#in that case all of them are wrong and those games are awful

[leupagus]

For real about the Besties. I feel like people are making a big deal over something super minor. "Oh my god, they released a more lighthearted trailer! Bioware and DA are dead :("

It's almost like the devs want to appeal to more than just diehard fans...

I have such a pet peeve over people making judgements about something before it's been released. Thanks for the warning about this week's Besties ep haha

It's hilarious because Dragon Age has not come out with a new game in TEN YEARS, and none of the first three games have been remastered/rereleased/revamped at ALL, so if you're looking for the original fans of this game...they're all old-ass adults who might not even have consoles/gaming computers anymore! This game will need new fans of all ages, not just the ones who are wildly misremembering the first three. It's bananapants.

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

not enough discussion about the gavins' complicated relationship with feminine-coded/beauty products, i don't think.

[viennacherries]

okay hi sorry i need to talk about the lucanis romance for a moment and why i think it's absolutely perfect. spoilers below the cut ofc

so obviously there are a limited number of romance scenes. i really do believe in the case of lucanis' romance this lends itself to telling his story.

we learn through party banter with him and emmerich that his relationship with rook is his first. and that's not suprising really, he's an assassin. he faces death constantly and aside from the fact that he could die at any moment, being in a relationship gives his enemies a weak spot to exploit. love and the weakness required to accept and give it is a risk he cannot afford in his line of work.

then you add on the fact that he's been in the ossuary for a year. he was definitely sure he was never getting out of there. and then he does but he's possessed.

so here's rook. and they're flirting with him and being all enticing and he thinks they're great. but he doesn't deserve love and he certainly can't risk it. he's an abomination, he'll put them in danger. and what happens afterwards? when he goes back to taking contracts? it only takes pissing off the wrong person once for rook to be in danger. so he mostly just talks around it. tried not to think about it or aknowledge it.

and then spite breaks through for the second time. and there's rook. again. and they're soft and understanding and kind and they remind him that under everything else, all of the trauma and the fear, he's human. they make him feel so safe and he starts to let his walls down.

we can't know for sure why he pulls away in that moment, but i think it's because he reminds himself how dangerous it is for him and for rook. he wants them terribly but it's such an awful no good idea so he drags himself away.

but he still cares for them. he makes them dessert and he keeps them safe and eventually he has to admit to himself that they're not just friends anymore.

and then rook is taken into the fade by solas.

he never tells rook, you only find this out in a bellara romance, but rook is in the fade for weeks.

all that time, lucanis is there and he's just full of regret. because holy shit he's fallen in love with them and now they're gone and he should've just told them. he should've held them like he wanted. because now he can't and he never will again.

and then they're back.

and he comes into their room and his words are so simple.

"i never thought id see you again. i thought id lost you"

and obviously the rest of his dialogue can vary in this scene but all of it is SO weighted if you consider the fact that he really did think they were dead.

"i do. i know how to feel."

"it's one of the things i love about you"

"i'm not going anywhere."

he is in LOVE with them and he's tired of fighting it. he's tired of pretending he isn't. he's tired of denying himself of what he wants because he's scared. because ultimately he did lose them, despite how careful he'd been, and it hurt just the same.

"i know how to feel." because he DOES now.

so in the last battle, before you fight elgernan, he tells you again just how much he loves you. how he'll do anything he needs to to be back in your arms when it's over. because those weeks without you were torture and he never wants to do that again. he wasted all that time terrified to hurt you but you got hurt anyway. why keep pretending? why keep denying himself the person he wants more than anything in the world? he goes from 0-100 because this is so much more real now. there's so much to lose.

"i've assumed you knew my heart because it beats for you. it's been beating... when i wanted you. when i was afraid to want you... tell me this ends with me asleep in your arms and i will kill any god you ask."

this one sentence conveys EVERYTHING. all of his longing throughout the game. how long he has loved rook. he didn't say it because he was afraid. but he's not afraid anymore.

so much of lucanis' romance is about subtext. it's about the things he doesn't say rather than the things he does.

i think it's absolutely beautiful.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

I'm having a shit day, I need Quinn to fix it

Please and thanks

cw: injury description

Rain, rain, go away, come again...when you didn't have a hundred errands to run and were short on time to do them. Naturally, it would pour the entire time you were out and about, and your umbrella had decided to break the first time you went to use it. It really set the tone for the rest of the day; a terrible foreshadowing you had hoped wouldn't be the case.

The only reason you were out running those errands in the first place was because you had taken the day off to make sure everything was nice for when Quinn got back home. You knew he was going to be exhausted after finishing another six straight games on the road. Plus, you wanted to enjoy the evening with him knowing nothing would be looming in the back of your mind that would take away from your time together. However, since the minute you got up it was like everything was stacked against you. You had slept through your alarm, getting up almost two hours later than you had intended. You thought you had plugged in your phone but hadn't make a proper connection so your battery was at 12% to start the day. And to add insult to injury (literally), you had dropped a glass while in the kitchen and had cut your hand while trying to pick up the pieces.

Today was proving to be one of those days that were best spent at home, but unfortunately, that wouldn't be the case for you. By this point, your phone was now sitting at 6%, because you realized, after you had left the parking garage, that the charger you left in your car was in Quinn's. You just hoped it would hold on long enough to get you home.

You would be stopped at a red light, mid rush hour, when a message would ding in. It was Quinn and the dreaded text you didn't want to come across your phone until you were already back at his apartment.

"Hey baby, we just touched down. I'll see you soon. I love you."

"I might not be there when you get home. Stuck in traffic. </3 I love you, too. <3 <3 Also, phone is about dead. >:("

"Just be careful. I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too."

- - -

Getting everything out of the car had been hard enough, but carrying them with your cut palm was the worst. Being half asleep and dealing with broken glass was not a good combination, something you would note for the future. Sure, you couldn't have texted Quinn to see if he would help you, which you knew he would have, but you were determined to get it done yourself.

When you stepped into the elevator, from the parking garage, all you could think of was "please don't break down. I do not want to walk up the stairs. I do not want to be trapped in an elevator with a dead phone." Thinking it was a bad idea to put such thoughts into the Universe, you'd just count floors instead until you reached Quinn's.

It was a struggle to unlock the door but you had managed though your hand was burning and you were pretty sure you were bleeding again. Just something else that would get tended to later. Once inside, you'd drop everything at the door and Quinn would come from the bedroom to greet you.

"Oh sweetheart, why didn't you tell me you were downstairs? I would have helped you with all of this." He wrapped his arms around you and you melt into his body. "I have missed you so much."

"I'm so glad you're home." All of a sudden and without warning, you begin to cry. Likely a culmination of trash sleep, stress, no food, and pain. Your body and emotions were just fried; not to mention you hated when he was gone for so long.

"What's wrong, baby?" Quinn would say softly, gently tightening his hold on you. "Are you alright?" Anytime you were having a rough day, he was the first person to notice and always did everything he could to make you feel better.

"No," you said, hiding your face in his neck. You weren't ready to have him see how much you were struggling.

"Why don't you go sit, hmm? I'll get this."

"I wanted to have everything done for you but today has been awful."

Quinn pulls away from you just enough to tip your chin up towards his face. You can't escape him now and the look on your face makes his puppy eyes heavy with emotion. "Oh, baby~"

He kisses you several times, each one of them sweeter than the last, yet the tears still continue to fall from your cheeks. "Come on, this stuff can wait."

Taking your non-bandaged hand, he ushers you to the sofa where he insists you sit in his lap so you can be as close to him as possible. You loved moments like these just on better circumstances than today had given you.

"Baby, you're bleeding. What happened?"

You had reached up to brush some hair from your eyes when he caught sight of the bandage now tinged bright red in the center. You dropped your hand to your leg and shook your head. "It's nothing. Just a clumsy accident."

"Let me see."

You refuse, sniffling and trying to hold back the welling tears.

"Please?"

Damn those eyes of his; damn the tone of his voice that just took your breath away. You could never truly tell him no and this was no different. You'd turn your palm upwards when you presented it to him, scared it was worse that you thought it was initially.

"May I look at it?"

You just nod, before laying your head against his shoulder. You didn't want to see it and you knew him pulling back the adhesive of the bandage was going to hurt, even though he had the softest touch.

Quinn was always so careful with you; always asking for permission especially if it would potentially cause you pain. Slowly he'd remove the bandage and you would wince against the discomfort even though he did everything he could to make it easy on you. "How did this happen?"

Quinn's tone conveyed deep worry and hurt and that didn't give you the reassurance you were hoping for.

"This morning. I got up late, and was half asleep taking my vitamins and I guess my hand just stopped working and I dropped it. It shattered everywhere. I didn't realize I had grabbed the raw edge until it was too late and I cut myself."

"Oh sweetheart," Quinn whispered laying his head against yours. "Want me to fix you up?"

"I'll get it."

"Please?"

Twice now, he had used that word with (that) tone, and twice now you would fold without another chance to resist. Again, you would silently nod, letting him slip out from under you while he disappeared into the bathroom for a few moments. You remembered how you had left it and it made you feel worse, but when he returned, the only thing that mattered to him was making sure you were alright.

"You said today was awful, how come?" He talked to you while he worked so to keep you from focusing solely on your hand and the pain. Everything he did was so thoughtful.

"I stayed up too late watching The First 48, then I slept through my alarms this morning, so I was two hours behind. I guess I hadn't clicked my charger into my phone fully so it didn't charge. I dropped the glass. I didn't get the apartment cleaned. I didn't get the laundry put away. I forgot my charger was in your car. My umbrella broke." With each added reason for the bad day it made you more emotional to the point that he had to stop cleaning the cut to lay a hand on your leg and try to calm you.

"Shhh, baby, baby, it's okay. None of that matters now. I didn't expect you to be waiting for me at the door. I'm just glad you're here now, but I'm sorry you had such a hard day. The apartment is fine, please, don't worry about it."

"But...I left the bathroom~"

"I don't care about it. Honest. I want you to feel welcome here; I want it to be your home. Home should feel lived in." Quinn leaned forward to kiss you yet you frown. You still felt so bad for everything not being done like you wanted it to be. "If you're here, that's all I want."

"You're so nice," you squeak out, hiding your face with your free hand. You don't realize you were breaking his heart, feeling so bad about missing your self-imposed marks.

"Sweetheart, will you look at me, please?"

Dropping your hand, you let your eyes be exposed though you keep it pressed to your lips.

"You're the only thing I care about when I'm here. If you're okay, I'm okay."

"But I'm not okay."

"And I'm not either. May I finish this for you?" His smile was so sweet, so heartfelt as he held your injured hand in both of his. When you answered "yes, please" Quinn brought it to his lips before finishing what he had started. With each new step of the process, he'd check in with you before continuing. He didn't feel that you had any glass in the wound or that you needed stitches, but he didn't want you to do too much the next few days.

"Alright, babe, all done."

"Thank you."

"Of course. Anything for you," his smile continues. "How about you go change your clothes, get into something comfortable and we'll have a lazy evening in bed. I'll get the groceries put away and we'll order take out. How's that?"

"Do you want some help?"

"No babe, I can get it. It won't take me that long, but thank you. I'll meet you in there, okay?"

"Okay." You give him a kiss as a thank you, later apologizing for your mild breakdown earlier.

"It's alright. You're only human, sweetheart and you had a bad day. I can't say I'd do much better. I'd never judge you for anything like that," Quinn replies, holding your face for another kiss. "I promise."

[astarions-world]

I have been getting so emotional thinking about this scene. I haven’t even reached it in my own play through yet (hopefully soon, I’m just leaving Act 1) but I’ve seen many videos about it and it just makes me emotional every time.

Astarion and Hugs

Larian did such a good job portraying what trauma would be like for someone like Astarion (and with other characters too as well). They had to have consulted a psychologist right? I’m not a psychologist but I just wanted to look at all the little details of this scene that really show you just how hurt Astarion really is.

This is the first scene in which he truly opens up with romanced Tav. He takes off his mask, he gets rid of his “seduction” act and he decides to be vulnerable with you, which is probably scary for him. It’s interesting to me because when he asks to talk to you and you reject him, he’ll break things off with you, which tells you this is very important to him.

He genuinely expresses remorse and guilt for what he did to Tav. He starts it off by saying he “feels awful”. Obviously he’s realizing what he’s been doing is not cool and he feels bad about it and wants to be honest with Tav, because he’s starting to genuinely care about them.

He opens up about how he wants them to be something real but he doesn’t know what real looks like after he spent 200 years faking it. One of the options is to hug him. I love this option.

I mean look at the trauma behind those eyes during the hug. This is a man who has been used and abused for 200 years. He’s so unsure at first. This is a man who has never seen a lick of kindness or love shown to him for 200 years. Who’s to say he even knows what a hug is? When Tav begins to hug him, he’s unsure, confused, and doesn’t know what’s going on.

When he realizes it’s a hug, and that it’s being shown as an act of love and care towards him, and it’s not a gesture meant to hurt him, he returns the hug, still unsure of what to do but feeling reassured that he is loved.

I mean, how sad is that? This man has never had anyone hug him or even express love and care like that for 200 years. It takes a huge toll on a person and it’s very in character for a traumatized person (especially if violence was involved in the trauma, which seems like it was the case for Cazador) to be unsure at first of gestures like hugs. I believe later in the game (correct me if I’m wrong cuz I haven’t gotten that far yet) there are certain scenes where he hugs you and it’s plain to see that he appreciates them more now.

I just wanna jump through the screen and give this man a hug irl during this scene. It’s weird that I’m getting so emotional over pixels on a screen but Neil did such a good job bringing Astarion to life and portraying a man who has been through a lot of “pure shit” in his unlife.

The story of Astarion becoming loved and cared for for the first time in his unlife is so beautiful to me. And he slowly learns to care about someone else too. A lot of people criticize him for being selfish in the beginning of the game and cruel but it makes sense to me. Cruelty is all that was ever shown to him for 200 years, but once he starts to see that people can be kind, he starts being kind to others as well, in the best way he knows how.

Now, excuse me while I go cry over a fictional man.

[cameronspecial]

Really, Rafe?

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Couple Arguments and Angst

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: What is supposed to be a romantic getaway starts to feel like something else when Y/N realizes the type of activities the resort has.

A/N: Inspired by this post (Totally not because Tom Holland liked the post).

Masterlist

One rule in their relationship is that Y/N and Rafe take turns planning dates. Everything from small picnic dates to large vacation dates. This time, it is his turn to plan a vacation. When it comes to holiday trips, it doesn’t have to be far or grand. It could be a small thing, as long as it is a getaway from their normal life for at least two days. The last one they went on was when they both went to a small beach house in Myrtle Beach. Y/N was lucky enough to have found a private rental away from most of the city’s commotion. It was just the ocean, cocktails and the two of them for a week. It was absolute Heaven. As she watches the scenery pass by, Y/N can’t help her excitement as to where they are going. “Can’t you tell me where we are going?” she pleads. Her eyes are as big as dinner plates. He gently squeezes her thigh and throws her a smile, “That’s a secret for me to know and for you to find out.” She giggles with a shake of her head. “That is such a cliche saying.” He shrugs, “So? It still doesn’t mean I am going to tell you.” She gives him a playful pout and continues to look out of the window. 

Ten minutes later, the dense forest turns to equally placed decorative trees and the paved road turns to decorative stones. He parks the car and steps out to open the door for her. She takes in the castle-like resort. The golden trimming and fascia remind the girl of Versailles. She imagines all sorts of things they can do together. Sit by the pool with a drink in hand. Relax thanks to the hands of a masseuse. Dine in fairytale-like restaurants. It takes her breath away, but only for a second because she finally spots the real reason why they are here. To the right of the building are expansive green plains with people of various ages swinging back a club to send the ball flying through the air. Y/N notices Rafe isn’t by her side and turns to find him unloading his golf clubs from the trunk. He packed the trunk, so she didn’t notice it. Disappointment falls over her as it all clicks into place. 

“Really, Rafe?” she disgruntled. Her arms cross over each other and her right hip juts out. He looks at her with a tight-lipped smile, “What? This place has a great high tea evening, which I know you’ve been dying to try. And they have an indoor and outdoor pool that you could take advantage of. Plus, a great spa package for you to try.” This man is really digging his own grave. She lets out a bitter laugh. “You do realize through your whole little spiel, you always said you. Never we, like you expect me to do all those things by myself while you go off and spend all your time with your golf clubs,” she argues. Rafe’s eyes widen, “No, Sugar, you got it all wrong. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, I planned on doing all those things with you. I promise I just brought my clubs in case you got sick of me and I need to give you some space.” She didn’t believe him. Not when a previous experience told her otherwise. It may have been four years ago when they started dating, yet a girl never forgets. Rafe had planned a date at a football bar. It would’ve been fine if his sole reasoning wasn’t to be surrounded by TVs to watch the game. Halfway through the date, other football fans joined their table to watch the event with him. She felt so ignored and unimportant during that hour. She left the date without so much as a goodbye.

She wouldn’t have seen him again if it wasn’t for how apologetic he was. He expressed remorse through his words and then flowers. She eventually forgave him, agreeing to another date. However, she never forgot the way that she felt in that bar. The humiliation of walking away from a man who paid her no attention. Up until today, she never regretted the decision to give him a second chance. Now, she feels the same way. She worries he didn’t listen to her concern about them not being able to spend a lot of quality time with each other because of how busy they have been with work. It’s the reason why they decided to go on this two-week getaway. To reconnect with each other and they couldn’t do that if he planned to spend all his time on the course. “Sure, that’s totally why you did it. If you didn’t want to spend time with me, Rafe, you could’ve told me. I would’ve given you the space and you wouldn’t have had to drag me with you here,” she criticizes, storming into the hotel to calm down.

———

For the past five minutes, she has been cooling herself down in the resort lobby. Rafe has been at the front desk, probably checking into their room. She doesn’t know if she should stay or just call a cab to take her to the nearest train station. She watches as he points in her direction and the receptionist gives him a nod. The woman removes herself from behind the counter, walking over to Y/N with a smile. “Excuse me, Ms. Y/L/N? Could you please follow me to the front desk?” the receptionist, named Kate according to her name tag, asks. Y/N hesitates to nod, yet still obeys the request. Once at the front desk, Y/N keeps her distance from Rafe. Kate types into her computer and turns it toward the female guest, “Mr. Cameron requested I show you all the bookings he made for stay here.” Rafe’s girlfriend stares at him with narrow eyes and he leans in to whisper in her ear. “I didn’t tell her what happened. I just asked her to show you what I booked.” She gives him a small nod, turning her attention toward the screen.  

The list is long, but it is easy to recognize a pattern. Everything is reserved for a couple and not a single one is a tee-time reservation. She couldn’t argue that he had Kate remove his tee times because literally every single minute between nine in the morning and seven in the evening had something planned. She made a horrible mistake and accused Rafe of not caring about her. She turns to him with teary eyes. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you, Rafe,” she apologizes, wrapping her arms around him. He lets her snuggle into his neck and wraps his arms around her waist. His lips rest on her forehead, “It’s okay, Sugar, I know I was really an ass on that date so long ago. I mean I can’t say I’m not hurt that you still think I could still be that idiot, but I am grateful every day that you chose to forgive me. Which means that I have it in my heart to forgive you too. I love you.” She presses her lips against his. “Thank you for forgiving me. I love you too.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[thydungeongal]

So in that one post I mentioned that the idea of defining roleplaying as a set of specific behavioral and gameplay goals (which generally amount to a strong character stance and a focus on narration over procedure) can actually lead to bad game design. By this I don't mean "any game that tries to build mechanics into it that encourage that type of roleplaying will be bad;" instead that this type of idea of roleplaying has developed almost independent of the actual gameplay and rules structure of roleplaying games and is thus a bad fit for most roleplaying games. And as such, simply plugging "rules that encourage roleplaying" without consideration as to what the game's built-in incentives are into a very traditional RPG structure can lead to unfocused design.

Most RPG designers end up, for better and for worse, replicating extremely traditional roleplaying game structures. This is something of a case of fish not being able to recognize they're in water: the most common type of RPG on the market is a challenge-based adventure game. Games where the main language is challenge and with incentive structures built in such a way that the gameplay pretty much should look like "a party of adventurers going into places to solve problems" are so common that people don't really stop to even think about it. (This relates to one of my gripes with many PbtA games: I have often praised both Apocalypse World and Monsterhearts for not being structured like traditional adventure type games, only to then have to lament that most games built on the PbtA framework end up being traditional adventure type games that end up using parts of the technology created by AW)

People end up, essentially, making adventure games because that's most of what they know, and then plugging in "rules to encourage roleplay" onto them. But like, without looking at the gameplay structures and incentives built into a game you might actually end up creating sources of tension. These may not always be bad: sometimes a tension between "what is strictly optimal" and "what is fun" can be fruitful.

As said, most games end up copying the gameplay structure of very traditional RPGs where challenge is the main form of gameplay. These types of games also tend to accept the loss of characters as a valid consequence of play. This is already somewhat unacceptable to many people operating from an understanding of roleplaying as primarily a dramatic exercise. Lack of character continuity can be disruptive to long-form narratives and characters with deep internal narratives. Also, the singular focus on external rewards can also be detrimental to dramatic story-driven play.

But the issue isn't that these games are bad for roleplaying: they're bad for a specific type of roleplaying, but not all roleplaying games share the same creative agenda. This becomes an issue when game designers take what is, at its heart, a game whose primary language is challenge and then try to modify that gameplay structure to "support roleplaying."

D&D is, at its heart, a challenge game, even in our current year of 2025. But largely because the D&D-playing community has rejected a game focused primarily on challenge as being dissatisfactory the result is, at the end of the day, a weird chimera of challenge game with rules that are supposed to weigh the game towards "roleplaying."

Like, the issue isn't that there's anything inherently wrong with D&D's structure. It's just that D&D has adapted to a changing, capricious definition of "roleplaying," and in doing so it has introduced ideas into its system that contradict its challenge game DNA.

None of that is to say that D&D used to be good and then it was failed by its designers. Even as a fan of older editions of D&D I can recognize that even my favorite editions of D&D kind of suck in subtle ways. Part of the challenge of D&D as a challenge game is trying to navigate the challenge of the game itself being kind of bad. You know those types of video games which are kind of buggy but fun so part of the challenge is knowing to play around the unfun and janky parts? That's how playing B/X feels like to me sometimes.

But what I do think is that a D&D that had embraced it being a game that is primarily about would probably be cool as hell. But you know I can only be so salty about modern D&D following a direction where, while still at heart a game about overcoming challenges, D&D has kind of also developed these ideas of being "more than" a challenge game, when there are thousands upon thousands of beautiful trans women (and some other people as well) writing hacks of B/X that make that game even more playable.

Anyway I don't remember what the original point was. Oh, right! You can't just take a challenge game formula and try to plug "mechanics that improve roleplaying" on top of them. If you want to make a game that doesn't want characters to express themselves primarily through overcoming adversity you are better off just starting with a clean slate. What the fuck is this post even about

[littledovesnow]

the sound of snow

request: coriolanus with a girlfriend (wife in this case) who has hearing damange from the war

word count: 2.2k

content warnings: coriolanus being kinda awful in his speech but it's canon sooo, lucky flickerman trying to make a joke (spoiler: it doesn't land well), i think that's it?

a/n: ok i am not d/Deaf/HoH but i do have friends and former classmates who are, and i've done research before writing this. please correct me if i am wrong about anything. i left some things vague (such as hearing loss level), but overall i think it's decent?

also italics are when there's sign language being used :)

also also i had like three title ideas for this but i feel like they're all so bad but i liked this one the best

-----

Coriolanus had first met you back when you were both still wet behind the ears, unsure of how to navigate life after the Dark Days. His family had taken a direct hit when District 13 was no longer, his family’s fortune plundering into the depth unknown. Your family, however, had to face a different setback: a few rather close bomb blasts had stolen a majority of your hearing.

Coming from an affluent family, you were able to afford a private tutor growing up, teaching you and your family sign language, though as you grew old enough you were fit for a hearing aid in the left ear—the only one with enough hearing left to make it worthwhile.

All the while, you and Coriolanus never turned your backs on each other, choosing to let each other in on your trials and tribulations, knowing secrets were safe between the two of you. He had thus learned sign language from being in your home so often, Tigris and the Grandma’am having picked up on some of the more common phrases.

When you were both of age to begin at the Academy, your father fought tooth and nail with the Dean to ensure you were well-equipped with an interpreter when necessary, though you often went without one as you grew tiresome of the stares from your classmates.

During the 10th Annual Hunger Games, you say alongside Coriolanus as you two watched the tributes battle for victory, both celebrating when Lucy Gray was crowned the victor, both unaware of what fate waited your boyfriend the following day.

His stint in District 12 was something you two rarely spoke on, choosing to forget those few disastrous months while you were separated, you back in the Capitol studying at University while Coriolanus learned the hard way what it meant to be a Peacekeeper, to learn what it feels like to betray a friend, to learn what true power felt like.

Dr. Gaul had spoken to you prior to calling Coriolanus back to the Capitol, wanting your input if he would be a considerable candidate for her Gamemaker Apprenticeship, to which you informed her it was one of the biggest honors he would have wished for. Thus, Coriolanus was recalled back to the Capitol, back to you, where he stood alongside Dr. Gaul to prepare for years of Hunger Games, eventually landing as a true Gamemaker as Dr. Gaul began to take steps back in preparation for her retirement.

One day, however, Coriolanus had told her he was interested in becoming Panem’s next president, with Felix Ravinstill gone and no other heirs of the title, an election would take place. It was no surprise to the Head Gamemaker when the blonde brought the idea up, having seen him yearn and hunger for the coveted presidential position since he was fresh out of the Academy.

It came as no shock when he was announced at the Panem’s next president, you alongside of him as the First Lady. The country never knew what would become of the young couple, stars and revenge in their eyes.

-----

Coriolanus knew where he could find you once he returned from the Citadel, having met with Dr. Gaul for the upcoming 25th Hunger Games. He wanted them to be more of a spectacle than usual, to commemorate the quarter century since the end of the war.

He ignored the Avox who had opened the door to the private wing of the mansion, ignored the Avox who had his usual glass of whiskey waiting on a silver platter.

Opening the door to the greenhouse, Coriolanus’ eyes lit up as he saw you carefully pruning the rose bush planted in memorial of the Grandma’am. “Love?”

You looked up, and Coriolanus smiled when he realized your hearing aid was still in. You usually chose not to wear it while at home, preferring the comfortable silence from time to time.

“How was your day?” He asked, helping you untie the gardening smock you wore to protect the clothing underneath.

“It was fine, uneventful.” You replied, looking at the garden around the two of you. “How was Volumnia?”

Coriolanus was still gobsmacked that Dr. Gaul allowed his wife to call her by her first name, only a select few Capitol citizens were granted that honor, though he was one of them.

“She misses you, asked that you stop by sometime for lunch.” Coriolanus mused, plucking a rose out of the bunch in the vase. “Maybe you can help her come up with some new strategies for The Games, she loved your idea of stocking some food in the middle.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, not expecting the silly idea of arming the tributes with food to be such a hit in the Captiol. Betting had been at an all-time high for the tributes who had been able to get their hands on the stale, tasteless protein bars.

“I’ll see if she’s available on Thursday.” You knew the mad scientist would make room any day to meet with you. She had a soft spot for you, no one was quite sure why.

“You can ask her this evening, since we have that awful gala to start preparing for The Games.”

You looked at your husband, clearly forgetting about the gala. “I forgot that was tonight. I wouldn’t have pruned the roses if I had known.”

Coriolanus, who was cold-hearted and strict in public, simply waved off the nonissue. “You wore gloves, a smock, you look as beautiful as ever.”

You pressed your lips to his, disappearing to the bathroom for a shower prior to getting ready.

-----

 Attending Capitol galas and evening events as First Lady of Panem was something you weren’t sure you would ever get used to. Cameras flashing, various news outlets trying to get a snippet of you and Coriolanus talking, microphones in your faces.

Not that they would get anything, as Coriolanus was only going to give hints at his next political plans, life events, anything really, to Lucky Flickerman, who he had become rather close with following his mentorship in the Academy.

“D’you want anything to drink?” Coriolanus asked, lips brushing on the shell of your left ear.

Nodding, you two moved over to the bar for a couple glasses of posca before starting the endless circle of meeting politicians, thanking Capitol elites for their support, and the nagging question of when you two would start a family.

You had eventually been able to break free from the conversation you and Coriolanus were stuck in when Lucky Flickerman himself took the spot in behind the podium, preparing to start the night’s speeches.

Taking your seats, you felt Coriolanus place his arm on the back of your chair, hand brushing up and down the back your right bicep, goosebumps breaking out in the area.

As Lucky began his speech, you moved closer to your husband, whispering in his ear, “I can’t understand what he’s saying.”

Coriolanus looked back at you, noticing the missing hearing aid, eyebrow raised.

“I forgot to put it back in after my shower.”

Without missing a beat, Coriolanus shifted in his seat and began to interpret the speeches for you, ignoring the not-so-subtle looks you two were getting, mainly from newer guests who weren’t used to seeing the president use sign language.

At the conclusion of Lucky’s speech, a Capitol employee scuttled over to the First Couple.

“President Snow, we can have an Avox translate if you’d like.”

Frowning, Coriolanus shook his head. “That’s alright, I can interpret for my wife.”

The employee didn’t seem to expect that response, simply blinking at the couple.

“Is that a problem?” Coriolanus asked, ignoring your hand on his knee.

“N-no, not at all. I just- you’re expected to make a speech tonight, too.” The employee tried to backpedal, not wanting to ruin his career tonight.

You chose this moment to speak up, not wanting Coriolanus to overreact. “It’s fine, Coryo’s quite apt at making sure I know what’s going on. Why don’t you be a dear and get me a glass of wine?”

The employee was quick to leave the conversation, and Coriolanus looked at you. “You’re too kind to them.”

Shrugging, you took the full glass without so much as a glance in the employee’s direction. “Someone has to be.”

Coriolanus let out an airy laugh as he stood up, dusting off some nonexistent crumbs from his burgundy suit. He squeezed your arm before departing from your side, taking his place where Lucky Flickerman had left open, the weatherman-turned-host made sure to give his hand a shake as they exchanged pleasantries.

 Giving everyone a moment to settle down, Coriolanus cleared his throat before beginning, shocking nearly everyone in the room as he used both his voice and hands to conduct the speech.

“The Twenty-Fifth Hunger Games are right around the corner, so I thought I would give you all a twist I’m putting into the Reaping ceremony this year, and potentially the following Reapings. Dr. Gaul and I have had numerous discussions about how tributes are elected, and from prior games being rigged, we have initiated a couple updates to the ceremony and process.”

You were curious of the updates Coriolanus was talking about, unaware he was still dipping his toes into Gamemaking.

“Rather than each District’s mayor or elected spokesperson calling the names, we will have someone from the Capitol pull names. It will eliminate the possibility for rigging the tributes. In addition, who really wants to watch groups of children kill each other? With Reaping eligibility starting at age twelve, the Gamemakers and I have decided to increase the number of entries one gets as they age. When they reach the age of eighteen, each possible tribute will be entered into the Reaping six times.”

You weren’t able to hear everyone’s whispers, but you could see them looking at each other, taking in the news.

Coriolanus concluded his speech by introducing Dr. Gaul’s assistant, as the Head Gamemaker had something come up rendering her unable to attend the gala.

When he returned to your side, you looked him up and down. “Some updates, huh? Whose idea were they?”

Coriolanus had a smirk on his face, simply bringing his glass of posca to his lips.

-----

After all of the speeches were finished, some music began to play, letting the now tipsy and drunk Capitol elite take the dancefloor with eager steps.

Lucky Flickerman meandered over to where you and Coriolanus were still seated, discussing what Tigris deserved for her upcoming birthday.

“Not going to share a dance tonight?” He asked, looking between the two of you.

“Oh, Lucky, you should now, we don’t really dance. Only for the most special of occasions.” Coriolanus smiled, twisting the wedding band around his finger.

You wore a matching smile, though your reply wasn’t quite what Lucky expected. “And besides, Lucky, I’m not the best dancer if I can’t hear the music. You should have seen the first time we tried to dance together in the Academy.”  

The mustached man opened his mouth like he was going to reply, but nothing came out except for a chuckle.

Coriolanus hid his smile behind the glass of water he had switched to, not able to tolerate the posca and wine like he had before.

It was one of his favorite moments after you two had officially started dating. The Academy had their annual prom, though it tended to be more of a fashion show than dance, as many students arrived in extravagant outfits that were ill-suited for dancing.

You had been in a sparking silver dress, heels a gift from your mother, red-tinted lips dropping when Coriolanus asked you to dance with him.

It had been enough missteps to last a lifetime, but the two of you took it in stride, promising each other to get a proper dance instructor before your first dance at the wedding years later.

“I do hate to break up the fond memory, honey, but we should be heading out.”

Coriolanus downed the rest of his water before standing, lending you his arm as you two bid goodnight to your friends and Coriolanus’ closest colleagues, before disappearing from the gala.

-----

You walked out of the bathroom from taking your makeup off to see Coriolanus sitting on the bed, sheets pulled back for your arrival.

“Who are you thinking will be the Capitol’s representative for the Reaping?” You asked, mind still going back to the Reaping updates.

Coriolanus closed the book he was reading, eyes looking you up and down as you climbed into the bed. “I don’t know yet. Why, do you have anyone in mind?”

You shrugged, pulling the sheets up to your chest, yawn escaping your lips. “No one in particular, but I’m sure I could come up with some names.”

Coriolanus laughed, setting his book on the nightstand next to him. “We can talk about it when you’re not going to fall asleep in mere minutes. Goodnight, love.”

“Mm, ‘night, Coryo.” You whispered, letting Coriolanus’ soft breathing and the distant sounds of sirens lull you to sleep.

-----

a/n: hey was this good should i do more in this universe let me know

[dollivue]

my thoughts on bda 6

beware that im not someone who usually has super outstanding analyses or theorizes very often BUT i wanted to get my thoughts out since we're right at the tail end of tetro pink:

based on what we know from the investigation and the states of the remaining cast, i don't see this being anything other than a sacrificial suicide. as of right now, it simply doesn't make any sense to me that any of the other students would go after or be able to overpower HAYASHI MAI of all people. sure, she wasn't in the best state due to loyalty game, but i still think she would have a lot of fight left in her.

after going through the body investigation, it sounds to me like hayashi stabbed herself. the reason for her being in the actual pool itself is pretty vague. "Look at her hands... They're all cut up." "Do you think she fought back?... But it doesn't exactly look messy." depending on how the cuts looks, it's likely they come from hayashi's hands slipping - it's quite common in murder cases when a killer stabs their victim multiple times that their hand ends up slipping and gets cut on the blade due to the amount of blood. if i had to guess? maybe the length of the sword or some type of liquid like water caused her hand to slip.

since hayashi is the one who took inventory of all the supplies in the arsenal, it wouldn't be a far fetched idea to believe that she used that knowledge to her advantage in order to supply herself with a weapon (likely a sword, considering there is an exit wound on her back) and use bombs in order to A. deter the students from specific rooms due to there being no evidence, or B. using them to put more emphasis on certain rooms she wants them to investigate.

wada masanari — he... quite literally didn't have access to the basement where hayashi's body was found. he's also been incredibly weak and sick, not having eaten in DAYS. there's also a vast weight and height difference; wada being 154cm, 73.4lb and hayashi being 198cm. even in her wounded state, she could easily overpower wada if he tried to attack her.

taking suspicion off the students:

yanagi shigeki — the NUMBER ONE person who cared for hayashi, literally confessing his love for her MULTIPLE TIMES just hours before she died. he's also one of the two who were trapped in medbay all night, rendering it practically impossible for him to touch hayashi.

hasegawa ken — again, trapped in medbay all night. if i ABSOLUTELY HAD to, gun to my head, pick a student who killed hayashi, i would pick ken simply because i also think he was the one leaving those notes to hayashi and setting the door traps. don't necessarily have any evidence for this one, just a hunch.

tamba ruiko — someone who was also quite close with hayashi, often seen with her ever since chapter 1. it would be incredibly difficult for her to attack hayashi, let alone kill her due to her broken leg and need crutches.

ojima takeshi — this guy has been drunk the last 2-3 days. while there have been instances where he harms himself or others while spaced out (picking at his stitches, grabbing ken's arm), i seriously don't think he would full on kill someone while drunk or spaced out. it seems like too far-fetched of an idea that von wouldn't ever include in her writing

hiroaki nakamigawa — THIS GUY has been high and sick. he's been feeling absolutely god awful the past few days, and has also made it incredibly obvious that he can't stand being near anything gorey or gross.

however, at the end of the day i could be completely wrong about everything and look like a fool after next week's trial LMAO. either my thought will change during the trial or i'll be deadset on this theory 🤷‍♀️

[love-toxin]

Cattle -> Harley Kunuk

plot: a world in which the realm of monsters & yanderes has merged--that's the au you find yourself in as a low-producing cow hybrid. you've never impressed any master as working cattle, always cast aside in favour of prettier, more talented cows. that might change once you get dropped off at the wrong farmer's ranch.

(cws: fem!cow hybrid!reader, chubby+naive reader, yandere themes, explicit smut, lactation, fondling, dry-humping, chest worship, dirty talk/soft degradation, clothed sex/cumming in pants, kinda monsterfucking, power dynamics, reader refers to him as 'Mr. Harley')

a/n: welcome to the long-awaited 'harley x cow hybrid reader' saga LOL

wc: 4.7k (art by milove @the-zipper !! <3)

If not for the grace of the gods, you'd surely be thrown into the ditch or to the wolves by now.

The transition between seedy motels has never been easy, sure, but you've reached new lows since your last rancher kicked you to the curb. Besides, nor has having to deal with the treatment from your superiors been easy when most of them see you as nothing but what your brand reads out.

Cattle.

If farm hybrids have anything, it isn't rights–at least not for undesirables like you. There's probably places out there like Runerhéa where you could live in peace, but this new world is even tougher than the last. When the realms merged as one, everyone on the lower side like you thought it would turn out to be a blessing. Maybe you'd finally get a break and wouldn't have to live like a piece of meat. But so far, it's only been a curse.

Ever since you were passed into the hands of these “livestock traders” your life has been absolute hell. Your last master had at least left you be most of the time, preferring to pay attention to his other, better-producing and prettier cattle rather than get on your case for this or that. These guys that have been toting you around since then have been complete nightmares to deal with–they're callous and cruel and they never let you rest properly, they keep you up all hours of the night with their hollering and drinking and gambling on those awful card games.

Yet, even when you were told that your time with them would be coming to an end, you weren't excited about it. Not one bit. How could you be, when you've been surrounded by horrible people saying such horrible things about your abilities? They've called you “moon-face” and mocked your pitiful history as working cattle, to the point that they've joked about re-branding you and making you a sex toy or something instead, because that's probably all you're good for. You can't even moo right, much less make any milk that doesn't taste sour or curdle within minutes. You're totally useless, and whoever your new owner is, he's quickly going to come to that realization too. Your handlers have been quick to remind you of that, just in case you happen to pick up some worth in yourself on the way there.

That's all you've thought for the past three days since you've been here, too scared to come out from the back of your stall for fear that the big, scary farmer with the loud voice is going to yell at you for not turning out to be what he hoped. You heard him arguing with the traders when you were delivered: ”What the hell is this?! I bought a cow, not some girl! Is this a joke? Did Elias put you up to this?” and since then you've cowered in the corner, refusing even to touch the water and food he brought and left at the door for fear he might just poison you to save the trouble of bringing you back. You've never been kept with real farm animals before, yet even now there's not much interaction you have with them. The big guy put you in a stall far away from his other animals, probably because he thinks you might infect them or something. It's always something with you.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. You've been hearing those noises from outside for the last two days, the sounds of wood scraping and hammering pervading your fuzzy ears and filling your mind with all manner of horrors that might await you. Is he building some kind of horrible torture machine? A rack? A device to forcibly milk you? Oh, that thought sends a chill down your spine. Or is he simply building your coffin? It could be any one of those possibilities or many, many more horrible ones, and it leaves you to tug your floppy ears down and try to block out the noise as you cry softly. I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die, even if I'm bad at being a cow. I just wanna live another day.

You pull the scratchy woolen blanket he left in here closer around your shoulders, hoping and praying with your head bowed that this won't be the end. With the clunk of the barn's door sliding open, with every step you hear thudding closer and closer towards your stall, you tremble harder and hurriedly wipe your tears dry while you pray to the Deity to shelter you from an early grave.

Kh-chunk. The clasp on your stall comes undone from the other side, and with bated breath, you watch as the door rolls open and lets in the streams of light you'd forgotten existed in this endless darkness.

“...Oh.” The farmer utters his surprise softly, his brow easing up as he looks you over. He's perched at the entrance to your stall still, not quite ready to cross the threshold yet. Maybe he's still trying to prepare himself as he sizes you up for the slaughterhouse. “You look…cold.”

You shake your head meekly and throw off the blanket. Straws of hay flutter about your knees as you do so, some of it already stuck in your hair and your meager clothes that don't cover enough for him not to blush and avert his gaze. “Uh…c'mon. We need to move you somewhere else.” He meekly produces a harness from his overalls, but it sits lightly in his hand like he's not really keen on using it. “It'll be safe. C'mon.”

If you weren't a lowly, domestic cow hybrid, one of the very lowest of the monster hybrid species, you'd be tempted to ask if he's always this awkward. He can't even look at you, he barely even breathes once you finally stand and skirt past him out of the stall. And he doesn't dare to touch you as he leads you out of the barn even though you're his property–it's like he doesn't even see you as cattle, but as…you don't even know what.

At the very least, despite the uncertainty around your new home, the first deep breath of fresh air as you step outside reminds you of the home you knew in childhood. Rolling grass in a sea of green, woods out across the field that are far from predators, safe fences and even a big, old farmhouse on the lawn that gives you a sense of homey nostalgia. As big and scary as he looks, maybe he's not so bad after all…maybe, as long as you do everything to appeal to him, he might treat you like nice cattle and not the nuisance you've long been defined as.

As you step out onto the grounds, the farmer introduces himself as Harley. He waits while you sniff around the fresh, clean air a bit before leading you around the side of the barn–that's where a small, shed-like attachment has been built on to the side of the structure, which opens into a surprisingly comfy and spacious area that he must have put together in a hurry. The floorboards have a nice rug over them and there's a soft, downy mattress in the corner on a little frame, and it's all built in and warm like it's an actual room. But when you turn to Harley with a quizzical look on your face and he tells you it's yours, you don't even know how to respond. So you just look at him blankly.

“It's…yours, y'know? It's, uh, like your…bedroom, I guess.” He looks around the space and rubs the back of his sweaty neck, seemingly sheepish about the simple construction even though you're standing there dumbfounded. “I didn't think you'd wanna live in the barn with the animals, but, uh, you wouldn't come in the house. So…yeah.” The silence between you is agony up until he just huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Listen, this isn't ideal for me. I don't deal well with people, and you're…sort of one, I guess. To be honest, I hate the idea of sharing my farm with some stranger.” He sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair, incidentally messing up his long ponytail that's just barely keeping all that thick hair tied up. With his hands set on his hips, he looks you dead in the eyes in a way that makes you cower at his sternness. “But you're here now, so whatever. Just behave yourself–and if some guy in a cowboy hat comes around, make yourself scarce. I don't want him messing with my-” He catches himself, but in your bovine wisdom you finish his sentence for him.

“Cattle?”

Harley swallows dryly and nods. “...Cattle. Yeah.” In any case despite the awkwardness and the tense air between you, he shows you how to work the little water pump he built the shed around so you can wash up and drink, your bed and blankets, and where to use the bathroom–which he insists you do inside the house, for no reason that he elaborates on other than the fact that you're able to, so you should. With that he leaves you be, letting you sit and ponder this newfound haven that he so casually dropped in your lap.

By the third day in your little mock cabin, six days since you've arrived here, you're pretty sure you've fallen in love with Mr. Harley. He won't tolerate you calling him ‘Master’ because it makes him all red in the face when you say it, so despite him insisting on no formalities at all you've settled on referring to him as ‘Mr.’ Harley.

It's been an easy process to say the least. Mr. Harley is gruff and speaks bluntly, but he never lays a hand on you and has never called you any mean names. He feeds you more often than he does his other animals, and despite getting annoyed and scolding you if you don't eat like you didn't the first three days, he's always gentle and doesn't yell or kick things over when he's mad. Plus, he treats his other farm animals real nice–you've heard him cooing and calling them by their names when he pets them, and most of them come running or perk their ears up when they hear his voice from far away. One of the chickens even tried to peck you when Mr. Harley was showing you around, and had his hand on your arm as he showed you how to feed them. They love him so much they even get jealous, and it's easy to see why. Mr. Harley is so caring and kind-hearted. He's got pretty brown eyes and such a low, deep voice, and big muscles, and soft hair, he's more handsome than any other master or trader you've come across in your whole life. It's no wonder you've fallen in love with Mr. Harley.

Where it's becoming an issue, however, is with your milk.

The first little while you were here, Mr. Harley didn't even make a mention about your production. There wasn't any bucket around for you to show him anyways, so you've been sitting around letting the milk build up and up and up until you're sore and swollen. The only reason you're sat in your shed with a bucket in your lap now is because Mr. Harley noticed your discomfort (because he's such a nice and caring farmer…) but, with you being too worried about your quality and Mr. Harley being too red-faced to stick around and watch, you're coming up on the end of the day without a drop to show for it. If you don't give him anything, he'll think you're a disobedient cow! But if you squeeze out your milk and it tastes sour, or makes him sick…oh, you couldn't bear to think of making Mr. Harley hate you with the taste of your milk. It's quite the dilemma that you have no easy way of getting out of, so you do what's likely the better option: you milk out just enough to make the swelling go down, but not so much that the taste will be too strong if it's bad.

But even with your clever thinking, your knees shake as you perch on your bed and listen to the big, thudding footsteps of Mr. Harley coming towards the shed. The moment the door slides open you spring into action, and pick up the bucket a quarter full of milk to hand to him, hoping beyond hope that he won't be upset over how little there is.

“..Huh.” After he jolts slightly at your sudden movement toward him, Harley glances down at the bucket and back up at you as he takes it gingerly, peering down at the milk as if it's some sort of magic that you've managed to fill it even as little as you did. He raises his hand and your instincts force you to flinch, your eyes squeezing shut as you anticipate a hit or something equally awful. But the moment passes because Mr. Harley pats your head instead, stroking your hair and your fuzzy ears gently before hiking up the bucket to grab and hold it by the handle. “Good girl.”

Good girl? Are those words for real? Was that…praise? And so easily given, at that?

You're practically on your knees by the time he steps out of the shed, they're so wobbly and weak, but before he can make it outside he halts and turns back to you. “So…” He lingers at the doorway, the bucket hanging from his closed fist. “...Where does your milk come from, exactly?”

Oh. That's…hard to explain. You had a sense that Mr. Harley already knew, but then again he owns farm animals, not hybrids. So you meekly point at your own chest in answer, and Harley's reaction takes you by complete surprise.

“...You're shitting me.” He breathes out in what comes off as disgust, but is really shamefaced embarrassment as he tries to avert his eyes but can't tear his gaze off of your…well, udders. It was obvious that they were impressive, but he clearly wasn't expecting such a blunt and simple answer. Harley clears his throat and tries to get something out, but sooner than he's able to he gives up and just wishes you a good sleep as he shuts the sliding door behind him.

The rest of that night is full of whimpers and soft cries throughout the shed as you weep out all your worries. Mr. Harley doesn't like me anymore! He thinks I'm gross! You sniffle into your tear-drenched pillow as the thoughts grow so loud in your head that they overwhelm you. In time, you cry yourself so dry that you can't help but drift off, your sleep peppered with bad memories and anxious nightmares of what Mr. Harley might do with you tomorrow, now that he's seen how worthless and disgusting you really are.

Though by now you're used to the rooster's screeching to wake you up, your morning is riddled with half-awake mumbles and drool caking your pillow as you try to remember what you were doing. It's not until you rub your eyes and look around that you notice the light filling the shed, and realize with a cold twist in your belly that it's almost midday and well past the time you should've been up and about. The sounds of Mr. Harley's boots in the barn next door rattle you out of your covers and up to your feet, your knees knocking and hands shaking as you try to figure out what to do.

Mr. Harley always comes by your shed to check on you after he's done with the animals, and by the whinnying of the horses as he sprays the hose you can tell he's just about finished up with filling their water trough. And if that's what he's up to now, that means you're next–and gods know what he's gonna do now that he doesn't think you're cute anymore! You're not sure now if he would kill you, or chop you up to sell your bits in some underground meat market, but he might give you back to the traders! You can't let that happen, you can't!

Little do you know that while you've bustled around your shed in a panic trying to figure out what to do, Harley has been pacing anxiously outside the barn doors before finally slamming them shut and heading towards you. Each step rings out like thunder. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump-

The door to your shed slides open, eliciting a startled shriek from your lips as you drop the bucket. It clatters to the ground and rolls to a stop just by Mr. Harley's boot. The two of you lock eyes and he utters a string of words that totally throw you for a loop.

“You had trouble getting your milk out yesterday, so I'm gonna help you.”

The air that hangs between you is heavy once he says that, pierced only by the gentle clinking of the bucket's thin wire handle as he reaches down and plucks it up off the hay-scattered ground. Harley rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, his steps taken slow and quietly as he slides the door shut behind him and approaches your skittish self.

“You want me to help you?” His voice remains stoic and strong, but when you nod so meekly that your ears twitch his face burns a bright red all the way down to his collar. He coughs into his hand and asks you to move into a comfortable position while he stands awkwardly and prepares himself for what's about to come. You can barely make eyes with him in the meanwhile, every bit of you is trembling as you sink down to your knees.

Mr. Harley sets the bucket down beneath you. The soft, almost imperceptible thunk rings in your ears like a dinner bell. A thought flashes over your head and you wonder if you should get on your hands and knees–but the shame of such a position quickly overcomes whatever else would compel you to do so, and you sit quietly and patiently with your ears flicking nervously in rhythm with your tail. He gets down on one knee and mutters something in your ear to soothe you, but you can barely hear anything over your own breathing as you try to will your heart into slowing down from its fervent pace. When he asks you to pull down your top, however, you certainly hear that command loud and clear.

The moment the fabric swishes down your chest in one clean motion, Harley has a look of utter redness and embarrassment all over his face. He's a bit more composed than yesterday, but he can barely tear his eyes away from them; your udders. They're so soft and weigh so heavy on your torso, it's a surprise you can even lift them up yourself. That's what he thinks, anyways–you can't even comprehend his awe when you're so self-conscious over your nipples pebbling in the drafty air. Your fingernails scrape against each other in a nervous tic while you wait. He has to get prepared, and he warms his hands by rubbing them together; the very action of which sends heat straight to your nethers and a twitch to your soft, fuzzy ears.

“M-My milk doesn't taste good…” You whimper to distracted ears, but still, Mr. Harley holds his hands back from reaching out and he meets your eyes in contemplation. Your worries explode out of you before you can halt yourself. “B-But I'll–I'll try really hard to make it sweet, Mr. Harley!”

To your shock, he just shakes his head. He scoffs, but then–then it's a chuckle. It's laughter, low and gravelly, but it's laughter all the same.

“You taste good.” Mr. Harley murmurs, and his eyes don't look at all daunted. He doesn't correct himself, either. He leans closer, reaches out, and then the callused pads of his hardworking fingers are brushing under the tender skin of your breasts.

The moment is…saccharine. It's divine. It's godlike! You can't see, can't hear, can barely breathe, and you've never felt more exuberance bubbling up in the back of your throat–you want to scream and cry and beg but the emotions jumble themselves all together and leave you stunned silent. You can hardly let out the gentlest exhale of disbelieving breath as Mr. Harley's hands fold over your chest, and you feel a warmth you thought was only reserved for cows of a much better pedigree than you. The man that's bigger and stronger and sweeter than you shuffles in closer, he wants his lips right against your skin; he wants to taste you and touch you while he gives you a squeeze, and when his tongue flicks out to dab the sweat off your neck you could just cry, it feels so exhilarating.

“M-Mr. Harley-” You gulp, your tone betraying your enjoyment in how it trembles with desperate need. Harley's hands start pressing and pulling on each teat, and in no time at all he's coaxing the milk from you as easily as he would his own dairy cows. No mess, no fuss, and no tears–not ones devoid of joy, anyways. You can't help your own instincts in this moment of pure, primal hybrid heat. “I-I love you, Mr. Harley.”

His head raises and tilts down to look at you. He doesn't even have to look to make sure he's getting it all in the bucket, he's so experienced. Something seems to brew behind those dark, cocoa-coloured eyes…and his words stir up the heat within you like a potent, bubbling love potion.

“I'm so fuckin’ glad they got you mixed up.”

With that admission of very Harley-like affection, he buries his tongue in your mouth and presses your lips firmly together in a wet, forceful kiss.

A kiss! From Mr. Harley! Your tail flicks to and fro with happiness while you're melting into it, into the softness and the strength of his tongue and the sticky wetness of your spit mixing with his. You've never been kissed like this, and when he pulls back you just have to lean in for more. He can barely stifle his lustful chuckles when you keep pecking his lips like a touch-starved harpy, hoping for more tongue and spit and warmth. He squeezes your left teat especially firm and a thick jet of milk spurts out, leaving you to hunch forward suddenly as a wet spot starts forming in the seat of your poor panties. Harley's slanted nose is the only thing keeping you up; he nuzzles it under your chin when your body threatens to pitch forward into the hard ground.

“So close.” He murmurs into your mouth as he seals his lips over yours again. His hair is mussed and he's blushing…a lot. “Almost there. Such a good product today. Nearly filled the whole pail. Good girl.” He whispers against your cheek as you try not to feel the delicate rumbles of his voice in your cunt. With a swish of movement, Mr. Harley maneuvers around your trembling body to slot himself up behind you, and lets his hands reach around you just so his thick, muscly biceps will keep you upright through to the end.

“M-Mr. Harley…I think I'm…I-I dunno, I feel-ah! Ah, weird. G-Good weird..” What feels like a brick presses up against your rear in that moment–you have a feeling you know exactly what it is.

“Yeah?” He scoffs with a thrilled smirk against your neck. “Dirty fuckin’ dairy cow. That's what you are, huh?”

“Y-Yes-!” You squeal, but whether that's an answer to his question or simply the reaction he's caused by bucking against you with a groan, it remains to be seen. Either way Mr. Harley is enjoying himself, and it floods your bovine head with vindicated glee that your master enjoys you. You're doing a good job. You're a good cow.

“Good fuckin’ cow,” Harley growls, completely lost in the softness between your thighs and the sweet warmth of your tits weighing heavy and milk-swollen in his hands. Your legs shake against his thick thighs as he pulls you back to practically sit on his lap, held up by the monster straining at his pants, begging to be let out. You've already left a soiled, sticky spot there through your clothes but Harley won't take any apologies–not right now, at least, when your milk is flowing at its peak and he's just about to lose his self-control completely…if he even had any left from the moment he held your soft, chubby body in his hands. A splash of milk jets from your swollen tits and splatters against the side of the pail rather than inside it, and with that you don't need to see Mr. Harley's face to know that he's reaching his end; in fact, he's already there.

A string of “fuck, fuck, fuck!”s erupts from his mouth that he buries in the juncture of your neck and your shoulder, his teeth not only grazing now but biting down hard into your sweat-soaked skin. The spot you'd left on his jeans is nothing compared to the damp mess he makes as his thighs shake beneath yours, his hips ruthless and powerful as he slams them up into you with the desire of chasing that invaluable heat between your legs. You've barely held back from spasming in pleasure this whole time, but once Mr. Harley has his needs sated is when you finally allow yourself to give in to yours. Groans, panting, and soft mooing resonate within the homey little room that you've incidentally turned into a den of pleasure. Mr. Harley finally slumps back with his arms tucked tightly around your middle, and a wobbly, satisfied smile makes its way across your face as you look down and see a pail full of warm, creamy-looking milk. A few spots and tiny puddles litter the hay-covered ground around it from where you spilled, and some still soaks Harley's massive hands, but you still managed to fill it–a whole bucket!

“I did…a good job, Mr. Harley?” You ask in such a sweet, timid voice that he can only manage a breathless scoff in response.

“You think you did a good job?” He asks, but not understanding his tone, you start to fuss and squirm in fear that you've disappointed him. It's only once he manages to wrangle you against his chest and pick you up off your feet with him that he manages to calm you down.

“Relax, little one. You did a good job.” Careful not to let you lose balance, he sets you down on your feet and holds you there, steadying you against his effortlessly strong body. The moment you look up at him with those sweet, wet cow eyes, he can't resist his affections and lovingly strokes your ears. “Very good. You're a good cow. Look at all the milk you made,” He reaches past you to pick up the pail and hold it out for you to see. The glistening milk swishes with the heft of the bucket, so he steps away and ensures he sets it aside amongst the empty ones to keep it from spilling over.

“So…c-can I stay, Mr. Harley?”

It seems your voice does more than earn you an answer from him–Harley whips around to look at you with a dumbfounded expression on his face, and his reaction is more than you ever could have thought you deserved.

“Stay? What d'ya mean, ‘stay’? You're part of the farm. You're my family now. You're not going anywhere.” He reaches out for you and in that moment it takes for him to get to you, the tears are already flowing and you're blubbering pathetically into his chest with gratitude, which he seems much less awkward in accepting now.

“Hey–quit sayin’ such stupid shit. Stay…are you crazy?” He murmurs into your hair, his arms so tight around you you're reminded of the soreness of your hollow chest as your tits press up against his firm body. What he whispers to you then, in the silence peppered only by your weepy cries of adoration and love for your ‘Mr. Harley’, is the one thing that will stay with you for a long, long time–perhaps for the rest of your life.

“Not just cattle anymore, little one. You're…mine.”

[veryace-ficrecs]

Young Justice Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Big girls don't cry by siren_of_the_ocean - Rated G

For Bart Allen, it's a random weekday in the middle of a random year. For Tim Drake, it's the day after his birthday and his whole world had just fallen apart.

Rest and Relaxation Post-Mission by Cherry_Sofa_729 - Rated T

After a mission that leaves everyone in safe condition but exhausted, all of Young Justice decides a little R & R is in order. Granted, when you’re young, together without any supervision, all dating each other, and a bunch of superheroes, a chill night in looks a little different

Dick needs to learn to stop listening when young justice starts talking by allmywritings - Rated T

Dick wished he could stop overhearing the things Young Justice said. At this point, he’d make a deal with the gods. Or://Dick keeps hearing the absolutely wild things that come out of Young Justice's mouths and then has to carry on with his day like there's nothing wrong.

Running in Place by d3ssie_r0se - Rated T

"Tim. How're his vitals?" She forced a calm into her voice. Like her, Tim was almost certainly itching to be out there looking as well. Still, it's not like either of them stood a chance. Cassie maybe, if he wasn't trying. Tim? At the end of the day, Tim was human. "Heartrate and BP through the roof. I can't tell if he's running low blood glucose yet. Both flashes have done this for days without crashing but... It was rough after." Cassie fought to keep her breathing steady. It was awful feeling helpless like this. Conner threw his bottle of water to the ground, "Okay. I'll give it another go." Then he was gone. Again. Cassie glanced to Tim. His usually cool blue eyes were betraying signs of stress as he clicked through various tabs on his laptop. They couldn't activate anything global without alerting the league and putting Bart in danger. Not to mention further stressing him out. -- most speedsters run off their problems when things get to much. where it gets dangerous is when they don't (or can't) stop.

Uh, Who?! by FloatingNebulas - Rated T

Everyone knows the four remaining members of Young Justice: Tim Drake, Bart Allen, Cassandra Sandsmark, and Kon-El. Everyone also knows that the four of them used to be part of a team named Young Justice in their early days, before joining the Teen Titans. However, very few people know what happened on that team. Very few people also know about the missing members of the team. Young Justice was not just those four. Young Justice was populated almost entirely by unknown names in case files and half-forgotten syllables. Or, five times someone learned about the forgotten members of Young Justice and had no idea who they were, and one time they met them.

it’s all fun and games ‘til Santa checks the naughty list by suzukiblu - Rated T

“Because we said we were gonna do it together, Bart,” Cassie says. “Which requires us all being here and contributing. Together. Tim is not here yet, therefore we are not all here and contributing, therefore we are going to wait.” “Tim is an atheist!” Bart says. “A Jewish atheist!” “Christmas decorations don’t, like, stop working if you don’t believe in them, man,” Kon says, then raises an eyebrow at him. “And aren’t you an atheist?” “That’s between me and the Speed Force,” Bart says, making a face at him. “But Tim is. And Cassie knows gods and doesn’t even pray to them, and you just keep anthropomorphizing your broken cloning tube!” “Poor ol’ Nanny McTubers, may she rest in peace,” Kon says wistfully, laying a hand over his heart before shrugging casually. “Or pieces.”

"Don't mess with my friends" by siren_of_the_ocean - Rated T

A phone call can bring many things. Good news, bad news, joy and terror. This particular phone call never should have happened. “Tim. Greta’s missing”

Those still here by Lilac_Demetrius - Rated T

After a week in space, Tim and his team return to earth only to find out that 5 years have passed since they left, and everyone thinks they're dead.

Bat in a Flash by siren_of_the_ocean - Rated T

When Tim is struck by lightning, his whole world changes. Everything moves just slightly slower now. Not because they are slow but because he is fast. Now he has to adapt and live, but with the help of Young Justice and the Flash team, he might actually make it through.

The Case of the Missing Kryptonite by Mouse_in_this_house - Rated G

The Kryptonite ring in the Batcave has gone missing. When such a dangerous weapon is in the wind, the Bats have to collaborate to track it down. Meanwhile, the former Young Justice team obliviously enjoys their piercing party.

Streamer by Day, Vigilante by Night by jupiterliketheplanet - Rated G

Ok, maybe Tim has a problem with working too much. But seriously Dinah, a hobby? or; Four friends accidentally get internet famous in an attempt to get Dinah off their back about having fun outside of work.

Tim Collects Last Names Like Infinity Stones by zetarogue - Rated G

“If we got married, you’d be Tim Allen.” Tim didn’t look up from his computer as he spoke. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t just add another hyphen.”

Put a ring on it by Miss_Choco_chips - Rated T

"You’re gonna freak out so badly over this when you actually wake up", she informed Tim’s fluffy hair. Said vigilante only released a cute little snore, face buried on her lap, legs thrown over Kon’s, one hand that had fallen from the couch resting on Bart’s head where he sat on the floor in front of them. "Well, they were going to find out one way or another. And this was probably among the best scenarios." "How? This was probably out of Tim’s ‘worst case’ nightmare list." "I was there and saw their faces. I didn’t even know Batman could express any emotion other than ‘cold’ and ‘overflowing with rage’. That image will bring me joy in future distressing times, I’m sure. My patronus memory, if you will."

[jasina85]

Okay... Hunter the Reckoning 5th edition. I unfortunately have opinions not many people will be surprised about.

The game still feels like it has an identity crisis between wanting the player characters to be the everymen who said enough and started biting back against the supernatural and being very special with access to special powers. This was true in the legacy era with the Imbued and the Numina, it's still true with Edges. Now, having the characters be special - there's nothing inherently wrong with that, because special characters tend to make for natural protagonists, but it feels like the game can't decide if it wants everyman or special more and it ends up awkwardly reaching for both.

I've heard people say that just as VtM 5 took some mechanics for Chronicles' own Vampire the Requiem (which looking at both systems side-by-side is fairly obvious), so did HtR 5 do the same with Hunter the Vigil. I can't comment on it, as I've neither read through or played the Vigil, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was true. Speaking of Vampire though...

The attention to detail in places in this book is god-awful. The example presented for the Linguistics merit IS THE SAME LEBANESE VAMPIRE IN MEXICO CITY WORD-FOR-WORD. Seriously?! You couldn't even be bothered to rewrite that to fit the book it's in now? That just feels lazy.

Hunter Creeds... feel utterly pointless. The only mechanical difference between them is what you can use Desperation dice for and their fluff text all reads so similar for the most part that if you were to remove their names from text, I wouldn't be able to tell most of them apart. They feel like they only exist because the designers needed to shoehorn in some kind of character class system, because ttrpgs need to have those, right?

The Drives meanwhile are fine. Nothing much to say here, since they're primarily a narrative tool, rather than a mechanic one.

Edges! I'm very divided on these. The Asset and Aptitude Edges feel okay... until you realize that stuff like getting your hands on say... a car, a custom-made gun or explosive would fall under Allies/Contacts in other splats, but in here getting those is a special ability, implying you need that Edge to have any chance getting it. It feels very messy.

Endowment Edges on the other hand feel pretty fun! They're obviously supposed to be the choose-your-own-flavor Numina, and they feel like the best fit for representing True Faith, but you could flavor then as Hedge Sorcery or in some cases even Hypertech, as long as you accept most of these only work against the supernatural. It's not ideal, but it's probably the most fun part of this book.

Lastly, I want to talk about how HtR5 uses Chronicle Tenants. In short - it doesn't. Oh sure, it tells you to decide on them, but there's no actual mechanical consequence for breaking them. In Vampire, breaking a Chronicle Tenant usually means Stains on your Humanity, in Werewolf you have Harano... in Hunter you have nothing. Chronicle Tenants, at least to me, have always been half about setting a theme, half ideas to be challenged during play. Do you break one when doing so would be the right thing? Hunter leaves no such considerations, because when there's no consequence, does the choice even matter? Instead it treats them as closer to lines and veils for the players, which is just not what they're meant to be.

Oh, right, the orgs... meh? The returning ones like Arcanum and Saint Leopold are mostly the same as they were in legacy, only with questionable rewrites and squandered old plot threads. Also, who thought having an org who's name abbreviates to KKK was a good idea? No, they're not actually the Klan, but seriously? And yes, the choice for not letting players be a part of an org is still dumb.

I'll be honest, I'm not sure I'm going to read much more of Hunter 5. This has been a highly frustrating experience.

On one final note, I've said this before but god damn it, the actual art style of this book? The actual drawings in black and white punctuated with splashes of blaze orange? It is soooo good. I wish this was a consistent art style across the 5th edition World of Darkness with a different color for each gameline. It is simply just so striking.

[pinkberrytea]

OC Layers Tag Game

Thank you so much for the tag @caughtnyact! I did this for my Tav/Durge Mavka, I hope that’s okay!

No pressure tagging in turn @xxnashiraxx, @andromedaancunin, @khywren, @arzen9, @nerdallwritey, @bby-bel, @vividiana, @bum-dragon, @zekeen, @angelicgaming1007, @emmy-dekarios-bg3, @judasiskariot, @hellethil, @eraserspiral, @nyx-knox, @deadly-diminuendo, @astarionancuntnin and @treshmind!

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

Name: Mavka · Sol Provoss (Foster)

Eye Color: Dark sclera, blood red/pale pink irises (depending on whether she is or isn’t under the Urge’s influence).

Hair Style/Color: Platinum rose tresses, falling in waves down to her feet. In their first night in camp together, Shadowheart helps her cut it just below her hips.

Height: 5’0” (w/o horns) · 5’2” (w/ horns)

Clothing Style: Coquette-ish and hyper feminine, with lots of frills and risqué silhouettes.

Best Physical Feature(s): Her shapely body and sweet, doll-like face.

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Fears: A loveless existence; being consumed by the Urge; thunderstorms.

Guilty Pleasure: Taking long mid-afternoon naps.

Biggest Pet Peeve: Whenever people she isn’t well acquainted with touch her horns.

Ambition for the Future: To be loved.

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

First Thoughts Waking Up: "Astarion..."

What They Think About the Most: "Did I do something wrong?"

What They Think About Before Bed: "Please… Just one more dreamless night..."

What They Think Their Best Quality Is: "That’s okay. As long as they don’t leave me, I can take it. I can endure anything. As long as they stay."

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

Single or Group Dates?

To be Loved or Respected?

Beauty or Brains?

Dogs or Cats?

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie: Yes, very easily, especially if it’s for survival or to protect a loved one, and especially to herself.

Believe in Yourself: No, not at all.

Believe in Love: Yes. It might be the only thing she truly believes in.

Want Someone: Desperately.

LAYER SIX: HAVE YOU EVER?

Been on Stage: No.

Done Drugs: No.

Changed Who You Were to Fit In: Yes.

LAYER SEVEN: WHAT’S THEIR…

Favorite colors: Red.

Favorite animal: All of them! She is fond of all manners of cute and fluffy critters, of course, but there’s a special place in her heart for creepy crawlies or any other creatures with a less-than-favorable reputation.

Favorite book: Mavka is an avid reader of both poetry and sugary sweet romance novels; if she were to name a favorite, it would probably be any volume from The Silk Mask saga, a series she became acquainted with in her younger years. In her childish innocence, she would pretend she was its protagonist, Lady Elrada, a slave from birth and secretly a princess of Cormyr.

Favorite game: There are not many games Mavka excels at—she has terrible luck and is an awful strategist. Likewise, team sports are very stressful for her due to her timid, anxious nature, and while she is undeniably stealthy and nimble, physical activity isn’t something she particularly enjoys. As a child, she would skip rope and play hopscotch by herself, so those would probably be the only games that would come to mind if she were to name her favorites.

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

DOB: 1 Nightal, 1469 DR

How Old Will You Be: 24

Does Age Matter: Not to her, in most cases.

LAYER NINE: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: Astarion.

I feel: love, and pain, and grief.

I hide: my feelings, because if I hide them well enough, maybe I will never be alone again.

I miss: a past I never had.

I wish: I am never unloved by my heart’s desire.

[yumelatte]

Of All The Things, I Became A Priestess In Amphoreus - Chapter Five

Bath & Bond Works

In which you wake up to find yourself being a priestess in an otome game, and Phainon is the knight commander at the temple.

Phainon’s the true male lead; you’re not the female lead, but it sure feels like it.

Otome Isekai AU

AO3 Link

Masterlist

<- Previous Chapter | 5: Bath & Bond Works | Next Chapter ->

Having not forgotten about the reason why you came to the city in the first place, you asked Arielle, “How did Little Dei get affected by the madness?” 

With a hand under her chin, Arielle thought for a moment, “...Those two love running off to the baths when they think no one’s looking.”

“So I got a bunch of troublemakers…” Sighing, you looked down at the pair of chimeras resting on your lap. 

Realizing you were bad-mouthing it, Little Dei gazed up at you with its big ol’ eyes, as if saying ‘who, me?’ 

Your expression softened, heart melting at the sight of it. 

What were you thinking? Yeah, there was no way it would cause any more trouble.

The yellow chimera let out a pleased howl as you petted it. Not wanting to be left out, Little Phai nudged your other hand. Complying with its wish, you also petted the blue chimera, and it blissfully howled as well. 

Arielle giggled at the endearing display, admiring the docile creatures. “I’m impressed by your ability to tame them. They usually give a hard time to their administrator. I know he won’t miss them, and I know they’re going to be in great hands with you.” 

Nodding to agree with her, you kept your eyes on the two little critters.

You didn’t expect to acquire two new friends, but it wasn’t unwelcomed. 

What was unwelcomed and alarming was the fact the baths might be the source of corruption. If what Aglaea had said was true, then it would be a problem. There were many people who went to the baths on a daily basis, so if you were to find the source there…

…Let’s hope that’s not the case. 

“Thank you for your hospitality, Arielle.” Subtly glancing at where your companions were, you continued, “But I think it’s time we head to the baths to see what we can find.” 

Arielle smiled as she returned your thanks, “Thank you for solving our crisis!” 

Gently brushing the chimeras off your lap, you stood up and walked towards Phainon and Mydei. Little Phai and Little Dei stuck by you as you approached the two men. 

“Arielle just told me these two…” you looked by your feet before coming back up, “...sneak into the baths sometimes.” 

Mydei smugly asserted, “They are not as sharp as you believe they are then.” 

Phainon was quick in his retort, “Aw, don’t say that! I’m sure they just want a break from all the work they’re expected to do.” He deeply felt for these creatures. Imagine working non-stop in a competitive environment. Once completing their tasks, their reward was only more assignments… “Anyhow, it’s truly concerning… It’s time we go there. None of the gardeners had any meaningful information.” 

With nothing more to do in the garden, you all headed towards the original location. 

Noticing the trailing chimeras, Phainon paused in his tracks. “Err… you’re taking them?” 

Mydei did the same upon seeing the yellow chimera by his side, watching it with attentiveness—it matched his curiosity with its eyes.

Oh, right. They didn’t know about how you were relieving them of their duties. But what’s so wrong about that? Arielle had said they wouldn’t be missed, so you were doing them a favor by taking them.

“Is it a problem?”

You sounded so confident that Phainon couldn’t argue with you, so he let it go while continuing to the baths. The gardeners didn’t seem to mind either. “No, no problem…” He wondered if you gave them names as he saw the blue chimera keeping up with his strides. Or maybe you just called them Little Chimera like everyone else… Somehow, he doubted that was the truth. He would find out soon enough. 

Once you, Phainon, Mydei, and the chimeras entered the entrance of the palace, you marveled at the magnificent interior. If you thought the outside was grand, the inside was even more so. 

Polished limestone with gold accents and blue marble were underneath your feet, and they made a satisfying click as you traveled across them. The high ceiling had red curtains flowing out from a single point, which was the waterfall encased in gold metal. There were different plants lining the walls, giving a refreshing vibe to the building.

Children and adults were entering and exiting the area, dressed appropriately for the baths. 

Feeling the change in humidity, you took quick looks at your companions, wondering how they felt. You certainly felt like wearing less.

Mydei probably didn’t feel any different because of what he was wearing; however, Phainon probably would…

You expected to see Phainon sweating and bothered by the temperature, but when you peeked at him, he looked undisturbed. 

Unable to hide your interest, you asked, “Do you come here often, Phainon?” 

“I don’t really have time to, but I go here when I can. I’d love to come here more to relax though.” 

Imagining Phainon coming here was a dangerous thought, but your head had a mind of its own as it flooded you with images of him without his usual armor—shirtless and about to immerse himself into the steaming water. 

Shaking your head to rid your flustered self of such sinful concepts, you caught one of the passing bath attendants murmuring while eyeing the white-haired man, “...It’s the knight that likes to soak in armor…” And then with wide eyes, you looked at Phainon again, not being able to believe in what you just heard. 

He what? 

“It doesn’t seem like the main bath has any signs of what you described, Mydei.”

“You mean to say there are others?” 

“Of course, there’s the cold and hot baths. There’s also some of the minor baths…”

Checking the minor baths first proved to be fruitless as all there was were lounging Okhemans in clear, clean waters. 

The cold bath had many youths occupying it, and you were glad to be wearing what you were when entering the freezing room. Other than that, the blue, icy glow of the waters was evidence that nothing was wrong with it. 

The hot bath area’s steam assaulted you with no warning as you set foot in it. You took back what you said earlier. All of a sudden you wanted to shed some clothing, envious of Phainon’s unbothered attitude and Mydei’s exposed attire. 

The only thing sinister about the hot baths was someone trying to increase the already-searing temperature of the waters. 

With no leads and standing in the main bath hall, you all observed the Okhemans soaking in the shallow waters, unaware of a threat that might be lurking. There were storytellers on the center fountain spouting tales of the gods in fascinating detail that even you were lending an ear to. 

“...Well, there’s The Hero’s Bath.” Phainon’s voice interrupted right when you were about to hear the conclusion to one of the stories. 

Gathering your wits, you asked, “The Hero’s Bath?” 

“It’s on the highest floor.” Phainon pointed at the floating structure at the end of the place. “Aglaea commissioned it because Mnestia wanted her to. When the platform was finally built, crystal blue waters flowed into the empty reservoirs as if Phagousa had been waiting to bless it.” 

Just how wealthy is Aglaea? No wonder she didn’t need your money for the dress…

“When I asked her why she had called it that, she had only told me it was reserved for the ones who will save the world.” Phainon frowned with furrowed brows. “Even though she had said it was for that purpose, I thought she just wanted an area where no one would disturb her since she’s there sometimes.” Looking at the white, cracked pearl in the distance, he went on, “I was confused on what there was to save the world from, but…” Gazing at you with a fondness that made your heart flutter, he said, “...maybe you were meant to be in it.” 

Phainon didn’t need to stare at you like you were the next god or something. And why was his number increasing? 23% into 25%. Phainon… Did he respect you this much?

“O-oh…” Slightly stuttering, you gave him a shy and unsure response, “I wouldn’t know…” 

Mydei’s focus was on the levitating formation as he listened to Phainon’s ramblings. “What are we waiting for? Let us take a look at those baths.” 

Using the elevator platform, you and your companions ascended to The Hero’s Bath.

The cracked pearl was the source of the water, but from the bottom of the building, it had seemed fine. It didn’t have traces of corruption; however, upon reaching the floating bath, the sight of murky, dark waters in the reservoirs immediately distracted you from the luxurious decorations of the place. 

Little Dei drew closer to your skirt at the sight as if it remembered something unpleasant. 

“It’s…?” Phainon’s eyes were wide as he studied the tainted waters flowing around the tables and lounge seats in the bath before turning towards Mydei. “Is this what you saw?” 

With a serious nod, Mydei answered, “Yes, it is similar to what we have seen…” He looked around, searching for something or someone. “There is no attendant here… It is near impossible to know who else came here then.” 

Mydei was right; there was no one around to be a witness, and you doubted there were bath logs as it would be too much of a hassle to keep track of who came in and out of the baths with how many people came here on the daily. 

“Is there a log that keeps track of who came by?” You decided it didn’t hurt to ask, but if the answer was no…

“There’s no records… We’re in trouble…”

You were hoping that wasn’t the situation…

A question popped into your mind. Would people even be allowed in here? Aglaea had it specifically built for heroes. Are people sneaking in? In addition, how could they have entered the waters when it looked so unappealing? 

And then an idea emerged from your line of questioning. 

“Aglaea.” 

Not expecting her name, Phainon looked at you in confusion. “What about her?” 

“She’s Mnestia’s Chrysos Heir, right?” You were taking a huge leap, but something from Aglaea’s interaction with you from earlier stood out to you. She had said her gift was from Mnestia; however, it seemed like she decided at the last minute. Even if it was from the God themself, Aglaea had already seemed set in giving you the dress, and she had stared at you like she could see your soul for every action you’ve done. “If Mnestia is the god of destinies… and Aglaea is her Chrysos Heir… then she can see the golden weaves too.” 

Phainon nodded, following where you were going with this. “And she can see where people went if she looks into their threads.” 

Mentally patting yourself on your back, you turned around to stand on the elevator platform, waiting to go down. “Let’s go! She said to let her know if we need any more help.” 

Phainon and Mydei shared a look before both returning their eyes on you, the former’s indicator increasing by three—25% into 28%, the latter’s indicator rising by three as well—5% into 8%. 

You were none the wiser as you stood between the two men on the descending platform, wondering what Aglaea was doing at this moment. 

Before leaving the palace, you also made sure to inform the bath’s front-desk about the problem first. 

“I see you all took my statement literally.” 

Aglaea had been in the middle of a sale when she spotted you, Phainon, and Mydei heading in her way. Looking down, she also saw the two chimeras who weren’t there before. “And I also see you have gained two additional members to your party.” 

Her comment made you slightly laugh because considering what your situation was, the words she used weren’t too far from the truth. 

Phainon admitted, “We found the source.” 

“Oh?” Aglaea’s eyes were filled with interest. 

“It’s from The Hero’s Bath.” 

“Oh…”

“We came back because we didn’t know how to figure out who came into contact with it. But we’re sure you do, right?”  

With a confident nod, Aglaea said, “I do, and I’m thinking there have been some people who do not listen to rules… One of them being the woman who was at the banquet.” 

Curious about her sight, you asked, “So, it’s true that you can see the golden threads of Mnestia?” 

“Of course, Priestess. It is my duty to uphold Mnestia’s divine authority, after all.” 

Wow, to have a gift like that… “That’s pretty neat that you can see people’s destinies like that.” 

Smirking, she gave you something else to think about. “I can even see when you are up to certain activities…” 

…What does she mean by that? It didn’t mean what you were thinking of… right?

“It’s getting late. I will look into their individual weaves and gather them to head to your temple as soon as possible in the early hours of tomorrow.”

In agreement, you and your companions returned to Aedes Elysiae to inform the archbishop of the results of your investigation.

As you recounted it to the archbishop, he grew increasingly more concerned. You suggested setting up an area in the courtyard where you could use your capabilities to check their souls as a preventative measure. Having a line out of the clinic would be a hazard, so the open space would be better. You told him Aglaea was expected along with citizens who snuck into The Hero’s Bath, and the archbishop agreed with your plan. He would even allow you and Phainon to skip the morning ceremony. 

He had given curious glances at the small creatures by your feet, but he didn’t say anything which was surprising… but considering all the things he already let you get away with… was it really? 

The archbishop offered one of the guest rooms for Mydei in the meantime, and Mydei accepted. 

You and the chimeras went to your room while Phainon went to his quarters. 

Mydei took in the fresh air of the courtyard, the fire torches lending their luminescence to the location. 

Not being able to sleep, he decided it was a better use of his time to reflect on himself. 

Now that he knew there was a solution to madness, he had been feeling regretful. If he had known there would be a cure, he wouldn’t have gone along with his father in killing all those people.

How was he supposed to know you existed? 

In Castrum Kremnos, travelers had peddled their wares and had told stories of Phagousa and their wondrous blessings. Mydei had listened in on one of these tales, thinking they were preposterous; however, after meeting you, he was proven wrong. 

You, a priestess of Kephale, was capable of handling enraged people and creatures. Your touch had been graced by Phagousa, and he witnessed first-hand what you can do from the chimera in the garden. 

Who would have thought there was someone with the ability to heal wounds of the soul? With such a skill, you would be a formidable ally. 

“Hey, watch where you’re going, Phai! Dei, don’t touch that!” 

That couldn’t be right; why was he hearing your voice at this hour? 

In the cold night, warm light shone from a doorway leading to a room where food and pastries were created. 

Mydei lingered by the entrance as he watched you wrangle the two chimeras together in the kitchen. He wasn’t expecting to see you here, and he didn’t know if he should greet you. 

It was too late to choose because you did it for him—your eyes met his, and he saw you go through many emotions all at once before—

With your eyes flickering between him and the rowdy chimeras, you dumbly said, “Oh…uh… Nice to see you here, Mydei!”

Said chimeras moved to conceal themselves behind your skirt with the logic of: if they can’t be seen, they can’t be caught. 

A faint smile spread across Mydei’s lips, unable to hide his amusement. As quick as it came, he caught himself and cleared his throat while resuming his normal expression. “Priestess. What are you doing this late?” 

“I’m…” Looking at the blue chimera, you revealed, “I’m getting more cookies for them. They really like them for some reason. My roommate and friend, Lydia, had made them earlier today and left some for me.” 

A kind person you are; your roommate left you tasty treats, but you wanted to give them to these troublesome critters. 

Although… he was curious about their names. 

He had heard you say Phai and Dei a few moments ago. They sounded awfully familiar…

“Phai? Dei? These are their names?” 

“Oh, you heard that?” You nervously laughed, purposely avoiding his gaze. 

“I’m assuming you have put some deep thoughts into their names.” 

“There was some thought…”

The yellow chimera slowly approached Mydei and sat before him, staring up at him. 

Suddenly, Mydei had a sense of deja vu, and as he peered into its big orange eyes, he couldn’t help but compare them to his own. 

“Little Dei likes you!” 

He didn’t know what to do with this information; you did. 

Reaching into a bag, you pulled out a cookie and extended it to him. 

Mydei looked at it before returning his eyes to you, wondering what he was supposed to do with a cookie. Did you want him to eat it? 

“I must admit I have never eaten these types of food before, but I suppose it would not hurt to indulge this once.” He grabbed it from you, and in the middle of a bite, you let out a puff of laughter. 

“That one wasn’t for you, but it doesn’t really matter.” 

Confused, Mydei stopped chewing to glance over at you. If you didn’t want him to eat it then what did you want him to do with it?

Nodding towards Little Dei and bending down, you retrieved another cookie and offered it. The yellow chimera ate it out of your hand without a care in the world. “It was for you to feed it.” You gave the other chimera a treat as well. 

Oh.

Mydei removed his gaze from you in embarrassment. Of course, it was for the creature… 

He also crouched to better see the chimeras you were tending to. 

Saving him from his mortification, you inquired about his culture, “You said you never ate a cookie before? What’s the food like at your place?” 

“We have a diet of mostly meat and porridge.” 

“Do you drink anything special?” 

“Sanguine honey brew.” 

Tilting your head, you asked, “I don’t know what that is?” 

“It is what you call pomegranate juice.”

“A fancy name for just pomegranate juice…”

“To the Kremnoan warriors, it is more than just pomegranate juice. We used to drink the blood of our enemies.”

You swung your head to look at Mydei with wide eyes, taken aback by his disclosure. “Um… that’s a huge difference from juice…” After recovering from your shock, your attention went back to the animals, but your wary peeks from the corner of your eye were not hard to miss. 

“It is not so different.” Mydei fought the urge to laugh at your alarmed state. “A long time ago, a conflict broke out between Castrum Kremnos and the Seaside States. The Strife God, Nikador requested the defeated Seaside States to offer the blood of their residents, or they would suffer from divine punishment. Phagousa, with empathy for the residents, ordered them to offer pomegranate juice instead of blood. Nikador could not tell the difference between the two, and with even Nikador’s approval, Kremnoans changed the tradition from drinking blood to pomegranate juice.” 

Relaxing at his explanation, you remarked, “...Being unable to tell the difference between blood and juice… is certainly a skill…” 

Hoping he wouldn’t get smited for this, Mydei said, “Well, Nikador is the Strife God and not the Reason God.” 

A light giggle left your mouth as you turned towards him. “You can’t say that about your own God!” 

He had been ready to receive divine punishment from Nikador themself; however, nothing happened, so he assumed he was alright. 

“It’s getting late. I should be heading back with Little Phai and Little Dei.” Standing up, you dusted your skirt off. 

Mydei hummed, keen eyes on the two chimeras who were finishing up the rest of the cookies. “Little Phai and Little Dei…” Phai as in Phainon and Dei as in Mydei. “Surely, you did not name them after me and Phainon…?” 

“See you tomorrow, Mydei!” 

Before he could say farewell to you, you had disappeared into the night along with your chimera companions. 

With you gone, a quiet laugh escaped from Mydei; he hadn’t been aware he was holding it in. 

In the late hours on the kitchen floor, you had missed Mydei’s indicator raising by twelve—8% into 20%. 

The color morphed from white-grey to yellow. 

Phainon was glad he didn’t have to go to the morning ceremony today, so he slept in for a bit. 

Given his role at the temple, he was given his own quarters in the barracks, appreciating the privacy. 

After getting ready for the day, he exited the building, almost tripping over your little blue chimera. 

It affectionately rubbed itself against his legs as if it was happy to see him. 

Wanting to greet it as well, he crouched down to be at its level. “Hello, what’re you doing here, little chimera?” 

It howled its answer, and Phainon didn’t know what it was saying; however, its closed, content eyes said enough as he scratched its head. “Where’s your handler?” 

“Awoo!” 

Phainon was clueless in its meaning, but nodded nevertheless. “Ah, I see.” 

It gave another sound, wanting his attention; it already had it, but it started walking in the direction of the courtyard, and Phainon realized what it wanted. “You want to lead me into the courtyard, is that right?” 

“Awoo!”

“Well, lead the way.” 

Following it into the courtyard, he saw you… and Mydei…

“Can you put that there, Mydei? I can’t reach.” 

“Sure.”

“Oh, this is a little heavy for me…”

“I got it.” 

Since when were you this buddy-buddy with Mydei? 

Since when was Mydei this friendly with you?

Phainon watched as Mydei willingly helped you set up the area for the citizens with a strange, constricting feeling making itself known in his chest. The blue chimera by his side returned to you, and that’s when you noticed him. 

Waving at him, you shouted, “Phainon!” 

As he approached you, Phainon carefully eyed the preoccupied Mydei. 

Concerned for his well-being, you asked, “You’re up later than usual… Didn’t sleep well?” 

“Slept too well, actually…”

You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. “We’re already setting up for when I have to check on the citizens. I was ready to do this on my own when Mydei came and offered his hand.” Looking over at the blonde man, you nodded in approval with a smile. “He’s been such a great help!” 

Man… 

The children of the temple flocked over, wondering what was going on in the courtyard. Their eyes brightened with great interest as they saw Mydei working. Unaware of their manners, they proceeded towards him in hopes of convincing him to show off his combat skills. 

“Hi, mister! Can you show us some of your cool fighting?” one of the boys excitedly said. 

Mydei stopped what he was doing and stared at the kids, unsure of what to do. 

Phainon swooped in to save him. “I could show you guys something instead! If you’re going to be knights, you’ll be learning from me, anyway!” 

Pouting, the boy who spoke argued, “But we’ve already seen you fight. We want to see the cool visitor guy fight!” 

If Phainon had puppy ears, they would be drooping. He decided to retreat under a tree with his metaphorical tail between his legs. Everything and everyone was against him today.

With a shake of his head, Mydei observed the depressed white-haired man before addressing the children. “Kids, I’m unable to demonstrate my abilities for a different reason; however, you shouldn’t be fighting meaninglessly.” 

“But we see the knights fight each other all the time!” 

“They are doing it with the purpose of getting stronger. If I showed you all how I fight in a real battle, it would be devastating.” 

Mydei tried to reason with the kids, but they wouldn’t let him go. 

While Mydei was consoling the children, Phainon had been silently sulking when you appeared in his view. 

“Phainon?” 

“Hm?” 

“What’re you doing here? Could I get some help? Mydei is currently busy with the children…” 

“...Oh, sure.” 

An airy laugh emitted from you. “Are you sulking because the kids refused your offer?” 

He wasn’t. 

“...No.” 

He was.

“Oh, I was going to ask if you could show me your swordsmanship, but I guess if you’re not disappointed with them refusing then…”

Quickly standing up, Phainon manifested his blade from his back. “I said no such thing.” 

You were watching him with the same amount of interest the children had for Mydei, and what can he do but show off a little?

Readying his sword with both hands, Phainon demonstrated some hard swings on the tree. But he had a feeling you weren’t going to be impressed by just simple swings, so he stepped away from the plant. 

With precise and practiced motions, he used momentum to propel his arms into big arcs around himself, the blade never grazing him and always moving with a purpose. 

Finishing with a grand flourishing twirl of his sword, he had forgotten how exhilarating it was to wield a blade. The world had been at peace for so long that he had not gotten many chances to show his abilities. 

Hearing your applause, he snapped out of his daze—forgetting why he was swinging in the first place. 

“Wow, the kids are sure to be missing out! I’m glad I didn’t.” 

Making his sword disappear, he looked back in your direction and saw the blue chimera howling for him as if it was cheering for him as well. “Awoo!” 

Phainon chuckled, bending down to see his tiny new fan. “Your little guy is also encouraging me.” It nuzzled into his hand. 

With your hands behind your back, you slightly leaned forward to say, “Little Phai has always liked you. Maybe it’s because you defended it against Mydei yesterday.”

“Little Phai?” Phai as in Phainon—his name. 

“Oh… this one’s name…” you said, suddenly becoming shy. 

Cracking a grin and focusing on Little Phai, Phainon couldn’t help but be honored in playing a part in the naming process of your chimera. He wondered what you named the other chimera. 

“...You know…” 

At your voice, Phainon returned his attention back to you. 

With the gentle wind caressing your hair and with you fondly gazing at him and smiling, you divulged, “I think you’re the coolest, Phainon.” 

Phainon’s breath hitched, heart quickening—palpitating; it wasn’t like you were confessing to him, but you’ve never been this generous with your compliments before. And the way you looked at him… Have you always seen him like that? 

He couldn’t focus on your next words because he was still stuck on your previous ones. 

“Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!” 

Blinking, Phainon averted his eyes from you and placed a hand over his mouth, brows furrowing. He knew that his cheeks were turning red, but how red? 

Well, only you knew. 

Wondering why Phainon was avoiding your eyes, you were about to ask when you noticed his expression. He was blushing, and as you peeked at his indicator, you registered it had gone up—way up since last time. 

The last time you saw it, it was at 25%; however, you had noticed it had turned into 28%. Somehow, in between all the events that had happened, it had increased by three and now seventeen—28% into 45%. 

The pinkish hue was shifting into a redder color, and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

Deciding it would be better to focus on the task at hand, you shifted the conversation. “...Phainon, can you help me with the rest of the setup? The citizens and Aglaea will be coming soon.”

Still avoiding your gaze, Phainon agreed, “Yeah… Let’s do it.” 

You walked ahead of him in order to avoid looking at him too, face heating up and heart beating faster at the realization that Phainon’s feelings towards you might not be entirely platonic. 

Phainon was glad you were ahead of him because he didn’t know how to remove the glow on his face. 

He hoped no one else could see either. 

[thrown-away-opinions]

Stop Being Retarded

All the drama blowing up around Stop Killing Games is making me hate the whole fucking movement, because it seems like every talking head in charge of defending the movement is deadset on mugging for the camera, overreacting, and neglecting to actually clearly explain what it is they want, because they're too busy putting on a big, poorly acted song and dance about how outraged they are at some other youtuber.

To be clear, I do support the general ideas behind SKG. Delisting and forcibly shutting down games, or otherwise making it impossible to keep playing something people have already bought is objectively an awful thing to do. Game preservation is a good thing. Giving consumers the means to revive and maintain online games after they've been shut down (like with many MMO private servers) is great. These are all good things. I support these ideas. I think companies that try to put in "you own nothing" clauses into their EULAs and TOSs, like Nintendo just did with everything to do with the Switch 2, including the ability to perma-brick your console if they feel you've broken the contract in some way, is abhorrent.

However, I'm not convinced that "make the EU write new laws so they can punish people for us" is the silver bullet solution. I don't think they can actually do that for a lot of reasons, largely because this whole issue of games being "destroyed" (which is not the best word to use) is very multifaceted. The ways and reasons that many of these games are shut down isn't something that can be fixed by just having a law that says "you can't do that" or similarly, by demanding that all the code is turned over, or just putting the game in a playable, but offline mode.

Again, I support many of these things in concept, and think they would be amazing. Being able to make these dead games effectively public domain in any way they possibly can be, turning on private server access, handing over server hosting utilities, whatever. That would be great... But it's not that simple, is it?

Which brings me to Thor/PirateSoftware, who has become the primary target and scapegoat for why the SKG movement has lost steam. I don't really care for the guy and I will agree that he's gotten a lot of things wrong about SKG and their stated goals. He has a habit of confidently talking out his ass without really thinking about what he's saying. I don't think he even really made this point as well as he should have, but there's a valid argument against SKG that if any interpretation or potential execution of this "make it illegal to destroy games" proposition is crossing any other legal lines, then the entire thing will likely fall through.

PirateSoftware said a whole lot of dumb shit over the last few months, but I think he did initially say that he had doubts that the SKG idea could be as easily executed as Ross/AccursedFarms believed it would be in all cases. That there are aspects and complexities to this that favor the publishers/studios more than the consumer, and in those cases, the EU may not have enough authority to enforce a generalized "no destroying games" laws.

For instance, the idea that a game being shut down should just be "turned over" to the players is not as simple as just tossing out a download link to all their files because some people purchased the game at some point. The code, the assets, the serverside utilities, and everything else are the company's property. Buying a copy of a game doesn't entitle consumers to that property, nor does it give them the right to demand that these games be made open source, public domain, shareware. Again, would be fucking nice. Copyright law is a fucking nightmare and I hate it. But what I'm getting at is that those niggling little details, the copyright, the proprietary code, the sensitive internal documents and so on, could outweigh the hypothetical consumer protections that SKG is fighting for, or they could be a strong enough argument against SKG's goals to block any further policymaking.

For a lot of games, the always online, publisher-controlled servers would likely not be that hard to switch over to private server access or peer-to-peer servers. There'd probably be some malicious compliance involved, where people would have to create their own means of replacing matchmaking server, or whatever, I'm sure, but it is doable. There's also the possibility that "not destroying" a game just takes the form of the game staying available, but with no functionality so all you can do is practice matches with bots, or if that's not a feature, the ability to access the menus and look at your inventory, or whatever.

There's another big issue, though. What if a game has crossovers and collabs, licensed music, celebrity likenesses, and shit like that? Once again, copyright law saying "it is against the law for us to continue to distribute or have any hand in spreading this licensed content after our contract expired." and that can twist the arm just a little more so SKG cannot get its way. Copyright laws are not on the side of consumer protections or consumer rights. Should that change? Absolutely. Will a balding youtuber seething about some twitch streamer change any of that? Probably not.

Youtubing drama aside, I think the SKG website just fucking sucks. It doesn't say enough and it doesn't have enough answers. Their FAQ addresses some ridiculous questions, but it doesn't provide a clear blueprint of what this looks like for a wide variety of the different cases of a game being shut down and made unplayable. It's just a lot of hyperbolic "won't this ban [game type]?" "No!" or "Won't this cost a bajillion dollars?" "No!"

I don't think it comes from total ignorance of how games are developed, but it's not exactly as clear and obviously actionable as Ross and others youtubers are insisting it is. It really should be and it should not require that you slog though a few dozen hours of youtube videos instead of just seeing the whole fucking thing just clearly laid out on the website. What does this look like for a live service game? What can devs do right now to avoid these problems? What overlooked practices are leading to these issues that major publishers can take steps to prevent?

Lay this shit out. Contact game devs and get their insight on the matter. Don't just whine that there weren't enough signatures because some other jackass ran his mouth. Showing up now and telling everyone it's over, and then spending the rest of your time complaining and then having other e-celebs jump in to complain on your behalf about all the dumb things some dipshit said has just turned this into petty e-drama, which will undermine things further and still doesn't actually get anything done.

[zelbits]

The Skull Kid: A Terrible Fate

"You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?"

Skull Kid's story is right up there with the more awful ones that the Zelda lore has to offer. A cursed child possessed by an eldritch demon, he carries the guilt of his mistakes; much like the Hero of Time.

Let's start at the beginning.

For those of you who don't know, a skull kid is merely a lost child-- Kokiri or not-- who wandered too far into the Lost Woods and became an entity of the forest, impish in nature and mischievous. Adults who wander and become lost, however, become Stalfos, aggressive and dangerous enemies who have lost all humanity: except in the instance of the Hero's Shade.

If we go so far as to delve into the manga, we can see the very beginning of Skull Kid's unfortunate story.

A young couple and their children have decided to picnic on the edge of the forest. A young boy instigates a game of tag, but races off into the trees his father warned him to stay away from. His parents rush to find him, but it's too late. He can hear them calling his name, but he can't figure out where their voices are coming from. Soon he can't remember his name, his parents, or even his own face. He becomes a skull kid.

[note: it's been a very long time since I've read the manga, so I may edit this part for better accuracy later]

Being a skull kid isn't all bad if you don't remember who you were, but Skull Kid feels wrong. Different. The other skull kids laugh and make fun of him, and he doesn't know why. He wants a face, so badly. Eventually he agrees to help the Baga Tree capture some Kokiri since he promises him a face, and Skull Kid then gets his hands on Saria-- which is where Link comes in.

Link convinces Skull Kid to help him, and after defeating the Baga Tree, he gifts him a "face" of his very own: a mask intended for the Kokiri Festival. Skull Kid is the happiest he's ever been and plays his flute on the edge of Kokiri Forest, wanting to join in on the festivities but too shy to ask.

In the game, our first encounter with Skull Kid is, again, in the Lost Woods. He's part of the Happy Mask Salesman's trading quest, in which you grant him a "face." We don't see him again until Majora's Mask.

The Happy Mask Salesman travels south, adjacent to the Lost Woods. This is the very same path that Link takes on his search for Navi.

Somewhere along the road, the Happy Mask Salesman is knocked unconscious by an imp and his two fairies.

They didn't mean any harm, of course. Skull kids are mischievous in nature but aren't violent. But he found an awful treasure, one that the Happy Mask Salesman had been keeping a secret for a very long time.

Majora's Mask.

An ancient, vile artifact supposedly containing the spirit of a malevolent demon, the Salesman paid no mind to the tribes who had guarded it for a millennium when they warned him of its power. The Mask had a pull toward it. Once you saw it, you couldn't let it go.

Skull Kid found it, and became possessed. He was himself yet not, influenced by the spirit of Majora to cause harmful chaos in the land of Termina-- a world potentially fabricated from Link's mind and influenced by the demon, or an alternate dimension that Majora opened a portal to. In either case Majora went on to terrorize his victims: imprisoning the Giants, Skull Kid's friends, manipulating them to become horrendous beasts; influencing monsters and people alike; and in a final act of devastating finality, summoning the moon itself to crush Termina.

The only thing that could stop him was Link-- Skull Kid's friend. In his possessed state, Skull Kid can still see and understand what's going on around him, he just can't stop it. He witnesses the final fight against Link, unable to stop himself, until the Mask relinquishes possession of him. Majora, believing itself a prankster and thinking that its only "playing," invites Link to the moon for one final, deadly playdate, while Tatl and Tael remain with the unconscious Skull Kid.

Possessed by a mask of his own-- the Fierce Deity-- Link defeats Majora and saves Termina. Skull Kid redeems himself with the Giants and makes permanent friends with Link, who teaches him Saria's Song.

Back in Hyrule, Link grows up, becomes a Hylian Knight, and eventually enshrines the Master Sword in the Lost Woods, there to be protected by a certain Skull Kid. Perhaps he witnessed the hero become the Hero's Shade before disappearing, but Skull Kid dutifully protected the Master Sword for centuries... Until another hero came for it.

Did Skull Kid live with the guilt and grief of the trouble he had caused Link and the others in Termina, even long after Link's passing? Is that why he protected the sword without fail another the Hero of Twilight came for it? After the Hero of Twilight took up the Master Sword, the Skull Kid leaves, never to be seen again...

Perhaps, just maybe, much like the Hero of Time, he finally found peace.

Very short and to the point, but I just needed to get my thoughts out about Skull Kid! It's been in my head for a few days. If you have anything to add or want to be added to the tag list, just let me know!