Elektra was was getting ready just before the ceremony. You lock eyes with Foggy. He wordlessly asks if you know what’s going on with a scrunch of his eyebrows, and you just arch yours in response—the universal cue for “I don’t know”. 

“All the excitement,” Father Lantom chuckles, addressing a confused crowd. “They probably need a moment to collect themselves.” He twists toward you before speaking in hushed tones. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“It’s probably like you said—excitement,” you breathe. Or cold feet. But Elektra wouldn’t do that. She’s been waiting so long for a moment like this. For this moment, with Matt. “If they’re not back in a minute, I’ll go check on them.”

The minute passes in the slowest manner possible, but nonetheless, you stick to your word and scurry in the most non-alarming fashion possible to follow where they went. When you’re unable to hear any voices through the only door they’d be behind, you raise your knuckles to the wood. 

“Guys?” you knock gently. “Are you doing alright?”

“Yeah, just give us a second,” Matt says, but not before Elektra swings the door open. 

“Can you come in for a moment?” she asks softly, and you can see the conflict written all over her face. You let out a small breath, conceding to her request and closing the door behind you. 

“Can I get you guys—?” you start, only to be cut off mid-sentence. 

“(Y/N), tell us,” Elektra starts, her breathing steady and calm. “Tell us we’re doing the right thing. Tell us we should be getting married.”

“What kind of question is that?” you ask, truly confused. 

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Elektra—.”

“Repeat the sentences.”

You take a breath, looking at them. “You both love one another. People in love get married. You’re listening to your hearts.”

“You can’t say it.”

“Ellie, I—.”

“You’re holding something back,” Matt adds, his tongue peaking out to lick his lips. “What aren’t you telling us?” His tone is telling. He knows. Damn super hearing.

You sigh, desperately trying to steady your heart rate and deflect. “You’re both just letting the nerves get to you. You’re getting in your heads.”

“We need to hear you say it,” Elektra tries once more. “Please.”

You sigh, feeling your chest tightening. “You’re doing the right thing. You two should get married. You belong together.” You feel like you’re going to be sick as the last piece of your heart shatters before evaporating into nothingness. “I’m going to make sure that everyone is staying calm. I’ll see you both out there soon, okay?”

As you leave the quiet room, you hear the rush of dress shoes follow after you.

“Hey,” Matt says softly, gently catching your arm.

“Matt, things have been delayed enough. We shouldn’t hold them up any longer.”

“You’re still holding something back.”

“Matt—.”

“I can’t get married if my best friend is lying to me about something. (Y/N), please,” he breathes heavily. “Please, just tell me the truth.”

“You look at her the way I always wished you’d look at me, and I die a little bit inside every time I see it,” you admit feebly, watching his expression change through bleary eyes. “That look . . . God, Matt, you love her! I don’t matter in this. Just go and be with her, and for once in your life, stop being such a masochist and be happy!”

With anguish and regret, you pull your arm free from Matt’s grip, making a turn for the double doors that lead outside rather than the ones that lead into the cathedral, needing get as far away from Clinton Church as you can. 

“How’d you know I’d be here?” you mumble as you curl into yourself in your favorite reading room at the Columbia Law Library. 

“I didn’t,” Matt sighs as he takes a few steps over and sits next to you. “This is where I go when I need to think.”

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, you caught me. I locked in on your heartbeat and followed it.”

“Why, Matt?”

“Why what?”

“Don’t shit with me, Matt,” you sigh in defeat, taking in his undone bowtie and general state of dishevelment in his formal attire. “Why didn’t you just go through with it, Matt? You two love each other.”

“But we love you, too. You’ve always been there for us, even when anyone with a modicum of common sense would have left us.” He turns toward you. “Why didn’t you say anything? To either of us?”

“It wasn’t my place. She loves you, and you love her. Simple as that.”

“But I love you, too.”

“Not in the same way.”

“(Y/N).” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs grazing over your knuckles. “I do love you like that. I didn’t think you felt the same, and my God, I was too afraid to ask. I didn’t want to lose my best friend. I couldn’t lose you.”

You sniffle, still refusing to meet his eyes. “Don’t let Foggy hear that, it’ll give him a complex.”

You hear a small chuckle escape his lips. “It’s true though. I’m not sure what I’d do if I did something that meant not having you in my life. I just kept my feelings locked away deep down in my heart because I knew I needed you in my life however I could have you. And then I heard what you told Foggy, and I . . .” He rests his forehead on yours and nudges you with his nose so you finally look at his face. “Can you give me a chance?”

“I want to, Matt, but . . .”

“Please don’t say but.”

“I’d look at you, and I would only think about how I ruined the happiest day of your life. Besides. You’re the ex now. It’s friend rule number one not to date their ex, no matter how you feel about them. And Elektra . . . I couldn’t do that to her.”

“Even if she gives her blessing?”

You whip your head around, seeing Elektra standing in black jeans and a red turtleneck, her leather jacket covering most of it. 

“Elektra, I’m so—,” you start. 

“You don’t need to apologize, darling. None of it was your fault.” She moves to your other side and wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a hug. “Before you came to find Matt and I . . . We spoke, and we’re okay. We’ll always love one another, but not in the way that we deserve. But you two . . . You two can. You already have. I’ve seen it. And you’re a shit liar, my darling. I always thought . . . But when you put my hand in Matt’s at the altar, I knew for certain.” She gently tucks some of your loose hair behind your ear. “You just need to have the courage to take the next step.” She gently tilts your face to look at hers. “I’m okay.”

You look between them—Elektra’s eyes filled with resolve and calm, Matt’s a storm of a million emotions, and you can feel how your heart tears in half. Feeling like the room is closing in on you and the air is being pulled from your lungs, you grab your things and rush past them, needing the cool sting of crisp autumn air to help you feel something else then the hot guilt coursing through your veins.

Maybe Matt won’t come in today. The man did take the week off for his honeymoon, after all. But, he is his own boss and can change that as he pleases. Still, the weekend was eventful as hell. Maybe he needed a day. Maybe if you just keep your head down long enough, you won’t have to catch the sympathetic and pitiful glances of Foggy and Karen. No client appointments are scheduled today, either, so—.

“Hey,” you hear a gently voice say at your desk. Looking up, you see Matt with two cups of coffee in his hands. “Got your usual.”

“Thanks,” you say softly, taking it from him, your heart skipping a beat as your fingers brush against one another. You just want things to go back to normal, as if the weekend didn’t happen. This is a sign that Matt wants that too—a drip of normalcy. But why does he have to sound so tender like that?

“Do you have some time?”

“Matt, I—.”

“Please?”

Damn. He knows you can’t say no when he sounds like that.

“Y-Yeah,” you say softly. “How about we go for a walk?”

He nods, letting you get up and put on your jacket. When you get to his side, you take his elbow out of habit, freezing after a few steps when guilt hits you like a freight train to your chest. 

“(Y/N)—,” he tries softly.

“I can’t do this,” you tell him quietly, tears stinging at your lashes and nose. “I’m sorry, Matt, I just can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“Because, Matt! Because I look at you, and I know how I feel! I feel guilt that I am what came between you finally being happy and getting something you’ve told me time and time again you never thought you’d have. I look at you, and still love you as much as the day that I met you and I can’t stop it. But I know that I can’t be what you need because I will never be able to understand you in the way that you deserve—the way Elektra can. I’m just me, Matt. I’m just me.”

You’re not prepared for what he says next. “And what makes you think I don’t love you just the way that you are? For everything that you are? That I’m glad you can’t understand me in those dark ways because you’re the sunshine that makes the darkness easier to deal with? That I know that the only person that I could ever really be with and be happy with is you? That I don’t love you with my entire heart?”

The way that you feel tears fall onto the fabric of your shirt let you know just how hard and fast you’re crying. The way that Matt puts his coffee next to yours so he can cup your face and wipe your tears away only adds to the gravity of his words. 

“Please, angel,” he continues gently. “Please let me help you realize just how much you mean to me. Just how deeply I love you. Because I will spend the rest of my life doing just that, no matter what you say.”

You don’t know what else to do except pull him in for a kiss. It’s not pretty or graceful. It’s wet and snotty and shaky—everything that a first kiss shouldn’t be. But the way that one of Matt’s hands stays on your face as the other moves around the back of your head so his fingers weave into your hair tells you that it’s everything he could ever want. When he finally pulls away, you do what you can to wipe off your tears that fell onto his cheeks.

“I love you,” you whisper as your thumbs skate across his skin. 

“I love you, too, angel,” he breathes, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you so much.”

“C-Can, uh,” you sniffle. “What next?”

“We go for that walk? Talk about anything and everything. We can figure this out. I want to figure this out.”

You nod as Matt wipes the last of your tears away. “Sounds good.”

He kisses you softly once more and loops his arm in yours as we walk out of the office. The way he holds onto you tells you that he never intends on letting go.

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[iwanttobeliv]

Yo soy Betty, la fea (Now and then)

Man, I’ve been meaning to write something ever since I finished watching the very first episode of Betty la fea, la historia continua but there were too many thoughts and feelings and too little coherence to make it happen, and yet, here I am trying it anyway.

Even in Brazil, a country that culturally embraces telenovelas, every now and then when I said Betty, a feia was my favorite, people would look at me funny. And it’s kind of difficult to explain or make people understand that there is just so much more behind Betty’s fringe, braces, and very peculiar laughter. Yes, Armando did yell a lot. And there were perhaps too many episodes focused on Sofia and Efrain's drama or those final ones with Inesita’s ex-husband, and when I managed to rewatch the whole thing, boy was I glad to be able to fast-forward these parts. Some of the sets, like Betty’s room were very clearly low-budget and full of strange choices that I could never quite figure out, and yet, none of this really mattered because the writing was phenomenal. The characters were engaging. The actors were brilliant. And the love story, that was just the best.

So I watched and rewatched. I managed to come across friends who were happy to talk about it and dissect all the things that made it work so well, and so subtle is the distinction that despite the many many adaptations worldwide, to me, none have ever been better than the original Betty.

When Betty was first aired in Brazil, I was about 15 and I can’t begin to explain how seeing a young woman who never belonged anywhere due to her looks resonated with me. Someone who was made fun of for being different and used a sense of humor to keep going. Someone who had hopes and dreams and felt none of them were within reach. And someone who managed to survive all the terrible things life would throw her way in pursuit of her happy ending.

And I guess this feels like something that needs to be said first.

As far as I'm concerned, what makes Betty so fundamentally brilliant is the fact that in YSBLF, when it comes to the love story, the guy falls in love with her being exactly who she is. No more or less. There are so many stories about the ugly duckling who manages to be seen after becoming a swan, and yet there it was, a story that showed that the duckling didn’t have to be anything else to be deserving of love and happiness.

Watching her we went through all ranges of emotion. I remember closing my eyes as I tried to watch her going through her first ‘transformation’ and the disaster it was. I remember feeling joy for her, for having such a good friend in Nicolas and such loving parents. I remember watching Armando as he was, having his feelings change little by little, all while she became an essential part of his life and work. And then, watching expectantly as we had to go through the awful plan he and Mario came up with and all the repercussions that would come of it. I remember thinking that JEA had to be a pretty great actor and that Armando had to be very well-written otherwise it would be impossible to feel anything but disgust for him and what he did. And then watching him fall for Betty utterly and completely. I remember sharing her fury and thirst for revenge when she found the letter. And then drinking up on every interaction between the two of them, knowing what she knew and waiting for the bomb to go off. And then to watch Armando go through hell and lose everything that meant something to him, and Betty trying to pick up the pieces of herself and survive the worst of times. And finally her triumphal return and what would soon enough lead her to a happy ending.

Last year, when we got the news of the remake and the OG was made available on streaming, I watched it once again and felt all those things all over again. But now, almost two decades later, with a very different understanding. I still loved every minute of it, but there were things I would have liked to be different.

Like many soaps, as soon as the main couple manages to patch things up it’s a quick jump to the expected happy ending, and while I fully expected Betty to get one, I couldn’t help but wonder, how a relationship could ever work after such a thing. Sure we knew Armando’s feelings were real and there, and all of that way before Betty, the ugly was made beautiful. But she didn’t. How could she truly forgive and trust someone who managed to betray her trust and make her go through hell as a result of deliberate actions? I would have liked to see more of it. It’s the one thing I don’t particularly enjoy in so many love stories and most soaps. How they are always in such a hurry to end the story as if by being together there was nothing else to be told about these characters and their relationship. Oh the potential wasted by their need of getting to the wedding and a baby on the finish line.

And then, much to my surprise, they decide that there’s more to tell. That the story didn’t have to finish there. [Yes, I’m aware of ‘Ecomoda’ just as I’m aware of the universal consent that it never managed to do justice to the characters we loved and cared for. Which is why, I think, the sequel now also made the choice of ignoring it.]

So now I’ve watched the first four episodes. And I have thoughts I would very much like to share and discuss. Things that I don’t particularly like, but understand. Things I wish had been done differently. Things I absolutely love. But this post feels already much too long. For now, I just want to say, I never expected the sequel to be perfect or to perfectly preserve what the OG managed to perform. But I’m genuinely happy we get to see Betty again. And to be able to laugh and cry with her, with all of them. 

It takes me back and it fills me with expectation for what’s yet to come.

Is it Friday yet?

[willows-unnamed-rpg]

Post 1) Overall idea - turn based pirate rpg/ttrpg system

TLDR: I am working on a ttrpg system as a basis for a turn based rpg that is magic, piracy, and exploration. A focus on wealth and growth plus a vast world (hopefully). I am inspired by alot of things, mainly horror and pirate media, so the intent is a more darker setting

Ok onto the post :)

I figured if I actually want to get this bloody game in production I might as well start with a long post detailing some initial thoughts with some hope of any amount of actual engagement (doubtful that is). This thing has lived in my brain for weeks now and it has officially kept me up at night now. Figured I should post something out into the world. Now I guess I should have some form of organizing

Why a turn based rpg

Honestly, it's what I love. I grew up playing RPGs and I love table top RPGs. I figured it was this or action rpg and I don't want an action rpg. Granted it might fit the genre more but also I'm the one making it the thing so I get to call the shots (until someone else hops in if I ever get someone else)

I also Game Master several table top games currently so I have an understanding of combat flow and narrative, I am just used to others adding to the story rather than it being all me (since ttrpgs are inherently collaborative works)

I have some ideas for the system, something I want to go into detail when I am less sleep deprived, but in short I want it to be classless but still guiding the player to general play styles, like mage or tank. I know pirates and magic, but the whole magical dungeon diving fits exploring ancient ruins for money (plus casting a big old fireball at a ship sounds cool as hell).

So a custom rpg system?

Yes. Like I want it to work on its own as a standalone ttrpg system. Since I should be able to make it translate well into a video game. I mean that's the hope. I won't be the first person to do this (look at all the d&d games from the 1980s on dos to BG3, it works)

The idea as said above is classless with point buying perks (kinda like fallout). Unsure if I want it to be a d20 system but I am absolutely going for high roll is better since low roll systems hurt my head (looking at 2e dnd, had to learn it for some dos d&d games and it took a bit of getting used to). But it's all subjected to change since it's literally this post and my brain

Pirates?

You bet. Look, the only good pirate games are Assassin Creed: Black Flag and Sea of Thieves and both are subjective. Of course the big problem here comes from the question of how much time do we put into ship combat to make it fluid. Especially with turn based rpg combat. And I know that will be the challenge. I will not back down from this point. I want ship combat. Even if it's just boarding other vessels. I want fireballs to light gunpowder holds and deal massive damage. I want artificers repairing the ship and manning guns. I want the player to feel at full control and be able to react while making choices that fit into the system. Without it being full on simulation.

As for the player exploration off the boat, that should be easy, like any other RPGs. Of course I have done ttrpg games not video games so I know it will be a pain nonetheless but that's learning and art.

So about that world for exploring

I want that to be it's own post once I nail down the system's mechanics but in short, kinda an Isekai (well not literally, the player isn't from another world, not yet anyway) but all the "Species" (no idea what I want to use for the word) are not native to the world, and so they have been invited over time to explore a long dead universe that they brought in their own beliefs. Does that mean human Christianity mixing with let's say elven nature faith? It's been in my mind as a neat idea but also *yikes* as well. I want to be sure that I consider everything, including cultures who were exploited during the age of sail so I don't propagate more harm. So that will require a lot of research and help from those communities. I also don't want to plop in fantasy races "just because" since they probably won't belong. We tend to see them because Western fantasy is typically "eurocentric", and this game will not be. Pirates were European sure but that ignores so many other groups (Barbary Pirate, Malagasy, South East Asian. Again I need to do more research)

I have tied in my own Mexican culture into my ttrpg games before but that's my own culture and in a small group. This is far larger and I need to give the world the respect it deserves.

What kind of art style?

I am not a very good artist so this one will be in the air until I settle, but I need to grow or get help. I would like something near realism (Honestly like how the Paradox Strategy games tend to do art, EU4 especially since it's the right period of time but again that's eurocentric so who knows)

I can't settle on a style when I haven't even made custom stat blocks for creatures or even know what creatures will be in the game yet. I will say, I love pixel art but I'm aware of exactly how much work it takes to make it wonderful. I have exactly zero skill in most art/drawing and what I do have need work, so best get to doodling to get better

The story?

On my main blog I usually write (though I am bad at posting, let's not make that a habit shall we?) but that doesn't mean I'm good at writing. Writing like drawing is an art, so I need to work on this and get help from others as it warms up. I don't want to disregard writing, it's an rpg, it lives by the narrative.

Other than exploring the world for money, I like the idea of it being focused on either one country or one city. A pirate republic. You could leave on expeditions and come back and those would be arcs. Do everything around town, hang out with companions, romance, and then to move the narrative along we build up to an expedition that changes the republic. Kinda like Dragon Age 2 and Kirkwall (not going into it here since spoilers for the game) but I really like this idea. You can see growth and change and get an impact on the narrative. Obviously this isn't anything new. But it's always a good time

My Inspirations?

That is a hell of a question. I have alot, ranging from Dark Fantasy/Gothic Horror with Ravenloft, Dragon Age, From Software's Library, Lovecraft's work (he isn't gothic horror I know, Eldritch is different but also water monsters in a ocean setting hits good) to pirate media with One Piece, the "Pirates of the Caribbean" movies and the actual historical pirates I know.

And Obviously with any game, Lord of the Rings and System Shock 2 despite how far apart both are and possibly irrelevant they are.

I don't have any current "required reading" minus The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings (and maybe The Dunwitch Horror?)

I guess my inspirations lead me to a darker world, which fits real pirates well

[cosmic-ships]

Alright, I think anon is going off for a little bit. If you got a (real) issue with me you're gonna have to put on your "big boy pants" so to speak and talk to me like an adult without hiding.

A few things to note:

My blog. I chose how to run it. Multiple people trying to tell me what to do. "Tag this" / "change this" / "add that" / "follow me" / "I follow you. You follow me" <- literally how lol/ "stop making personal posts" / "I thought this was a self ship blog why are you talking about x thing" / "insert anons telling me how to tag my ships" hullo? Pretty sure I can now make a check list titled "anon demands"

Blacklist/filter tags exist. Hell options on tumblr exist for long posts (I tag everything that matters like venting/not self ship/playing video games/writing etc and if a tag doesn't work lemme know!) if you still can't be bothered then just unfollow me if I'm making your experience unpleasant by existing on dash. It's not hard.

Blocking and unfollowing is free if you're incapable of blacklist/unfollowing/using features. You don't need to announce your departure. Just move on if you feel like we aren't vibing yeah might suck if we are close moots but ya know, no hard feelings there are other places to talk to each other if you still wanna connect!

I will not be harassed by people with no faces.

I do not condone s*uicide bait or any type of harm

I do not condone who the fuck ever it is who keeps dogging on my ships.

My job is not to catered specifically for everyone else.

I've sort of had enough of of whoever the hell it is or if there is more than one person. Which is truly unfortunate because a lot of engagement happens when anon is on. Idk if it will be a permanent off or if I will bring it back in the future but it sucks people ruin it for everyone else ya know.

Literally tumblr is about curating your own space it's not up to me to make every single person feel comfortable. Sometimes you gotta do things for yourself.

Sorry if this sounds super bitchy but I'm tired. I have a lot of really shitty things happening irl which a good majority of you know and this is suppose to be my happy little escape place and everyone is doing a great job of stressing me out more (everyone as in the weird demanding anons, not the nice people ilu!)

I just wanna love on my f/os and have a nice time talking with my lovely mutuals and rbing stuff

So yes this is a very long winded "I'm turning anon off" but I wanted to say why I'm doing it.

Don't reblog // keeping option on for queue

[ryokawa]

hello!! i don’t know if you’re still accepting drabble requests, but if you are, may i request stick season by noah kahan?

DRABBLE 2 !!

🜸 ⋆˚.⋆ pairing : iwaoi

🜸 ⋆˚.⋆ content warnings : it’s hinted at that they didn’t have a really healthy relationship when they were dating, and iwaizumi’s a drinker. (but it’s nothing too bad, I don’t think.)

🜸 ⋆˚.⋆ an : eeeek! okay okay, i had a lot of fun writing this, and I really hope it’s to your liking. (and btw, my requests are always open!) additionally, this doesn’t exactly follow canon-verse, though it’s real similar. basically i like making iwaizumi a lawyer, so while Oikawa still has his canon job, iwa’s a lawyer <3

Iwaizumi Hajime choked on his whiskey—a rich, amber liquid that, despite its smoothness on the way down, decided to turn into molten lava on the way back up. He coughed, sputtering as the alcohol splashed onto the table, soaking the stack of papers he’d been half-heartedly pretending to work on. It’s a shame, but ultimately—mostly—harmless; he could print new copies in the morning, preferably when he wasn’t boozed out of his mind.

He glanced at the nearly empty bottle of Hibiki sitting at his left—a moderately expensive whiskey, one of those gifts people give when they don’t know what else to buy. It had been a congratulatory gesture for his recent promotion to partner at the firm, a milestone that, in theory, would’ve filled him with pride— should’ve filled him with pride. Yet, as he sat there, pride was the last thing he felt.

He might have been ecstatic a couple of years back, when the idea of a long-distance relationship with Oikawa still seemed like a hurdle they could leap together, rather than the abyss it had become. But then came the lies, the broken-off engagement, and the slow, agonizing collapse of his life alongside everything else.

His phone rang then, like a cruel joke, and Iwaizumi stared at it, fist clenching involuntarily as he fought the urge to smash the thing into a thousand pieces. He’d have to deal with his anger issues someday, he thought. First the alcohol, then the anger, then— the rest will sort itself out. But then he saw the name flashing on his phonescreen, and suddenly he didn’t feel so sure.

With a shaky finger, he accepted the call.

“What are you playing at?” His voice came out harsher than intended, the words jagged and raw.

“Mean, Iwa-chan,” came the familiar, infuriatingly smooth voice on the other end. “I only wanted to say hello. Congrats on the promotion.”

“Fuck off.”

“Why can’t we just talk?”

“There’s nothing left to talk about.”

“Since when were you so pissy?”

Iwaizumi inhaled sharply, every muscle in his body tensing. “I’m hanging up now, Oikawa.”

“No.” There was panic in Oikawa’s voice. It pleased him, just a little. “Hear me out. Please.”

“We haven’t talked in two years. Two full years. And now you want to talk?”

“Is that so absurd?”

“Yes, Oikawa, it’s fucking absurd. We broke up because of you. We aren’t friends because of you.” Iwaizumi’s voice climbed with each word, an avalanche of frustration and bitterness crashing down. “You told me not to call you. You blocked me on Facebook. The other day, I passed your mum on the street, and she didn’t even recognize me. Not even a wave. I’ve done everything you asked, and now you have the nerve to taunt me with a call?”

“I’m not taunting you.”

“Then what the hell are you doing? The last time you called, you told me you didn’t want to hear from me anymore. The time before that, it was to get your stupid shoes back. So what is it this time? What else do you want me to send you?”

“I don’t want anything. I want—”

“Oh, shut up. I don’t care, Oikawa. You don’t get it. You never do.”

“What? Is this about me not going to university? Because I’m not as smart as you?”

“Here we go again,” Iwaizumi groaned, exasperation dripping from every syllable. “You’re brilliant, Oikawa. A celebrity. And you’re so cool. What else do you want? A parade? You need me to stroke your ego some more, oh great one?”

“You’re such a prick.”

“Forgive me,” Iwaizumi drawled, the sarcasm so thick it was almost a tangible thing, clogging the air. “I hate you so goddamn much, you know that? All you do is play with my heart. ‘Cause I know you know what you’re doing. You know I wanted to get married, to settle down, to live a normal fucking life with you and—”

“Iwaizumi, are you drunk?”

“I’m done with you.”

“So you are.”

A silence settled over them, heavy and suffocating, like the calm before a storm.

“Iwaizumi,” Oikawa’s voice was softer now, almost regretful. “Talk to me.”

“Yes, I’ve been drinking. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Why?”

“Because I got a fucking promotion.”

“That’s not it.”

“Now how would you know that?”

“Because I know you.”

Another beat of silence, longer this time. Iwaizumi could almost hear the gears turning in Oikawa’s head, attempting to figure out why there was quiet; he always hated the quiet, didn’t he? But Iwaizumi was tired—bone tired, soul tired—and he’d had enough of playing these games.

He stood up from his desk, a wobbly maneuver that sent the room spinning slightly. “You knew me, Oikawa.”

“What?”

“You don’t know me. You *knew* me.”

“Right.” To his credit, Oikawa didn’t argue, thought it likely was because he was simply too tired. It must have been four in the morning for him, not that Iwaizumi could’ve found it in himself to care. “Still, you’re not telling me the whole truth.”

“And why would I?”

“Because—I don’t know, we’re friends?”

Iwaizumi let out a bitter laugh, hollow and joyless. “You told me not to talk to you. You said we were over, that long-distance would never work, and that my calls were getting annoying. And now you think we’re still friends?”

“You called me like a worried parent! You’re nothing if not clingy, Iwaizumi. You ought to know that.”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“What?”

“If I’m so clingy, why can’t you just leave me alone? I did what you asked, Oikawa. I left you alone, and I was left to imagine growing old with you, settling down, having some semblance of normalcy while you did what? Whore yourself around to half of Argentina?”

“You did not just say that.”

“Oh, I fuckin’ did.”

“You were always like this, you know that? You get jealous, you get angry, you drink, you cry. You kept thinking I was just going to find someone new.”

“Well, I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Because you pushed me away!”

“Then why are you calling me now?”

“Because I—”

“What?”

“I can’t forget you.”

The room plunged into silence, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioner struggling to keep the room cool. Iwaizumi’s hand shook as he held the phone, his knuckles white from the pressure.

And then, without another word, he hung up. The silence that followed was deafening.

[easypeasylindyvesey]

besties lose.

this team had such an amazing regular season, historic. they set the record for most franchise wins, most comeback wins, got the most points, were at the top of the league, won the president’s trophy.

they swept washington, and got through carolina in six.

all of the matchups they were going into (including florida), they were the underdogs.

this team had EVERYTHING. they had the depth, the goaltending, the scoring ability, the POTENTIAL.

and once again, they throw it all away.

the lack of production from the big names (kreids, mika, bread) is, in all honesty, completely unacceptable. you’re supposed to be helping out the team, contributing equally just like everyone else. you are not supposed to be relying on your goalie for the entire series.

speaking of goalies, igor shesterkin is winning the award for playoff MVP. that man gave it his all. every fucking game, he had to stand on his head. he bought all that matcha just for it to lose its magic, because the 5 guys that are supposed to be in his corner FAILED him. he was the best player by a mile. no one would’ve ever measured up to what he was able to do when his team just gave up.

and now a couple of general things:

-i am very proud of laffy, both regular season and playoffs. he really came into his own. he set a new point record (including goals and assists: reg season). you could tell that he was a lot more comfortable and confident in the way he played. i’m very excited for his future here. it’s definitely bright.

-trouba needs to start playing smarter hockey. i’m surprised he didn’t take any penalties tonight, given it’s a common theme. he’s supposed to be the captain, and he can’t record PIMS every single game. i know that he does a good job with leadership off the ice, but he’s gotta start channeling it on there too.

-when the team hired lavi, i was not sure how it was going to go. despite the sadness of the current moment, he got this team to the ECF. he became apart of history with this team. i’m sure all the casuals are gonna be calling for his firing, but i really hope we keep him. he really did work miracles on the season. he always spoke very highly of everyone, even if they were struggling. he was insightful when he spoke to the media, and you could tell he was truly dedicated and excited to work with them.

-i feel that the new acquisitions (cuylle, wennberg, roslovic, rempe, gustafsson, quickie) did a really great job. they all have their own positive qualities they can bring while they play and should be happy to be apart of such a genuine group of people.

-and finally, i started this account in march because none of my friends watch hockey nor care about it, and i thought ‘why not create an account?’ if i’m being honest, there would be times where i would check some of your accounts for updates because i liked your content LOL. but because i didn’t have an actual account set up when it came to posting things, i was scared to follow y’all because you wouldn’t care if it was just a blank account. all i have to say is that i have no regrets. it’s been almost 3 months, and all of you have been so sweet, supportive, and welcoming. i feel like we’re all one little happy friend group that i always wanted. thank you for engaging with me and my account. i feel like all of you understand me more than my actual friends sometimes🤭. don’t worry, i will definitely be staying active during the off-season! i’m excited for the content we’re gonna get, and if there is anything involving jimmy or ryan, you best believe that i will be posting/reblogging it and annoying all of you because it’s what i do best. i’m very grateful to have shared this experience with you, and i can’t wait for more❤️

ok i lied.

my hopes for the 24-25 season:

1) resigning lindy. he had like 4 SOG tonight, and as a defenseman, i’d consider it a rarity. he might not score much, but he always makes good plays when he needs to, and is always giving up his body for the hell of it. he is the real definition of a warrior, and this is what the team needs.

2) resigning schneider. same thing, he’s been very steady for us all year. he’s still 22, so he continues to grow even more. the team needs him too.

3) i’m impartial about kakko, given his contract is up too. he was kinda invisible. i don’t really know if i’d lose my mind if he did get traded, but we’ll see what drury does.

4) quickie playing more games. i know he’s a backup, so he’s not supposed to play all 82, but for being 38 years old and still having the flexibility and active spirit to play a role like that, it was great to watch him in the regular season.

5) this team continuing to give me heart attacks, strokes, and contemplating my existence throughout each game, and then pulling the win out of their ass. why do i hope for this? because it’s what they did best.

forever & always, LGR❤️💙