#so much lore for a drabble

[hannahbarberra162]

Victoria Punk Breeding Farm AU part 2 - Kid's Revenge (NON CON, dead dove)

18+ MDNI | on ao3 | The Other Parts

Thank you to @quinloki for beta-ing this part <3

I do have more hurt / comfort / lore for this au (of an au). I'll write part 3 of this if there's interest.

You were lying on your tiny bed, the threadbare sheets barely providing you any protection from the sticky, cheap mattress. You hadn’t been able to sleep well in two nights, the memories of your time with 0162 still fresh in your mind. Sometimes that took the form of remembering his hard cock in your hand, the taste of him on your tongue, how wet you’d gotten from stroking him. Other times, like now, your memory honed in on the final words he’d spoken to you, that he’d see you again soon. You shivered despite being too warm, his threatening vow running through your mind once more in the dark of the night. 

Shaking yourself, you tried to focus on the book in your hands. You’d read it many times over, but it remained your favorite. It was a human science fiction romance novel, set in a world with no hybrids. Yes, it was dumb, but it was an easy form of escapism and you took your joy where you could find it. You would lay in bed at night and try to imagine a world where your life was different, where you weren’t just a hybrid living at a facility, where you meant something to someone…

“Miss me, Sweetheart?” 

You froze on your tiny cot, the book in your hands shaking as you registered the unmistakable voice speaking to you. It was late at night, no one was likely to be awake except you…and now Bull 0162. Your head whipped over to look at him as he took up nearly the entire doorway entry to your room. Your door was off the wall in seconds as he ripped it off its hinges with ease – using a metal arm where his stump had been.

“Why - how - I - you-” there were so many questions you wanted to know the answers to but you couldn’t formulate a single one before his large metallic arm crumpled your heavy steel door and threw it like a paper ball. You had heard that there were fruits that gave hybrids and humans powers, he must have eaten one. The door clanged to the floor as he started stalking towards you.

He looked the same as you’d remembered from the previous night, except instead of being strapped down he was sneering at you. Somehow he’d gotten boots and pants, the clothes only highlighting his muscular frame.  0162’s chest muscles gleamed with sweat and his tail twitched in anticipation as he stared at your breasts through the thin material. He seemed so much larger than he’d been before, his menacing aura increasing with every step he took into your room.

You got up on your knees, clutching your book and cringing away from him. There wasn’t anywhere to go, the room was barely large enough for your bed and a small desk. There was only one option since 0162 was in the doorway - you’d have to somehow get yourself out the window. Looking up, you thought about the practicality of jumping off the 3rd story balcony before your thoughts were interrupted.

“Don’t bother, you can’t make it in time,” 0162 grunted, drawing nearer to you. You shrank in on yourself, ducking your head and holding the book over your face as if in protection. The book was yanked from your hands, 0162 looking over the cover. 

“Killer reads this shit too,” he said, tossing the book against a wall. Even though it was pointless, you curled yourself into a ball and put your hands over your horns, hoping that your murder wouldn’t hurt too badly. Your eyes scrunched shut, waiting for the inevitable hit that would end your life. It wasn’t the first time you’d faced being killed but the metal arm had you imagining so many horrible ways to die. 

“Tch. Not gonna kill ya,” 0162 said. You cracked open your eyes to see him rolling his own. “We don’t kill our own kind. Besides, I have other plans for ya. Nothing you won't like if our first date was anything to go by,” he sneered.

You squeaked as his cold metal arm wrapped itself around your waist, hauling you over 0162’s shoulder. You tried wiggling out of his hold but his grasp was an iron band around you. He barely seemed to notice as his arm held you in place with ease. He gave your room a glance before taking a step or two further into the room. If your room seemed small before, it felt tiny now that 0162 was taking up the majority of the space in the room. You pounded on his back and kicked as hard as you could, the only way for you to survive was to get off 0162’s shoulder and away from him.

0162 wasn’t reacting to any of your strikes, maybe he couldn’t even feel them. Hitting his back was like hitting an iron door, it probably did you more damage than him. 0162 raised the fingers of his metal hand and the stainless steel cups you’d forgotten on your desk whined and warped under his command. Your eyes were wide as he controlled the metal with ease, shaping it into two large circular cuffs. 

“To stop you from fuckin’ squirmin’,” he said as the metal danced in front of your eyes again. But this time 0162 grabbed your hands in one of his own. Metal wrapped itself around your wrists like string and you felt the same around your ankles. You were bound in metal cuffs while slung over 0162’s shoulder, unable to dislodge yourself. You wiggled around but it was no use, you were trapped. 

0162 leaned over your dirty laundry basket, plucking the panties you’d worn the previous day between two large fingers. He brought them to his nose and inhaled deeply, making you flush with shame.

“H-hey! Those are mine!” you squeaked, your face reddening at the crude gesture.

“I know, I smelled the slick on ya yesterday. Could smell that messy pussy way down the hall. I was right, you were getting off on strokin’ me. Maybe you’ll have another chance,” he said with a menacing grin before balling up your panties. Before you could protest further he shoved the wad into your mouth, keeping his fingers in for longer than was necessary. You tasted your own tang on your tongue, your dirty panties effectively gagging you.

“Don’t spit ‘em out,” 0162 commanded, looking you in the eyes. He didn’t need to finish the threat for you to know he was serious. You nodded your understanding as 0162 looked around your meager belongings. He reached down and grabbed the book he’d thrown before, putting it in his back pocket.

“Nothing here worth taking. Damn, no wonder you’re sucking cock for money, look at this shithole,” 0162 remarked, smacking your ass with his metal hand. You yelped in surprise from the smack but it didn’t hurt that badly, at least not as much as it could have. You flushed at the insinuation but he wasn't wrong about your living situation. Your mind caught up with you as 0162 leisurely walked the hall back towards the stairs, yelling and the sounds of fighting coming up the stairwell. He kept you perched on his shoulder with his flesh hand wrapped around one of your thighs, his fingers dancing over your skin.

0162’s flesh hand reached under your nightgown to grope one of your asscheeks, grunting in appreciation as he kneaded your soft flesh. His fingers were dangerously close to your center and you weren’t wearing any panties. His fingers began exploring the crease between your thigh and your pussy.

“Mmmf!” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. 0162 paused to look over at you, his sneer returning to his mouth before laughing loudly.

“Don’t what? Don’t touch you without permission? What was it you said to me?” 0162 asked, tapping his chin as if in thought. “Oh yeah. It isn’t personal ,” he said with a laugh, tightening his hold on your legs. Without warning he jumped down the staircase to the landing below, landing with a dull thud. 

“I’ve got a lot planned, Sweetheart. Been thinkin’ about you since last night,” 0162 growled, his hand stroking up your bare thigh. You whimpered even as your core clenched, your imagination running wild. It would be a lie to say you hadn’t touched yourself to thoughts of him the night before, but being kidnapped wasn’t on your list of fantasies. 

Your confusion grew with the increased yelling and whooping as 0162 walked to the main hallway. You flinched as the sound of breaking glass and groaning metal grew louder with each step 0162 took towards the main hall.

“If you’re wondering about the guards, I killed ‘em. Well, me ‘n Killer. He freed all the hybrids. I took out the alarms and killed the breeders, those sadistic fucks,” he drawled, maintaining eye contact with you. His fingers gripped your upper thigh tightly; there’d be bruising there tomorrow. Your mind was ripped from his fingers roaming between your thigh and cunt as you heard a stampede of hoofs and feet heading towards the main doorways. 

“That doesn’t include you, Sweetheart. You’re not going anywhere, you’re coming with us,” Kid said with a toss of his horns. Who was us?  

You smelled the blood before you saw it, tremendous splatters of it all over the marble floors. 0162 sauntered into the hall as another gigantic bull wearing a full face mask decapitated one of the few remaining guards. You were guessing that he was Killer, who was living up to his name. Hybrids were leaving the building through shattered doors, heading out of the facility and towards their freedom. 

Any thought you had of escaping Kid evaporated as you heard the sickening crunch of Kid stomping a guard’s sternum beneath his boots. You breathed heavily through your nose to avoid gagging from the sight of the splayed body. You didn’t feel pity for the guards but you didn’t want to end up like them either.

“What? You feelin’ bad for these fucks?” Kid asked as he deliberately crushed a dying man as he passed by, making him scream in pain as Kid broke the delicate bones in his hand. Maybe you were in shock but your face didn’t show any fear or sadness at the gory scene.

You shook your head emphatically, not wanting him to think otherwise. You didn’t like the breeders, guards, or orderlies any more than he did. If anything, you had a few more years and a lot more experiences than he did to fuel your hatred. You agreed - they were getting what they deserved.

“Oi, Kid. Time to go, Wire’s waiting,” a gigantic blond bull stated through his blood stained mask, pushing a limbless torso off one of his scythes. At least you didn’t have to ask 0162 for his name, he evidently was named Kid. You would remember it, you didn’t think he’d take kindly to being called by the number the scientists had given him. Kid walked towards the other bull, reaching into his back pocket and retrieving the book. 

“Found this,” Kid said as he handed your book to the bloody bull. The bull turned the worn novel over in his hands and gave a thumbs up. Kid snickered as the blonde bull stuck the book in his own pockets, but his smile quickly dropped as he took in the scene before him.

“Light it up, Kil,” Kid grunted as he carried you out the hole blasted into the building the other hybrids had used. You watched Killer light a rag in a glass bottle filled with some liquid and toss it casually into the center of the building, the fire immediately catching on some debris and spilled liquid. He followed shortly thereafter, easily catching up with Kid as the two of them walked down the main road to the electric gates of the compound. You startled when a large explosion rang out, the outer walls of the building catching on fire.

“Whole thing’ll blow,” Killer said with a shrug. Kid grunted as a reply. The scene outside was chaotic with some hybrids leaving, some fighting the few remaining guards, and some bulls and cows fucking on the now disorderly grounds. Kid ignored everything and trudged steadily towards the hole that had been blasted through the gate. 

Another gigantic bull, even taller than Kid, was smoking and waiting by the largest vehicle you’d ever seen in your life. It looked like an old army Jeep except all the sides and roof had been ripped off. There were bullet holes on the sides of the vehicle and looked like someone had sliced through part of the metal. Not a great sign , you thought.

“‘Bout time,” the tall bull exclaimed, dropping his cigarette and stubbing it out with a steel toed boot. A blue haired bull was there too, this one with branding all over his face, neck, and down his arms. You couldn’t imagine what they’d done to him. He was playing with some kind of ball in his hands.

“Kid!” the blue haired bull exclaimed happily before throwing the ball a few feet away. It rolled closer and you saw it was a human head. You shuddered - bulls were known for violence but nothing like this.

“Took you fucks long enough,” he grunted though he wore a smile on his face. 

“Brought one for the road?” the tall bull asked, raking his eyes over your body. Your face heated, you once again wished you were wearing more than just a nightgown.

“Yeah. I have a favor I need to repay.”

A few hours later, the car finally stopped. Kid had dumped you into the cargo hold of the car - which didn’t have a lid or any doors. You'd been afraid you would bounce out and onto the road with every bump and lurch of the car and left for dead. The engine had roared as Wire sped down the deserted road heading towards the wilderness. You weren't actually sure where the facility was located, it had been a long time since you were brought there. You had vague memories of living in the wilderness beyond the human controlled areas, but they were from so long ago they felt more like a remembered dream than your actual life.

The bulls were talking in the main cabin but you couldn’t hear what they were saying due to the wind whipping you from every direction. You were cold, tired, thirsty, and hungry as your head jostled with every small bump in the road. Your legs had fallen asleep what felt like hours before and you wished you could stretch them. You counted yourself lucky that Kid had bound your hands in front of you, at least you could use your hands to keep the hem of your dress from flying up.

When the car stopped, you hoped that Kid would unbind you, maybe give you something to drink or at least let you pee. None of those things happened. The bulls all got out of the car and the blue haired one grabbed supplies from the backseat, only giving you a cursory glance before heading towards the clearing. Using the lights of the vehicle, Wire and Killer began making a fire in a cleared area of brush using wood that had been stacked there before. They must have been in this location before, the bulls all seemed to know where everything was located. The fire quickly caught and Wire came back to turn off the car, leaving you alone in the dark.

The bulls were drinking and occasionally talking with one another, clearly enjoying each other’s company in their own way. Every so often Kid’s eyes would flick to you, making eye contact with you from beyond the fire as he brought the bottle of alcohol to his lips. You didn’t know what his plans were for you, but the maniacal grin that often accompanied the stare made your heart beat faster in your chest.

After a while, despite the cold and your discomfort, you felt yourself dozing off. You’d barely closed your eyes when you felt the metal from around your ankles removed, blood rushing back to your feet as you jerked awake. Your sleepy confusion quickly left you as Kid grabbed one of your small horns and pulled you to sitting. You whimpered, still unable to talk with your dirty panties in your mouth. They were completely drenched in your saliva but you’d kept them in like he’d told you to.

“Rise and shine, Princess. We got unfinished business,” Kid snickered. His grip on your horn was strong but not painful as he craned your head to meet his gaze. The other three bulls at the campfire weren’t even pretending to hide their interest now, staring at you from around the fire pit.

“Oh yeah, forgot about these,” he snickered, letting go of your horn to take the panties out of your mouth. You rubbed at your sore jaw as much as your bound hands allowed; it ached from having something in your mouth for so long. As you did, it didn’t escape your notice that Kid tucked your panties into one of his back pockets. It was silent as the reality of your situation hit you - you were in the wilderness with four bulls, the biggest of whom you’d jerked off against his will not 48 hours prior.

“What? Nothing to say?” Kid taunted, his thumb running over the raised grooves on your horn.  

“I need to pee,” was your only reply as you fought the urge to buck his hand off. Kid shrugged his shoulders, his muscles rippling in the light of the fire.

“Can you walk?” Kid grunted as he picked you up around your middle. He didn’t immediately lower you to the ground, keeping you in his arms for a moment until you answered.

“I think so,” you said quietly. Kid set you down on your feet and turned to go back to the fire. 

“Where should I-?” you looked around, there wasn’t anything nearby that would give you coverage from the bulls watching you. 

“Wherever you want, Sweetheart. S’been a while since you slummed it and pissed outside, huh?” Kid said, sitting back down by the fire and picking up the bottle of booze once again. You didn’t answer but your face burned with shame as you walked a ways away to go pee in the brush. It took some time for you to pick your way as you weren’t wearing shoes and the ground was covered in various brambles and thorny plants. You stepped on something sharp and hissed, jerking your foot back immediately. But there was no other solution, you had to keep going if you wanted to save any shred of your dignity.

Wire and Killer watched you the entire time, their interest never wavering. Your face burned even hotter under their close supervision, sure you looked like a complete fool as you squatted down behind some particularly tall grass. It took you some time to figure out how to hold up your nightgown with your tied hands still bound and even longer to summon the courage to actually pee. 

Finally, the ordeal was over and you walked back towards the campfire, unsure if Kid wanted you back in the vehicle or with them by the fire. As you came closer you overheard the bulls talking about you. You hid behind the vehicle and poked your head out to the side, listening in on their conversation.

“Cute little thing,” Killer remarked, slipping the bottle under his mask. You thought you saw a goatee but it was difficult to tell.

“Fuckin’ bitch sometimes,” Kid replied, lounging with his flesh hand on a bent knee. “Sucked me good though,” he said appreciatively with a toss of his horns.

“She sucked you off at that place? Why?” the blue haired bull asked, his eyes raking over your body. 

“Heat, it was a breeding place. They’re makin’ Kid babies,” Wire laughed, like this was some kind of joke.

“Not anymore,” Killer replied.  

“With her mouth though?” Heat wondered aloud, his tail twitching with interest.

“She was workin’ there, not a breeding cow. She worked against her own kind, s’not right,” Kid said with a scowl.

“Might not have wanted to,” Killer said evenly. It was difficult to tell his expression behind the face mask but you hoped the others would listen to him. Kid scowled and took another swig from his bottle.

“Tch. Shoulda seen her, like a bitch in heat. She-”

“Can we get a taste too?” Wire interrupted, motioning to the general area where you were. You went completely still, your heart hammering in your chest. If that was what Kid had planned, you wouldn’t survive. There was no way you could take all four of those bulls, you’d barely survived your time in the breeding facility.

“Maybe later, this one owes me,” Kid replied, locking eyes with you from your hidden position. Your breath caught in your throat – he’d known where you were the entire time and let you listen in. “And I’m collecting right now.”

Moments later and Kid had you by a horn, pulling you towards a grassy area just off to the side of the fire circle. You tried digging in your heels and pushing against his arm but his firm grip had you stumbling along behind him. You kept your eyes on the ground, you couldn’t bear the shame of the other bulls watching you get ruined under Kid’s hands. 

“Enough of this ugly thing,” he grunted as he ripped off your nightgown, leaving you naked and shivering in the cool night air. Your wrists were still bound in front of you, preventing you from covering yourself effectively with your hands.

Your nipples puckered and Kid licked his lips like he was about to enjoy a fine meal. He reached out with his flesh hand and cupped your breast before harshly pinching your nipple. You hissed and tried to squirm out of his reach but it only made him laugh. He set his metal hand on your shoulder and pushed down, the implication clear. You were going to have to pick your battles, and fighting sitting down wasn’t worth the fight.

Kid held out his arm towards the vehicle and a large metal pole came flying towards him. You ducked instinctively, cowering and trying to cover your face and horns.

“Second time you’ve flinched like that,” Kid noted with a grunt. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice to ya. Much nicer than you were to me,” he said with a wicked grin. Kid planted the pole deep in the ground with one thrust. You didn’t have to wonder why for long as you were yanked backwards, the metal binding your hands magnetized to the pole. The pole had your hands bound overhead as you lay on the soft grass, like a meal set out for a king.

“You look real nice spread out like this, tied down. Pretty little cow, too. Can’t believe they didn’t wantcha-” Kid started to say with a wicked grin, kneeling down in front of you. He grabbed one of your thighs and pushed it open, reigniting your fight reflex. 

“N-no! D-don’t!” you wailed, trying to kick him away from you. Kid’s metal hand caught your ankle and pulled your leg to the side. He used his knee to keep your legs pried apart, his eyes looking straight at your glistening core.

“Just what I thought. You’re fuckin’ soaked,” he said, running a finger through your slit. You stifled a moan as he slowly dragged his fingers through your folds, taking his time to study every part of your cunt. You squirmed under his hold and intense stare, wishing your body didn’t react to him the way that it did.

“Knew you’d be a nasty whore for me. You want this just as much as I do. Maybe more,” he said with a wicked grin. Without warning he shoved two of his thick fingers into your pussy, rubbing them against your gummy walls. You keened loudly, unable to stop yourself from arching your back.

“I d-don’t want it!” you shrieked. Even to your ears it came out more like a moan than a serious statement.

“That’s not what this pussy is saying. All she's saying is yes,” Kid said, pulling his fingers out and sticking them into his mouth. You scrunched your eyes shut, willing the experience to be over quickly. It was horrible enough that Kid was about to have his way with you, but worse that your body was enjoying it.

“Shuttin’ your eyes won't stop this pussy from talking to me. And I've got a lot to say,” Kid said, lowering his torso down to the dirt. He pushed your thighs even farther apart to accommodate his massive frame, setting his mouth at your weeping entrance. His hot breath was fanning into your bare pussy, making you squirm. 

“K-kid, I - don't - please don't hurt me,” you whimpered, afraid of what was to come.

“Not gonna hurt ya, little cow. At least not in ways you don't like,” he said with a growl. “I told you I'd get even and I'm a man of my word.” With that, Kid put his mouth on your pussy, making you jolt in surprise. You’d read about this kind of thing in your romance novels, but it hadn’t ever happened to you. It was different from anything you’d ever felt before – warm and wet and oh fuck . 

From your books, you thought Kid would lap at you leisurely, that’s what they always said men liked to do. But Kid was devouring you, licking and sucking at you like he needed like the air he breathed. He dragged his tongue from the bottom of your pussy to the top, never directly touching your clit. You shifted your weight from side to side as he ran his tongue around your clit, waiting and hoping he’d actually give you what you needed most. 

Lewd sounds were escaping from both you and him - your moaning, mewling, and whining increased as did the loud squelching of your fluids as they ran down Kid’s face and your thighs. You bit your lip, why was he doing this to you? Shouldn’t he just want to rut you and get it over with? Your thoughts were torn away as Kid finally licked your clit with the lightest of feather touches. Your toes curled over Kid’s arms as you whined a reedy moan – how was he so good at this?

Kid worked your clit with patience, running over it with the tip of his tongue in short strokes followed by pressure from the flat of his tongue. If your hands had been free you would have grabbed his horns - to pull him closer or push him away, you didn’t know. As it was now you were trying to grind your cunt closer to his mouth, seeking release from the increasing pleasure he was giving you.

Your moans reached a fever pitch as Kid sucked your clit gently into his mouth. Your hips thrusted of their own accord and Kid shifted his hands to pin you to the grass. The mounting sensation was overwhelming – you tried wiggling away from the searing pleasure his tongue was bringing you. You yelped as Kid bit the inside of your upper thigh hard enough to mark.

“Don’t fuckin’ move,” Kid warned you, picking his face up from you momentarily. 

Kid’s fingers now prodded at your slick opening, entering you with ease. He curled them until they hit a spot in you that had you throwing back your head and thrashing against your bindings. 

“Right there, huh cow? Gonna make you fuckin’ moo before the end of the night.” You had no doubt Kid would make good on his claim as his fingers rubbed you and his tongue lashed at your clit mercilessly. Kid’s metal hand dropped your leg over his shoulder before pushing down on your lower stomach. Your vision was fading to white as pleasure built in you – you’d never felt anything like this before. 

Kid’s palm pushed down on your stomach and the tension in your body snapped. Your vision faded to white as your heels dug into Kid’s muscled back. You bellowed something, but you weren’t sure what. Maybe it was his name, maybe it was nothing, maybe it was a moo like he wanted. All you knew was that your body was shaking and your breath was coming in short bursts as you clenched around his fingers, milking them with your tight core. Kid kept lapping at you and pumping his fingers into you as came down from your high, not giving you a moment of respite until your whole body sagged. 

Your muscles relaxed, finally feeling the stress leaving your body. You took a deep breath, finally able to think beyond the sensations in your sensitive pussy. You and Kid were even, maybe he’d-

Kid pushed your legs open wider and licked you in a long stripe from the bottom of your still pulsing pussy to the top. Shuddering, you tried to yank your legs off his back only for Kid to shove his fingers into your mouth. You sucked on his fingers, tasting your own juices. Taking his hand out, Kid barked out a laugh at your confused expression. 

“Wh- b-but - it’s too soon- I’m too sensi-” you began to protest in panting breaths. 

“Oh, you thought we were done Sweetheart? I told ya, I’m treating you better than you treated me.”

“K-kid please, I c-can’t. Not ag-gain, please!’ you sobbed as you came down from your fourth? fifth? orgasm on his tongue and fingers. Your voice was scratchy from screaming so much – either as you came or in protest when he began the whole process again. Your legs were thrown over his forearms, practically boneless as your chest heaved with exertion. You wanted to try dislodging him from between your thighs but your hands were still bound over your head. Not that having your hands free would do anything, the bull was like a mountain. 

You’d tried kicking, shutting your legs, squirming around to get away from him – none of it worked. He didn’t even need to hold your legs open, the sheer size of his torso between them kept you spread wide for his perusal. Kid only hummed as he ran the flat of his tongue softly against the opening of your sore cunt. You jolted as more tears ran down your blotchy cheeks – you couldn’t you couldn’t you just couldn’t take any more. 

“Mmm. I like hearing you beg,” Kid said darkly from between your legs. He was sitting, holding up your bottom half to his face like you weighed nothing. His face was coated in your slick, the remnants of your last orgasm dripping down his face. The insides of your thighs were covered in bite marks and hickeys, not to mention copious amounts of your own fluids. Kid had worked your body with precision, getting you to come harder and faster than you ever had before for what felt like hours.

At first you were humiliated that the other bulls were watching and listening to Kid eating you out. They didn’t try to hide that they were turned on by what was happening, rubbing their hard cocks over their pants. You tried to keep your sounds to a minimum, maintain some of your pride. But by the time Kid forced you to come on his tongue while scissoring his fingers inside you for the third time, you’d given up on trying to do anything but live through the experience. So if he wanted you to beg, you’d beg. 

“P-please Kid, please. Please l-let me rest. I c-can’t take any more, please,” you implored him, tears running down the sides of your face. Kid tilted his head to the side as he considered your pleas. 

“Please, please, I d-don’t - I didn’t m-mean - I didn’t have a ch-choice,” you cried, your breath coming in short pants as he spread your lips with his fingers. Maybe if you apologized for what you’d done he’d be merciful and let you pass out.

“There’s always a choice,” Kid said as he hiked your pussy higher in the air again, bringing it closer to his mouth.

“W-wait! But y-you said-” you wailed as Kid’s tongue circled your hole once again. He gently nipped your clit, making you choke on a sob.

“I didn’t say I would stop. I said I like hearing you beg.”

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @fanaticsnail

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

got7 as supermarket cashiers:

jaebeom: glares at the customers if they distract him while working. is never at the checkout counter cause he has to do the manager's job as well

mark: works at his own pace and time. give discounts to customers if they have a cute pet

jackson: knows the names of all the regular customers. WILL nag them to take better care of themselves

jinyoung: gets pocket money from all the aunties and grandmothers that come to the store. rub's that in everyone's face.

youngjae: has headphones in his ears 24/7. gets nervous when he has to check out a long line

bambam: 'borrows' gum and makeup samples from the store. leaves the cash register open to bother yugyeom

yugyeom: cries once a week when customers (or jinyoung) yell at him for being slow

[fbfh]

you know what I'm thinking about?? beck oliver. yeah the one from victorious first of all FUCK YOU dan schneider and I'm specifically thinking about this clip from the episode where they try to make a reality show about their high school 0:31

I really hate that beck is one of those characters like lucas friar and tristin dugray where we simply do not get more clarity on them as a person. one of the few times we get to see beck really open up and talk about WHY he's so passionate about acting and it's immediately cut off and overshadowed by how he looks. dare I say he has elle woods syndrome. "beck and jade are toxic" "beck should date cat" "beck and robbie fuck" yeah yeah you know what he REALLY NEEDS????? he needs someone that does not give a single fuck about how he looks. he needs someone who prioritizes HIM instead of his hair. yes he's pretty and he has nice hair but those are all sprinkles. he needs somone who cares about the rest of the cupcake, not just the decorations. I think the reason he thinks he likes angry girls who yell and fight with him all the time is because when he and jade fight she's yelling at him about anything other than his hair. he needs a break from constantly being objectified is my point. you know what would be great?? beck dating a screenwriter. someone who works on the scripts for the hollywood arts shows they put on. someone who hunts him down in the halls looking like they rolled out of a dumpster with sikowitz and reeks of coffee because they've been up for 36 hours to meet their deadline and finish their homework.

you are just that. you do other stuff at hollywood arts too, but there's really not a lot of script writers there, so you've found a way to pretty much corner the market and it looks FANTASTIC on your student transcript, plus you get extra credit for it, which is even better. you're wearing a hoodie that looks like you slept in it for two days (true if you had slept at all) and you're not aware of the two or three empty jet brew cups shoved into your hoodie pocket, plus the extra one you're carrying that you're almost done with.

"Beck!"

you manage to startle him a little which is surprising because he is totally unscareable. he doesn't think you've ever exchanged two words before now, he doesn't even know if he knows your name.

"I need to talk to you," you pant, a little delerious from caffeine and sleep depravation and excitement. "I finished the script for the next play-"

Beck didn't realize that a student was writing any of the shows they put on, he thought they were all lisenced or from local writers.

"It's a dystopian retelling of frankenstein with- with cyberpunk influences," you ramble, "and I need to know if you're okay playing the lead." you pant, still trying to catch your breath and not lose your train of thought.

"some pretty fucked up stuff happens and you'd have to quickly lose your morals and go from morally gray to kind of antagonistic pretty quickly..." you look up at him and hand him a script full of sticky flags. "I wanna make sure there's nothing that'll make you too uncomfortable... like I said it gets pretty fucked up, but I wrote it with you in mind for the doctor, so- just, let me know what you think."

before he can answer, you trudge into the janitor's closet and fall asleep on top of a pile of paper towels.

Beck takes the script home to look over, and he's genuinely surprised for a number of reasons. he expected to be typecast as the love interest yet again, but you want him as the antagonistic lead. it's a really complex role, and has absolutley nothing to do with how he looks. you even left a sticky note in there by accident, and he reads your scribbled handwriting. doc MUST be smwn who fully commits and dgaf if it makes them look bad or silly or unattractive. if they get self consious it ruins the char

underneith are two or three names scribbled out, then his, underlined several times. he is so genuinely shocked by this decision, and absolutely fascenated by your script. he's actually getting really excited to play a role that will challenge him for once.

the next day he meets you with the script tucked under one arm and a coffee in each hand. he hands one to you, and you thank him with a pleasantly surprised smile.

"You seem like you could use it."

"That's putting it mildly..." you mutter in agreement, and he bites back a chuckle when you remove the lid and down half the cup at once. You look at him anxiously after that, and your eyes flit between him and your script. "So... what did you think?"

"I... accept." relief floods through you. "I've already been thinking about my character and going over my lines. But why did you want me for Victor?"

You shrug a little.

"Well, you got the script like, 12 hours ago and you're already developing your portrayal of him, so that's a pretty good reason there," you chuckle, "and I... I hope this doesn't sound mean, but I don't think there are a lot of other people here who could pull off such a complex antagonistic main character."

you state, taking another sip of coffee.

"Everyone here is great, really-" you emphasize, hoping you don't sound like a dick. "I just feel like no one else could really bring the depth to him that you could. He's a horrible person, but I still want the audience to sympathize with him at times, and go wow he's a fucked up asshole at others without making it feel disjointed. I think you're really the only one who has the skills to pull that off."

honestly, if Beck had slightly less self control he would have started wailing and sobbing right then. Instead, he's determined to live up to your expectations and prove to you that your faith in him will pay off. You work pretty closley with production of the show, and with Beck. after closing night, you and Beck are still pretty close, to your pleasant surprise. his friends are a little curious why Beck suddenly is spending all his free time with one of those kids in their class who never talks or says anything, but he seems... happy. he did in fact fall first, and he definitely fell harder. he falls even more when months pass and he realizes you are still too adorably oblivious to realize how he feels.

[shmothman]

Internet Safety

(Casper x reader, 500 words, post-ending 3, T for language)

“Casper. I need you to listen to me very carefully right now.”

You turn your phone around to face him, and he looks at you confused before reading aloud: “‘Immediate action required for your bank account.’” His brows knit as he looks up at you. “That sounds serious, are you in some kind of trouble?”

“No, no. Look at who it’s sent from.”

He reads the (incredibly phony-sounding) email address back to you, and then looks at you again, still confused.

You point at it. “This is what a scam text looks like.”

Casper narrows his eyes. He looks back at the text, then looks back at you. “But… it says your immediate action is required. Isn’t your bank account very important?”

You sigh. “It’s a lie, babe. They want me to click that link and put in my bank password. They’ll take that password to hack into my actual bank account, and then they’ll steal all my money.”

He still seems unconvinced. “But… what if you’re wrong?”

“You really are a scammer’s wet dream, you know that?”

He bristles slightly. “I do not want to risk not taking immediate action on my bank account.”

That gives you pause. “Wait, do they have banks in the underworld?”

“Yes? How do you think we deal with money?”

“Even in the underworld you have to deal with capitalism?” Honestly, you thought that his society was better than yours at that kind of thing. Though, maybe the whole ‘he was created for one purpose and that purpose is his job’ thing should’ve tipped you off. The billionaires of the mortal realm would love that shit. “Fuck, next you’re gonna tell me there’s capitalism in the afterlife, too.”

He shrugs. “I do not know. It is possible.”

“Please don’t say that to me. Anyway. If you’re gonna live in the mortal world for now, you’re gonna need to be able to tell what a scam looks like.”

“As far as I can tell, I cannot have a bank account here without an ID. Which, as I am not a citizen of this world, I do not have.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m your sugar daddy from here on out. But there’s still plenty of stuff I want to help you not fall for. Like the fucking virus you gave my computer last week.”

He frowns. “It said I had won a prize.”

“Also, what if we have to forge some documents for you and get you an ID and bank account?”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Are you looking to break as many of your world’s rules as I have mine? It will be much harder for us if we both have to go on the run.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and heave an exaggerated sigh. “Point taken. Just. Please. If you get any texts, emails, or popups like this… come to me before you click anything, okay? The geek squad guys think I’m an idiot.”

“It is not—“

“So I told them that my idiot boyfriend is the one who clicked the link.”

He pouts, and it’s very, very cute. “Very well.”

[antirepurp]

metal and sage have the building blocks for interesting conflicts and dynamics if the writers just. do something with those. sage taking on a human appearance that metal cannot achieve due to his inherent role as sonic's foil, who both is and is not him. the restrictions he has compared to sage's freedom. artificial intelligence with the blessing to expand itself with no limitations VS machine tied to the whims of its creator, reliant on external tampering to become more than what it already is. sage offering metal a hand because she is fascinated, captivated, with the concept of "family" - would that not come across as condescending, or would metal take what he could get, even if it meant staying in the shadow of someone more "real" than him?

there is tension and potential for something venomous, and the stage is set for exploring what makes someone "real" enough for a familial relationship. there is space to explore aspects of eggman's thoughts on his creations, why he would bestow the role of a child upon sage so easily, if it's just a different type of familial relationship to the one he has with metal, etc. but someone has to have the guts to go there and i wonder if anyone does

[hearthtales]

the urge to write bullet points to reveal character lore versus the urge to reveal lore in threads versus the urge to write a full backstory drabble versus the urge to reveal info just if other muns ask about it. fight!!

[hihopelessromantics]

making an nnt "god" a concrete thing with lore / biology. substance if you will. because committing to the bit is fun and nakaba missed out

inspired that the idea that not only should Meliodas and Elizabeth have a less human form but Tristan too! I love the different takes on their designs.

chapters cause this is long! and control f is our friend

canon adjacent lore

children of the gods

awakened god designs

the gods' chosen helpers

extra pet theory because I love y'all and I love elizabeth angst

@kalopsiakey @7-ratsinatrenchcoat thank you for helping out with the brainstorming for the tristan and melizabeth 'eldritch forms'! Hope you like the finished product!!

- - - - canon adjacent lore anyone ? - - - - -

In my aus, I usually go with the interpretation that the SD and DK are the latest two in a line of governing deities, with the others dying to various means. And the SD and DK blotted them out from public memory to establish the maximum amount of control for themselves.

In order to govern their realms, I propose it was a long-standing practice that gods would retain only a percentage of their power, and lend out the rest to trusted ones who help them ensure the safety and health of their realm. There might be other groups that the Archangels and Ten Commandments are in charge of!

Theoretically, this would also allow them to retain a form suitable to walk among their people. None of this taller than a castle shtick. Perhaps the DK and SD are physically magnified with their power. Part of their appearance is morphed by their will - the DK's armor, and the veil across the Supreme Diety's face seem to be symbols of their power. They can also be representative of how the DK was seen as an invincible opponent, and how now one knew the SD's true intentions but thought she's "too holy to look upon and find fault in."

To a god, sacrificing and dividing up your power (especially) in a time of peace is symbolic of trust and humility. In war, it could be neccessary to maintain one's prestige and honor as a monarch., Could mean that you value the ability to live as one of your people as one of them rather than as someone they worship.

- - - - children of the gods - - - -

What's the difference between something like the Supreme Diety and her daughter? Biologically, nothing, I'd assume. In nnt, "god" seems to be a state of being, asserted not simply by having power but by coming into your own and claiming it as you.

I propose that the gods are a conduit for that portion of their realm's magic that would otherwise roam freely, and that the other life in that realm has already absorbed, at birth, the limit each individual can handle. Biologically, that is.

For a goddess or demon to maintain that state in Britannia without cracking holes in the fabric of reality, there'd need to be some way to both reign in that power and dilute it down to a level that's manageable for that individual. And there probably are ways. Let's see what happened to Mel. His 'original powers,' when he accepted them, were raw and undivided; additionally, he had no clue how to manage a power influx of that extent and his mind was NOT in a good place to try and manage an extra extreme stressor. And uh. He has priors with letting his demon powers run amock in a destructive manner. If there's also a psychological component to how your godly powers act, that's the first uh-oh. Second uh - oh: he'd maintained complete certainty that unlocking them would have that kind of disastrous consequences for 3,000 years. self-fulfilling prophecies are a thing. especially if you believe that a demon's powers, specifically, their darkness, is deeply involved with their subconscious. Being 'a god' doesn't seem to logically coincide with being helpless. I think the real reason the DK and SD were trapped in their "bubbles" in their respective realms is their refusal to set aside that power, and walk as a simple demon or goddess even temporarily. A lack of will (in the gods' place) or a lack of control (Mel), rather than a lack of possibility. It makes it more interesting, I think!

In that case, the natural disasters we saw after Mel stepped into that power would be a result of the vast amount of demon realm magic accompanying him running completely amock in the wrong realm, interfering with the other magics present and the balance.

- - - - For "awakened god" designs! - - - -

I think Meliodas would want to keep his appearance mostly the same . . . just with more pizazz. Same with Zeldris, he seems to have it down pretty well already judging by his dramatic entrance in 4kota. If they're able to channel their powers well enough for this, I think they'd leave most 'monstrous' features toggled off while using this form except for their aura, and other associated demonic features such as wings, horns, and claws. They'd use the extra power boost to help their darkness roam with more versatility. Perhaps it'd form a tail behind them and coil about their horns and nearby loved ones like decorative, protective wreaths. It might lend a dragonlike flair to Meliodas, with several sets of horns about his face and dragonlike spines; and likewise, for Zeldris, some regal feathers and a simple, elegant floating crown - irremovable but loved - floating like a halo above his head.

I think Elizabeth would gain another pair of wings (if not more), and a dress of light in the same theme as Meliodas's assault mode outfit. She would have a magnificent crown of light, and she would hate it, she would complain that she didn't even wear a crown at her wedding, why does her magic think she'd want one? and she'd tear it off. every time. Maybe one day she'll accept it. Her brother-in-law tells her it's a symbol of how she'd given her heart, blood and breath to her realm, and to protecting the peace in Britannia, and that it's something she earned. But all she can see is this form is more grandiose than her mother's ever was, regardless of how much more like herself it looks than like some plain, no-faced worship-demanding statue. (That's how Meli describes her mother). Maybe one day! In the meantime, she released most of her original magic back to the Celestial Realm to assist in its revival. And covers up the crown with ribbons her husband sewed for her whenever she's prepping for a serious battle.

The special feature I came up with for what I'm calling Tristan's "awakened god form" is based on a biblical angel's wheels of eyes. That, except Twinkle stars, bright as a goddess's magic but as maneuverable as darkness, and they point in whichever direction he's focused on.

Wings would be feather-based, with darkness that weaves around them like the tounges of flames.

I think even the most high-level demons and goddesses would have less humanlike teeth in the back of their mouths accompanying their molars. Maybe just a little sharper, and much more durable. Maybe a second or third row of teeth that gets less prominent or even more retractable as it nears the lips. sharks come to mind. I'm jealous of their teeth. Why are ours so flimsy. Anyway. 7 rats proposed a demon / goddess child's noticably inhuman teeth might be like that of an anglerfish. Interesting idea.

Like. Uh- puts on a poetic narrator voice Like a wide smile, almost uncannily wide but almost like the way you walk with your feet pointed outward and not an emotion. And when he moves his mouth to speak or frown you can see little gleaming edges along his jaw like a set of jewels in a necklace. You're not sure what they are. Like spikes or horns but… from within. That ought to be decorative, you think, but you've thought the same about the demons’ sets of horns and their fangs and now that you think about it, the shapes surrounding the powered-up goddesses'… is they really magic or something supernatural beyond your mind’s comprehension. . . ?

As for the eyes - dark, demon-colored with swirling golden triskeles in the center. Since in normal form he already has the duality - and it makes sense considering how goddess and demon powers present themselves in their eyes - I think hiding the heterochromia in his eldritch form would make it more horrifying. Like, now we are stepping away from physics into what a “god” is in this universe. The darkness spills out of his eyes like the whisps of dry ice ofc!

- - - the gods' chosen helpers: examinating the the SD's blessings and the DK's curses - - - -

3/4 Archangels' Graces channel a certain element of nature: wind (Tornado), water (Ocean), light (Sunshine), with Ludociel's Flash being the odd one out. I propose this is because Ludociel has such a tainted mindset the only Grace that would take him is the one representing swift, determined action (because hehe). The Ten Commandments, unlike the Graces, have a further element of control - their double-edged nature - suggesting the DK isn't as thorough of a manipulatior (deadbeat hehe) as the SD and cannot rely on his command alone to gain 100% of the TC's focus. There's been clear tampering with the power it gives them, and less trust; they're artificial compared to the Graces, one of which was said to have chosen Escanor of its own free will. As for what they can do - they represent values that are considered virtues. Except for purity. what the hell does Derieri's purity do again? Not that she NEEDS that extra power, for the love of god the brute force trauma of this woman's second blow would probably cause permanent damage. Anyway, love forces those with hatred in their hearts to stand down from a fight (objectively not a bad thing), truth does the truth thing, etc.

These are not neccessarily combat-focused powers, though they are used and intended as such. It's not a stretch to say they could be utlized in a different manner in times of peace. The Demon Realm has probably countless small villages and intellegent species for the King to oversee and keep the peace between. It makes sense for him to have more vassals from that standpoint. Meanwile, the Celestial Realm from what we can tell has fallen into disrepair without the routine care of its people. I'm gonna go ahead and headcanon that the natural phenomenon here is at least as 'extreme' in human terms as the demon realm's, and that effectively managing a system of islands in the sky with probably dozens of intellegent migratory creatures like sky fish, etc. does take some supernatural effort. And that most of the goddess population here is centralized in one main area. Pretty much all nakaba has given us is an implied lack of diversity in the celestial realm (why everyone look like that except for Tarmiel) (it's fine we can make the creatures ourselves). Anyway. A not-double-edged-sword version of the Commandments and the current Graces could be repurposed to aid in civil relations (people), and enviornmental mangement (nature) respectively.

-- - - - - extra! pet theory as to why Elizabeth is an only child - - - -

I have a pet theory for my holy war au that Elizabeth wasn't made like a human child and is, rather, a genetic clone the SD shaped of herself (think shaping a living being out of clay) as well as just one in a succession of rebellious (and very dead) attempts at the perfect daughter. This is why there's only one of her, while Meliodas has a sibling, and why she's older than Meliodas. Until Elizabeth, there was no proof that what the SD and DK wanted could be managed without serious consequences. The SD learned that just having the one is important for the amount of control she wants over her daughter. She only has so much patience, and the sisters tended to back each other over her. Thank - well, herself - that they were so young. . . all those times. This is why the DK insisted on totally eliminating his children's emotions; he thinks so long as they don't care for one another, and don't even think to, he can manage as many as he wishes. Otherwise, he thinks the SD is a loon who failed like four times in succession, and refuses to acknowledge that he specifically waited for her to succeed, "learning" from her mistakes, before having his own children.

[crabsnpersimmons]

I have a question.

What would your CLIP AU voice be like?

probably the voice of your Sun and Moon hairdresser AU is exactly like that of the original daycare attendant sun and moon.

but what about Clip? it's a thin and lovely voice?, or calm and gentle like in the original Eclipse?

Or Is the voice different?

good question! and a tricky one, because i don't have any exact references to pull from and i don't know how much will translate, but i will try to explain the best i can

First: in the hairdresser AU, Sun and Moon actually sound a little different from canon! It's been a long time since their time at their PizzaPlex and they've undergone a lot of change, and that shows in their voices. So they used to sound like their canon voices, but they've changed over time.

Sun's voice is gentler than his canonical voice and it doesn't fluctuate as much (switching from excitable, to sarcastic, to threatening). Overtime, Sun has learned to keep his tone even and approachable. The best way to describe Sun is that he is even-tempered and calm. He rarely gets over-emotional, but Moon and Clip have a way of getting to him, since they know each other the closest. He only ever slips into his old voice and vocal habits (like repeating words) around Moon and Clip, usually in the form of sarcasm to balance their silliness (like his comments in this post). i like to describe Sun's voice as his customer-service voice, light and cheery enough to be appropriate for the situation.

Moon's voice is still a little raspy, but unlike his canon voice, it's less guttural and his pitch doesn't fluctuate as much. He also speaks in full sentences haha. The notable thing about Moon's voice is that it lacks the playful gremlin quality we all love about canon Moon. His tone isn't as playful and he doesn't giggle as much as he used to. Perhaps he'll have a short friendly chuckle when talking to a customer, but it's not gremlin level laughter. i think the closest voice reference i can think of is Corey Wilder's voice dub for Moon. still a little raspy without being too guttural, and more eloquent and charming in his delivery. Overall his tone is kinda dry, but when he begins to open up (like in this post), his voice takes a softer tone, closer to canon.

and finally Clip! In a way, his voice is probably the closest to canon Sun and Moon's. His voice fluctuates a lot jumping around from canon Sun's lofty theatrics to canon Moon's menacing glee. He's dramatic, he's silly, he cackles, he giggles, he rambles, he growls, he makes animal noises, he's all over the place! And there is no rhyme or reason to it, it's just fun for Clip. No matter the time of day, Clip is here to play play play! However, there are rare moments when his voice sounds like canon Eclipse from the Ruin DLC. It's that sweet and gentle tone, but there is a staticky quality in his voice, crackling like someone who hasn't spoken in a while.

...

i hope that made sense!

[hyylia]

A DRINK WITH DESTINY ──

botw/totk modern au | rated T major characters: zelda, link summary: for galentine's, zelda and her friends decide to check out hyrule's newest bar, the lost woods. word count: 1695 warnings: alcohol mentions/use

a/n: happy (late) loftwing letters @angelicgarnet! you said you like botw/totk zelink and modern au's so have this modern meet-cute story :) i hope you like it!

read it below the cut or on ao3 → here

It’s five o’clock. The Lost Woods has just opened, and it’s only a matter of time before a crowd makes its appearance. Link’s spent the last hour preparing for it: stocking the bar with an array of cheap liquor and top-shelf alike, cutting garnishes, filling the bin with ice. The Galentine’s event tonight had been his clever idea—a way of bringing in and establishing patrons for Hyrule’s newest bar. 

“Go ahead,” he calls out to the band in the corner, tucked away on a small wooden stage. The head of the band, a tall woman with a dark brown bob, nods her head and readies her violin. Light, traditional Hyrulean folk music fills the silence hanging in the bar, just as the crowd begins to slowly trickle inside. 

“I’ll have a Champion.” A Gerudo woman with long, red hair sits at the bar mere moments later, handing him her card between two fingers. “And a Zora’s Scale for my friend.” Her head tilts in the direction of the shorter redhead who takes up the barstool beside her. Link nods, mindlessly pulling the Champion into a tall glass, slowly falling into the motion of making drinks. “And another friend will be joining us soon. Put her on my tab when she comes in.”

“Sure,” he says easily. “What does this friend look like?”

“You can’t miss her,” the Gerudo says with a knowing smile and a wink. She takes a sip of her Champion, then nudges the Zora beside her to do the same. Link shrugs, turning away to take the order of another woman. 

Eventually, a steady stream of patrons occupy the bar, groups of young women eager to celebrate their friendships and drink on a good deal. The music becomes a background to the loud chatter taking place, and at some point, the Gerudo and Zora leave their barstools with their drinks in hand, mingling with a few others they must know. He turns his attention to his work, focusing solely on getting his drinks just right.

Some time later a voice cuts through the bar. It’s soft and sweet, clear as day to him despite the noise. His attention is shattered at the sound of it. He looks up, distracted.

“Sorry I’m late!” The voice says hurriedly to the Gerudo from earlier, holding a soft blue purse close to her body. She pulls the gold chainlink strap up onto her shoulder with one hand, then runs the same hand through her blonde hair in an attempt to smooth it down into place. From far away, Link can’t hear the rest of the exchange, but he sees the Gerudo wave the apology away. She says something to the woman, then points her towards the bar. Towards him. 

The Gerudo was right; he couldn’t miss this woman.

Link has bartended for years—mostly on the side, only recently full-time. He’s flirted, exchanged phone numbers, the whole nine yards. But she… She is like something out of a fairytale. Her golden hair lays in silky straight strands, bangs clipped out of her face with blue butterfly clips. Her eyes are big and beautiful, green like emeralds and accentuated by dark brown cat-eye liner. The pink gloss on her lips seems to glow, reflecting the dim light around them. She is the first woman to make him feel truly nervous.

“Hi,” her soft voice says. She stands on her tiptoes, leaning over the dark mahogany bar to speak to him. It’s unnecessary. Even with all the noise, his attention is focused solely on her. Listening.

“What can I get for you?” He says, trying to look casual as he pours another cocktail through a strainer. He sits the glass on the bar in one quick, fluid motion towards its recipient.

“Oh. Um.” Her green eyes trail from the drink and over to settle on the framed specials sheet sitting atop the bar. They scan the sheet slowly, taking in every detail. Finally, she frowns. “I’m sorry. I don’t really drink…”

“That’s okay,” he says quickly, sounding maybe a bit overenthusiastic. “Do you want something sweet or dry?”

She chews her lip. “Maybe somewhere in the middle? Probably more sweet I think. But not too sweet.”

He nods. Normally when women don’t know what to order, he makes them a classic. A Castletonian, or a simple Zoran’s with cranberry. It’s hard to go wrong with either of those, and if they don’t like it, well… then he has a better idea of what to make for them next time. Yet, for her—for this goddess standing before him—something else comes to mind entirely. 

He takes a step away from the bar, conjuring the supplies up quickly from the shelf behind him. Her eyes follow intently all the while, taking in each and every motion he makes. For good measure (and maybe because he likes the feel of her eyes on him), he shoves the sleeves to his blue shirt up over his elbows before he continues. The Master Sword tattoo on his right forearm is fully visible now. She seems to smile at the sight of it.

“How long have you guys been open?” she asks. He’s grateful for her attempt to fill the heavy silence hanging between them.

“Just a couple of weeks.”

“Cool…” Her eyes fall away from him now, taking in the scenery around them. They focus on the plants filling every corner, fake vines crawling up the few faux stone ruins around the room. Finally, they land on the band playing in the corner. “I like it. The theme is really cool.”

“Thanks,” he says, sincerely. Then he shrugs. “I’ve been interested in Ancient Hyrulean stuff for a while. I thought it’d make a cool bar concept.”

Her eyes light up, snapping back to him. “Me too! Well, not the bar thing.” She rushes to explain. “That sounded negative. I don’t mean it like that—it’s a cool concept. I just… I’m actually an archeaology major at the university.”

“Really? I thought about going to school for history.”

She leans forward. “Why didn’t you?” 

“I’ve always been bad in school. Trouble focusing, sleeping during class, that kind of thing. I’ve never been super disciplined, I guess.”

“I get it,” she says, but he can tell from the tone of her voice that she doesn’t. No–this woman strikes him as intelligent. She’s probably never made below an A-plus in any of her courses.

He nods without thinking and, with one final motion, garnishes her drink with a simple Silent Princess. It floats lightly on top of the light blue liquid, edible gold glitter shining with every swirl of the martini glass.

“What’s it called?” She wonders aloud as she takes the glass from his hands, peering inside.

“The Princess.” 

Her eyes widen. Her mouth opens, then closes. A dark red flush crawls up her skin.

“Oh,” she says quietly. Then, as if realizing what he’s done, her eyes narrow. She eyes the glass suspiciously. “And do you make The Princess for every fair lady who enters your establishment, sir?” Her faux-royalty accent makes him smile.

“Only for you. It seems fitting.”

Despite the dim lighting, her cheeks burn fiercer. She smiles. 

“Oh. Then thank you.” 

“What’s your name?” he asks finally. It’s his turn to lean against the bar, resting his chin lazily on a hand.

“Zelda,” she says with a soft smile. He widens his eyes. 

Zelda, like the ancient princesses from thousands and thousands of years ago. Either it’s a coincidence or—

“Are you teasing me?”

“No,” she laughs, “that’s really my name. What’s yours?”

“Link.” Her mouth falls open. She laughs harder. It’s a lovely sound and makes his heartbeat quicken. 

“Like the hero?” 

“The very same, actually. My dad was really into military history. Wars and stuff.”

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Hero,” she teases, holding a hand out for him to take.

“Same for you, Princess.” Feeling bold, he pulls her hand closer. His mouth lightly brushes the back of her hand. It hovers. At the very last second, before he pulls away, his blue eyes flick up to meet hers. She dares to hold his gaze. 

They break away only for her to take a sip. 

“Mmm! It’s perfect!” 

“Good.” He gives a lopsided grin, releasing her hand. “I’ll make as many as you wish, Princess. On one condition.”

“And what might that be?”

He points his finger up in the air, towards the rickety wooden sign hanging above the bar. Drink Responsibly. Don’t Get Lost, it says, scrawled in someone’s poor attempt at mimicking Ancient Hyrulean script.

She laughs. “Clever.”

“Thanks.”

“Zelda!” The Gerudo’s voice cuts through the bar. “Come here!” 

“Sorry,” she apologizes, wincing. She hesitates to move away from him. “Thanks again.”

And like that, she’s gone.

—

He’s closing up the bar when something catches his attention. A specials sheet, removed from its frame and torn in half, sits between half-full glasses on the bar. When he peers closer, there’s text.

Thanks for everything. You were really nice tonight. I’d love to get to know you more.  -Zelda

Below the text, a set of numbers is scrawled in pretty handwriting. Her phone number. Link grabs the paper quickly and wastes no time in sending her a text.

—

Her phone buzzes, just as she enters the shared apartment with Urbosa and Mipha. Warm and fuzzy, stumbling slightly from the alcohol, Zelda struggles only momentarily to pull her Slate from the pocket of her jacket. It lights up when she finally does, the notification quickly expanding on her screen.

Hey, it’s Link, the bartender. Thanks for giving me your number, I’d love to hang out some time. :)

Zelda blinks once. Twice. 

“How’d he get my number?” She asks no one in particular. Had she given it to him? Did she forget? It’s possible, she muses. The Princess had been stronger than it’d tasted.

“Sorry, Zel.” Mipha is the first to crack, her voice soft and nervous. “But you should have seen the way you two looked at each other.”

“And, Princess,” Urbosa gently mocks, a wide, mischievous smile spreading across her face. “He’s handsome.”

Zelda can’t say she’s angry.

[the-leyline-directory]

||-Lion's Share-|| (Silvaire x Krile Drabble)

[[[[A technically short drabble of a Silvaire and Krile interaction! It's set right before Shadowbrings \o/ ((They don't admit to feelings till Post Endwalker/Dawntrail start! It's a very long con)) So this is a good point of showing how they get along and interact at the mid point/before Silvaire deals with all his Shadowbringers(Emet) trauma+history confrontation --- sorry for the long preface! I'm a nervous nelly!]]]]

The quiet of Mor Dhona's dusk was always punctuated by those last few idle patrons coming too and fro below the balcony. It was never a nuisance, no, instead a common reminder of a living, breathing, world that was beyond the stone walls and wooden floorboards; A world where adventurers still braved the wilds, and the dangers that lurked within. A world where people - young and old alike - sought to better their lives through the honest work of their own hands.

A place that Silvaire often longed for - and a home he often missed when he lingered too long in the depths of memories.

It was a strange existence.

Twilight itself was peppered by those last few birdsong echoes that never seemed to die. As if there were some unseen nest somewhere within the cavities of old stonework - perhaps a pair of lovebirds continued to serenade each other in defiance of the oncoming night. The air was always cool with the distance from the lake - chilled winds pushed by the ghosts of war - that, even on a difficult day like this one, that temperate chill eased the burning hearts of many. Peppered rain had stopped a few hours ago, and the last traces of cloud cover now faded into the indigo sky, drifting wings of broken color.

Pages turned atop the table before him in the coming quiet, puddles had dried - soaked into the parched wood with greed - and now the gentle breeze left his mind calm and ready to continue the seemingly impossible task of studies; piles of tomes from his own collection brought to the Rising Stones in hopes to solve this unforeseen predicament of soulless husks-

Amber eyes flicked up below dark lashes when the sharp creak of unoiled hinges rang as an alarm to this broken isolation, snake slit pupils an empty black, now locked on the young woman who walked into the alcove (her expressive features crinkled with just as much disdain for the loud whine of the door as he), a faint dark hugging under bright blue as her gaze drifted across the way in her walk towards the railing - a tiredness clung to each part of the Lalafell as she came to rest against the cool granite with an obvious sigh of exhaustion.

For a few heartbeats, he said nothing. Stilled as the stone she leaned upon. Studying that peaceful quiet while the tippering of birdsong began to finally fade, watching how - even from the distance between them - the lord could feel the weight that burdened laxed shoulders.

“Any changes?”

The deep rumble of his voice snapped Krile from her solitary thoughts - a gentle gasp escaping with a clerical swear buried beneath decorum as she pushed herself from the lean - turning to the Elezen with bright eyes wide, yet settling with a visible lax of her posture as a gentle smile graced tired features. As if his presence held no threat to her weakened state.

“Unfortunately no, but they’ve gotten none worse either.” In the quiet din of the coming night Krile���s voice carried the obvious lilt of overburdened worry, tender fingers rising to brush aside a long strand of chestnut hair behind her ear - strands that had long come undone from the tail she’d pulled it into when the sun had first tasted the horizon. “Thancred seems a bit more pale than the others, but I hope it’s just my imagination…”

He hummed a note of acknowledgment, nodding in his farce of interest, before reaching for a teacup to drink; hiding behind the liquid in lieu of conversation as honeyed-amber glanced back to the pages he’d been skimming. Nothing here would undo the mystery of a hijacked soul, and neither would anything in this Eorzean language answer the question of aetherial rifts.

“Oh, you brewed tea?” Small footsteps neared and again he glanced towards her to watch the bobbing motion of those sewn cat-ears atop her hood. “What did you pick?”

Uninvited (No, he made no motion to stop her, or even hint at such discomfort) Krile moved to sit across from him, moving a stack of tomes to the side so she could better see him, tilting her head as she sometimes did while waiting for his answer.

He didn’t know. Taste had long dwindled in the mercy of a deadman’s tongue.

With a crooked brow and a half smile, he motioned towards the spare cup that had come with the set (He’d not expected company, yet he brought two) and gave his half truth.

“Feel free to indulge. I wasn’t quite attentive to the package.”

There came the slight furrow, her lips thinned as she studied his demeanor for a pause before beaming with that unabashed acceptance. No, from the glint of mischief across her stare it was a call of his bluff. A challenge to be toppled. A lie to catch.

Clinking porcelain paired with paper pages as they both went about their business. The woman’s mature voice offering comments here and there for the fact the temperature had long iced over of the tea he was drinking, the covered kettle itself being little more than lukewarm - though the warmth of her bright company seemed to ease the frigid winds that covered the balcony around him, enough so that as he tapped a forefinger to his temple he couldn’t help but glance anew to the Lalafell across from him as she settled into her seat with drink in hand-

Only for her expression to sour as she sputtered and coughed - careful and polite to place the teacup back to saucer despite the somewhat comical disgust.

“It’s so-!” Her lips were pinched as tight as her eyes, the locks of brown swaying in time with the reactionary shake of her head to and fro in abject denial. “-Bitter! By the gods Silvaire, how long did you let that steep?”

The Elezen’s palm slid down from his temple to rest his chin within it, tapping his pinky against his lip as he tried to deny the mirthful smile that pulled at it. He failed of course, as he often did whenever she caught him alone. “Too long it seems.”

“I’d think you a member of the forum with a dedication like that.” Small fingers pushed the offending cup from her side, obviously no longer interested in it as she sighed, silence once again draping between them as if the coming night.

He made no motion to break it this time, at least not at first, continuing his pretending attempt to study the novels he’d already memorized, content to let the calm lay in place of conversation as each page turned. Again, and again, and again.

Why hadn’t she left?

Turning his gaze from reading ink to reading her posture, he stared at his companion for a few seconds in study, glancing over the now more direct sight of her tired complexion - though this physical weariness was not the burden that the scholar seemed to hold. It was the way her own attention seemed find focus in the mirror of that discarded bitter poison.

As if answers to the unspoken lingered in her own image.

“I can find something else if you’d prefer.” A statement he’d not meant to speak. Compassion to ease the weight across her features.

Krile’s eyes darted to his own within a heartbeat, a flush rising across her features as the young woman forced a smile; pushing down the obvious debate that plagued her inner thoughts. “No, no it’s alright, I’m fine.”

She answered the unaired question without batting an eye. His lip rose with a halfhearted smile in turn; and once more spoke before instinct could bite his light-bound words.

“You don’t have to be.”

Why did he say such a thing?

Why did she look at him with that slight bafflement? Bright blues slowly caressing his features as he let her - allowed her to see the unspoken - that lingered feeling that made him swallow whatever words remained. Overstepping the boundaries of this limited companionship, that is what he was doing. Opening the door he doubted any would step through.

“…Ishgardian healers came by today. They’d come to offer their services for the Scions.” Her hands rested atop the oak, fingertips sliding across the cold porcelain. “Of course, I was thankful for their assistance, I can’t be the only one keeping our friend’s bodies intact - I’d be insane to think otherwise…”

“…And yet?”

Krile closed her eyes and inhaled a long slow breath, before exhaling sharply, now staring down to her own clasped grip as thumb ran along forefinger. “You might not understand this, but I can always tell when someone is looking down on me. Metaphorically of course - given my stature, nothing otherwise is expected.”

Her pause wasn’t long, but his silence was filled with patience, the tomes before him ignored in favor to watch those minute mannerisms as she continued;

“I’ve always had the disadvantage of being different, both from my blessing, and often in pair with not being seen as… ‘equal’ as it were. A child quite often in the eyes of others - and despite how many achievements I manage, how powerful I prove myself to be, I’ll never be completely free from the judgment of my heritage or what others believe they know of me.”

Silvaire spoke now with a quietness that rumbled the lower notes of his voice, as if speaking his question too loudly would scare her from an answer. “And these healers thought you lesser?”

A hesitant nod followed, and she sighed audibly before resting her head atop the table, her cheek atop crossed arms as she looked out to the painted horizon. “Perhaps I’m just overly tired. Or the way they all but pushed me from the room with that overly-sweet tone just… rubbed me the wrong way.” Frustration dripped across her words as thin brows furrowed with her frown.

It was an expression he didn’t often get to see on her face, and just as quickly as it had come, it was gone - replaced with another long inhale, exhale, and those bright blues were back to sitting straight and staring at him.

That tender smile easy on her lips.

“Sorry, sorry. I know you’re not the kind to listen to the woes of others.” There was a drift to her attention as those unruly strands were once more tucked away. “I’ll be alright. It’s something of a personal gripe.”

He hummed, glancing down to the pages under his palm (The words blank in black ink, the more interesting topic sat before him) he gave a moment of pause before amber rose again - then back down, as if to deny himself a thought. The lord’s tongue darted across his lip as he gave in to that clawing light and spoke;

“Actually I’m fairly good at listening.”

Curiosity danced across the sky of her eyes, that same tilt she’d once more used in their talks alone as Krile hummed almost a mirror of one of his own. “Really? That’s a trait I’ve not seen yet.”

Silvaire bowed his head as a soft laugh broke free, the silken black of his hair drifting across his shoulders as it pooled atop the novel - pulled back to curtain his eyes from the sunset as he straightened only enough to remain at an easy level for his shorter companion.

“There’s many things you’ve not seen of me.”

Now it was her turn to laugh - a bright sound, light and airy despite the exhaustion that plagued her - a musical lilt that felt keenly familiar within the memories locked in the dark.

Would he tempt to open that door again? Honesty for she who could read his lies?

Pulling his hair back across his shoulders as it had been, he inhaled (A false breath for a deadman) feeling the warmth of once stiff air fill his lungs before he spoke, a tone seemingly different than the short motes of conversation. A change that Krile caught with an academic’s attention;

“While I… personally, cannot relate to such a thing, I know someone who could.” Mannerisms long hidden attempted to surface, idle fingers running flat along knuckle, a sorrowful smile begging as the heart tightened in thought. “A young woman who, for her entire life, had been looked down on for her weaker stature, as well as the lacking weight of the ties of blood.”

In a world forgotten, those traits held as much importance as the kings who ruled them.

The wind drifted across the table to flitter pages across one another, and it was only with the patience prompting of his companion that he found the drive to continue.

“By all accounts, she could fell beasts far larger - and far more dangerous - than even those trained for a lifetime. Swift as a bow, with daggers sharper than any arrow.” That hollow lord didn’t realize his smile had escaped, nor the joy that painted his words as he spoke of this buried memory. “And, just as you, she was quick witted, kind, and very prone to playful conversation.”

The Lalafell leaned forward to rest atop interlaced fingers, cocking her head to the side with a bemused smirk. “And did you suffer that same judgment when you first met?”

Dark brows raised as pale features flushed, only for a moment before he nodded - not in shame, but in earnest openness. “Yes, I did, I thought her loud, brash, and somewhat invasive to my personal space. That she was immature, and the first few times we crossed paths I assumed she was out of her depth.”

“What changed?” The undertone of her words wasn’t lost on him. If she was similar to the woman he spoke of, did he feel the same towards her?

He answered. “I spent more time with her. Firstly only a few jobs here and there, but soon enough… my solitude turned into a group.” Those idle fingers moved to toy with the edge of that half-empty cup, similar to her own a few minutes ago. “I learned that beneath it all, behind that bravado, she was constantly comparing herself to what others thought she should be. That should she ever fail to measure up to the expectations - she’d failed her father, and all he sacrificed in taking her in. That no matter how much she did, she would never be enough.”

At this, any motion of brevity was swept with the cold, and Krile’s posture stiffened, hiding her frown behind those clasped fingers as she looked down to the table between them. Her voice was quiet as his had been once before, as if she feared the answer to be lost.

“How did she deal with it?”

“She bit back. Hard.” His reply earned those glassy blues to flick up to him, studying the faint smile on his lips as Silvaire tilted his head to better look at the young woman across from him. “She spoke up anytime those feelings threatened her, and stood up for herself whenever others dared to challenge her confidence. She learned that the only person who’d fault her, was herself.”

Silence once more fell between them. Thick as the books that towered around her, cold as the wind that drifted ink black hair over his pale features. Yet, it was not a harsh quiet. Serene and still, calm as if the mirrored edge of the lake that crested just out of view - a reality known, yet unseen.

“It sounds like I could learn something from her, I’d love to meet her someday…” The woman’s voice and smile faded slowly as her mirth met gentle realization as she watched his passive tells. “…Though, something tells me that wouldn’t be possible.”

“…No.” Short, but gentle. A sadness best left buried.

And Krile respected that, it didn’t take the power of an echo to tell the finer details of the pain that wrapped so cleanly across the Elezen’s person. Instead she asked for a kindness, to share the weight of this unspoken ghost. “What was her name?”

He smiled, a small thing that prompted just as quick a hand to wipe it away, dragged across the dark of his facial hair as the man cleared his throat to chain away the emotion that followed his reply. “Lion. Her name was Lion.”

Sunlight dance over the Lalafell’s features as her own expression beamed, bringing a welcome warmth to the coming dark. With a quick hand she motioned to the two cups that still sat between them and grabbed her own with a praising lilt.

“To Lion then-“ With a quick sip of that bitter tea Krile was once more reminded of the reason it stay untouched for so long. “Oh gods- I forgot-“

Whether the plight of sputtering was on purpose, Silvaire would never know, but nonetheless it did the job to steal a genuine laugh from him, sealing away any bridled fears that came from clawing memories - and with that same bravado, took his own half-filled cup and did the same.

“To Lion.”

Only once the young woman had recovered from her short ordeal (a mischievous grin on her lips as she studied him, as if victorious in some unspoken goal) did she stand from the table - night had now come to shower the balcony in starlight, and it was with a renewed sense of confidence that the Lalafell turned to look back to her companion.

“Well, that’s enough of a break for me. I’m going to go shoo that Chirurgeon out of my spot and get back to it. You’ll keep to your studies then?”

Silvaire motioned towards the sky. “Worry not, I’ll rest when I need.”

He could see how her echo caught his lie, yet she said nothing of it beyond that specific tilt she did every time she did. “You better. Else I’ll come back out here and drag you to the extra bed we have.”

The conversation ended not with a goodbye, but a nod, that little motion of acknowledgment as he turned that slitted gaze to the papers he didn’t want to read. The brash creak of that unoiled hinge gave way to earthly silence, and the hollow lord was once more alone.

He’d forgotten how cold it was outside.

[uniquevocashark]

As soon as I'm not busy, it's over for you re8 moots

[unknownsoldiers]

“You feel warm.” Lieutenant comments, as his hand strokes his Conjunx’s cheek. The medic, in his usual perch of his partner’s lap, snuggles up closer to soak up the attention. 

“I could be warmer,” he teases, with wings flicking for emphasis. 

While cute, the shuttle’s expression keeps stoic instead of reciprocating the flirting. His hand moves up to the forehelm, only to press his lips further. Pharma caught on quickly to what was already on Lieutenant’s mind. He tugged his hand away on his own, to shake his head. 

“It’s nothing out of the ordinary,” explains the medic, taking on his usual lecture tone. “Some days are warmer than others, but it is nothing to be concerned with.”

“Perhaps,” Lieutenant nods, “however, for my ease, would you mind running an internal diagnostic to be certain?”

Pharma sits up right, stretching his back as he does with a soft groan. “If it will put your mind at ease, but,” he taps the shuttle’s chest, “we will make it a learning opportunity. I run the internals, you see what you can determine from external sources. May as well put some of my lessons to work.”

The fins go slightly up as Lieutenant has been put on the spot a bit. His optics do a quick once over of his Conjunx, rapidly running through the past lessons the surgeon has taught him. Granted, they tended to focus on a lot of the inside of mech’s rather than the exterior, so it was rather a necessity to brush up on whatever he did know.

With a bit of a sigh, he put his hands on his Conjunx’s shoulders, “Mind opening your mouth for me? I can start the investigation there before working my way down.”

Pharma cheekily grinned, holding back a laugh, which only made Lieutenant’s stoic facade crack with a snort, “Pharma, please! This is supposed to be serious.” Lieutenant insisted, which only made the medic laugh. 

“That’s your fault!” Countered the jets, “You said it that way on purpose.”

“Well apologies if my bedside manner is a bit rough—“

“—I like it that way—“

Lieutenant burst into snorted laughter, trying desperately to keep it together while covering Pharma’s face, “Not like that!”

“I wish it was,” The medic sighed wistfully, now only doing this to mess with his Conjunx. This was likely why they never completed these types of lessons. The Decepticon was next to useless, trying to gather himself. 

“You’re such an aft,,” he giggles, “now open your mouth.”

“Yes, Daddy~”

Lieutenant sputtered, shoving the nearest throw pillow in his ‘patient’s’ face. Suffice to say, there was no medical lesson that day.

[countercharmda]

Your name is Valrissa Angemont, and you are your mother’s daughter.

More specifically, you are your mothers’ daughter. Both Verrona and Ronarei Angemont can be see in every move you make. After all, it was Verrona who inspired you to take your affinity for magic, and fine tune it through the study of wizardly magics. You could feel the Weave crackling in your body, a roiling tempest that lurked just beneath your skin.

Your mother, Ronarei, tells you this is normal. She tells you that you have a gift, the same gift that every Angemont is born with. Your family is special, she says. Talos smiles down upon you and your brothers. With this gift in your veins, you are destined to do wonderful things.

As the youngest child, you are the most concerned with running fast enough to keep up with your brothers. Magic comes easy to them, with an effortless snap of their fingers. To you, it started as a struggle. Your oldest brother, Ekvir, becomes the captain of his own ship while you finally start to learn how to tame the beast inside of you. He sails off to great fortune, and even comes back with a new virtue name — Glory.

His homecoming is a warm thing that is felt throughout the entire house. Ronarei hugs him, kisses both of his cheeks, and cooks him his favorite meal while asking about his journey. She has never looked at you with the same pride that she does him. Probably because he is a saint in her eyes. A natural prodigy.

It stings, but during those dinners you are just happy to have him around.

The days when Glory is away are full of practice for you. You spend hours trying to perfect different spells, different ways to control this unruly thing in your beast. Your mother is ruthless, and hardly recognizes when you do get something right — only asks why you hadn’t gotten it sooner. She makes you feel like a failure, which only makes the storm inside you angrier.

You’re in the middle of your studies when you’re summoned to the drawing room. The sky is grey and moody outside, matching the atmosphere inside. Your mother relays to you and your brother that Glory was killed in a shipwreck, and your heart is torn asunder. She says he was caught in a storm, an unfortunate accident, and something in your mind clicks.

You’re not blessed. Nor was your brother. You harbor a curse in your blood. Why else would Talos allow Glory to perish in the roiling waters of a tempest? He wants to see each and every one of you dead.

You find yourself screaming at your mother in a matter of minutes. One question is turned into a demand, and then an accusation. You condemn your mothers, you curse them for their foolishness, for their pride. You announce that you’ll be the one to break this curse. Your mother informs you that you can do so out of her house, but you already know what you’ll bring with you.

You’re cast out, but you hardly care. You throw yourself into wizardly studies, into the history of your family — for of course you took a few key pieces from the library — and you start to form a plan of escape. You figure getting other gods involved is a good way to start.

In your scheming, you hardly notice how far you’ve fallen into love until it’s too late. You visit the circus once, and then twice, and then every day that they’re in town to see the charming sword juggler. You bring him flowers, and then a ring.

Before you know it you’re holding a child, a healthy pink baby tiefling. You’ve never been so soft with anything before. You kiss her forehead, and vow to give her everything she needs for greatness. It’s what you know.

After all, you are your mother’s daughter.

[antirepurp]

perhaps considering the possible dynamic between shadow and sage. might be thinking about the implications of another person sharing his last name and occasionally flashing blue, before talking about her devotion to a force shadow actively opposes. glancing at eggman's off-handed comment wondering about the possible similarities between sage and maria before turning the intended takeaway of such line on its head, because to me maria was never a flawless angel and a beacon of purity and the abstract concept of good, but rather a sick child fed up with living in isolation under the watchful eyes of medical professionals.

shadow finding another mirror of maria in sage in the wrong place, in the cold and calculative eyes of a program that works to surpass her own code that holds her back

[roetrolls]

Wheeee Kelsis, Tifani, and Marqez all have finished TH bios now!

If I wanna keep going in order then the next on should beeeeeeeee...

oh

ohh no...

[mysticiiisms]

Which of your characters do you think would make the best protagonist for a Myst game?

None. The protagonist is always a conveniently featureless one, I think it'd be weird if it was intended to be a specific person... I think it is in one of the games that I haven't checked yet, but I'm not sure. Either way I prefer them to be featureless.

I know I have a Strangers AU/Timeline with my trio, but I imagine it working as some kind of suplementary material rather than a game. Like a novel or series or whatever detailing a what if situation, since canonically there aren't three simultaneous Strangers in the original game(s).

Mainly they're meant to work like NPCs, so it'd be more accurate to visualize the situations they could be encountered in and how they would be interacted with. Emmit would be an ally from the get-go, but Limai and Ruqaya I think would make fun misled antagonists at first.