*blep*

*blep*

au where after the events of botw, the form of ganondorf & his malice in a last ditch effort to preserve itself - an immortality learned through the ages of its hatred and its diluted godhood in evading the namesake of its origins ( demise ) ━ condenses into an indirect, distant ground. a field turning white in its atrophy, and knowing, knowing its curse. Not ganondorf; but his hatred.

a crystallization of blood and ruin and a thousand years and a thousand more. a toxicity that instead of sludge turns into something beautiful into something not the same. not a growth, but a growing. a field that never dies. a field that never changes. snow does not fall on the grounds in which he infects, perhaps unlike himself, as though a grave. former body a cruel thing to fall back to, an ancient hatred, never enough roots to stretch back to beneath Hyrule Castle

Making what you can with what you have. Eventually something wakes up under that field. Eventually something digs their way out. Eventually something, remembering what it is like to breathe, names himself again. Ganondorf. Bones not his own, a corpse repurposed; he always finds a way.

A secret. A curse.

@starmuscd @gloryseized ━ x

Ah! How unfortunate. it would seem as though both of you need your eyes checked. If nothing else, Akira already has the faux eye-glass frames for such a procedure. :)

Steve, in a way, both did & did not expect Cesare's appearance, the way he always knew where to find him and the way at times, Steve did not want to be found. ━ Cesare was the eternal exception, & for as flighty a creature as Steve was, he would never run from him in sincerity. His presence was almost startling, perhaps, the way it always was, but in equal measures it was comforting to him. A sweet thing. He doesn't think anyone's ever called Cesare sweet, or if they have, nary as sincerely as he.

When Cesare seeks & finds him, short knees tucked in the driver's seat that jolts but quickly, effortlessly relaxes when he realizes who it is ( perhaps fast enough to miss, if Cesare was too occupied with his curiosity ), he'd be fiddling with a silvery contraption, composed of many spoons and forks. Steve pauses his fiddling to look over, eyes squinted slightly at the name he knew was his but was no less jarring, as Cesare talks.

There's a moment of thought, genuine as he taps his chin, as Billi & Penny chatter in the back of the truck. ( 'I mean.. I don't care about Steve having a boyfriend, but you know.. it'd be kind of nice if, uh, they like... removed the cannon from their truck. That's not like.. a weird ask, right..? like.... they have cannonballs.' 'oh yeah, very normal ask, but oh, I don't know, I kind of like it! Gives it a rascals charm, y'know! Ooh, maybe we could ask him to make it a confetti cannon instead! That'd be a good idea!' 'a. zombie themed confetti cannon...?' 'yeah!' )

"... do you know what an underwater kazoo sounds like?"

[ starter @quillheel's steve! ]

💀 — " Babygirl, " [ Cesare drops the name ( a bit too ) casually, emerging from the back of the truck. he plops down into the passenger's seat. ]

" If I went berserkus and had a taste for living flesh, and I tried to eat you, would you squeak like a dog toy? "

"would you like to help with this batch, wally?" she's holding a small recipe book in her wings, turned to a page of various different muffin recipes. "we can do any flavor you want, dear." (from @ohmyfeathers for wally!)

Wally was an almost mousey thing when he wanted to be. A nosy, peeking, small thing, one you could forget about in your own home, frame little enough in comparison to be a minor note in a major score: a song he wasn't part of, sometimes, but liked to watch, and liked to chime in on.

This was, to some extent, his intention today ━ though 'intention' implies a conscious decision, a plan, of which neither did he make. No, this was simply just what Wally did sometimes! peeking in & out of rooms, eternally curious of the little things hidden off in the corners of his vision, ever aware of the things behind his first line of sight. ( anywhere else, it'd be the curtains of a dark stage, but with Poppy, it's different. She makes the world feel no bigger than it is, cozy and right. Wally, unaware of oblivion, just himself in this little loving place, just himself and nothing else at all : Innocence lost turns to innocence sleeping but whole here, where the world is theirs. There's nothing more to this, and he likes that much more than being afraid, how he doesn't know he does at all. )

he'd just been beginning to poke around the edges of the kitchen, as though mind wandering enough to leave the room entirely, when she speaks in a sweet downy voice ( Wally couldn't explain how her voice felt 'downy' or 'dawn-y' or 'cinnamon-y', but it was all of these things to him, in a very kind way. ) that draws him back, gentle yarns tugging ever so softly on his hand, tied to his finger like a balloon's gentler sister.

Wally returns to her side as if only waiting to be called back, perfectly at home here, as he peers at the book held taller than him by sheer virtue of her size in of itself, angled down.

"I would like that." he seems happy to have been given the chance to help at all; of course he is, he loves Poppy! He'd gladly spend time with her any & always "Hmm..."

he thinks for a long moment, big eyes scanning through the ingredients left 'round, occasionally glancing back up at the book. Apple was tempting, and he knew Howdy would like it, but oh ━ he never liked breaking the shape of apples, or eating them at all. Admiring the way an artist admires, the way the skin dappled itself in a shiny-matte sheen and bright, bright color! So he was left to think and think...

after a few moments, he looks up to her with an idea, curious "What's your favorite flavor, Poppy? I'd like to try it. Maybe we could do that."

Replaying Pokemon black and white reminded me why i love these two so much