#aforementioned current systems

[mithliya]

prev anon and i'm going to say again: they can campaign and/or register green to get green on the ballot in their state. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Third_party_and_independent_candidates_for_the_2024_United_States_presidential_election

if you feel like it's useless then work for a different option.

im interested if someone knows more about this process bc i actually didnt even know that they wouldnt show the 3rd party options in all states & its really nice to know that there is sth people can do about it but im curious what exact actions they should take in that case. but i do agree that ultimately if ppl want change then theyll need to work for it somehow, ppl should stop accepting this awful sophie's choice situation and do sth about it instead of reinforcing it with the voter shaming

[chery1bery1]

The website for all of the bomb factories being listed in this video below:

The engineers, rocket scientists, metalworkers working there would've been building better subjects if they weren't hired into making BOMBS FOR ISRAEL TO KILL INNOCENT PALESTINIANS. Some of these factories listed there can be a part of normal everyday things and those kinds of people have jobs , but there are offices and factories across every state that are from weapon companies, great people that are in the aforementioned topics above shouldn't be working with a company that makes WEAPONS. Go find and boycott the factories that are making the bombs for Israel, not the ones that are making other things aside from bombing.

A quote from this video:

"The people who are protesting weapons factories aren't against people having jobs or feeding families. They are against a system which forces people to make weapons in order to feed their families."

[txttletale]

hello...what is this "eidolon playtest". i thought it was perhaps some kind of MTG since you like that and "playtest" but then i keep seeing like.....random character art. is this a tabletop thing. is it mtg and i just dont understand mtg. i know i can probably google this but jt seems like something you wnjoy and id like to hear you talk about it :^)

eidolon playtest is an actual play series in which the creators of the ttrpg 'eidolon: become your best self' and their friends -- as the name implies -- playtest aforementioned TTRPG. it has a pretty interesting format in which the same GM runs two separate campaigns for two different parties which slowly become more and more intertwined until they start crossing over directly. so far they have two pairs of campaigns finished, eidolon POP and ROCK (seasons 1 & 2) and eidolon SKA and DISCO (seasons 3 & 4), and season 5 (eidolon VGM and EDM) currently ongoing. they also have a couple of short mini-campaigns of 3-4 sessions each, which i'm not going to list all of because there's a lot.

eidolon playtest is really good for so many reasons i can't possibly provide a comprehensive account but here's some:

the tables are really, really good at taking something and running with it. the number of goofy, seemingly one-off jokes that get called back to and built up and end up becoming extremely serious and plot-critical has to be in the double digits by now

there is very much a lack of... for want of a better word 'preciousness' to the play -- like, one of the things i really don't like about dimension 20 is that because there is an entire production staff making all these little minis and sets, right, there is an investment and a need to put the money in front of the camera, it's basically impossible for e.g. combat encounters to be skipped or for anything to go too 'off the rails'. meanwhile in eidolon everyone will get excited when someone pulls a fucking insane plan out of nowhere that radically reshapes an encoutner, or when someone rolls/draws badly and something awful happens -- i fucking love that kind of play, where everyone is excited to see cool shit happen whether it's bad or good, and the eidolon playtest team do it really well

the characters are really good and bounce off each other really well. something i commented recently is that i love diska for the fact thaqt nonoe of the players are afraid to have their character just be a huge cunt sometimes. every campaign has some amount of interpersonal drama and it always seems like the players are really excited to have it, too. there are conflicts, some get resolved, some don't, some spiral into irreconcilable differences, some pave the way for extremely close bonds.

eidolon, the system (especially the 2e version that's used for diska onwards) is a great system which encourages fun and cool things to happen. every character has a jojo-style extremely specific power, which means that fights aren't boring slogs of people rolling dice (i hate combat in actual plays that use wargames, lol, even games with well-balanced combat systems that are fun to play often make horrible audio) but instead wacky and consistently dramatic encounters where the players make clever and creative use of their powers to take on a freak-of-the-week

the cast is just really damn good! i mentioned how the characters on all the shows have ineresting and complex dynamics, but even apart from that there's just so many characters on this show that i'm genuinely attached too, so many memorable and interesting pcs and npcs.

the show is funny as fuck!! constant laugh out loud bits throughout every campaign, often alongside the extremely heartfelt or dramatic ones. i've been refernecing a bit from eidolon disco so much recently it's been driving oen of my gfs crazy (you can buy rat poison for free at the store)

i, yknow, go back and forth on whether to mention this when recommending it bc i'm sure that the eidolon playtest folks don't, like, want to be pigeonholed as A Trans Podcast or whatever, but, like, when it feels like every AP podcast that advertises itself or is advertised as 'super queer' is like, two cis gay people and maybe one transmasc if you're lucky at an otherwise super cishet table -- it is such a breath of fresh air to listen to an actual play with a legit preponderance of transfem and nonbinary players playing all kinds of trans and queer characters.

tldr: its like homestuck but good

[thydungeongal]

what’s your group currently playing, or if you don’t have a game going atm, what’s the last one you played/ran?

I have multiple groups actually, and juggling between them is a bit of a hassle but we manage. I'm currently playing Break!! with one group and I've been really enjoying it! It very much is like what if someone made an old-school D&D style classic adventure RPG but with cleaner modern presentation and lots of JRPG and anime influences!

I'm also running an open table Old-School Essentials game which thus far has had me running the two first-level dungeon crawls published for it, The Incandescent Grottoes and The Hole in the Oak. Been having a really good time with it!

I have another open table where I'm running Rolemaster Classic. Admittedly I had very ambitious plans for this one but they never quite materialized, but instead of beating myself over the head about it I've just settled into a sort of a simple episodic pattern with little continuity. It has been a lot of fun introducing a bunch of people to this silly game that I love.

I'm also a player in a friend of mine's D&D 5e campaign and like it's alright. Most of the fun in that game comes out of me getting to hang out with my friends and to be fair the system itself doesn't bring a lot to the table. Which is why I'm trying to draw that group in with the lure of something like Mythras after we finish that game. Currently that game is on hiatus though because too many of the people involved straight and keep having babies and stuff, which is very inconsiderate of them.

I'm also preparing to run Valiant Quest for some of my fellow internet girlies and I'm really looking forward to it. :)

The last one I played though was Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy at the @anim-ttrpgs indie TTRPG bookclub (you can find the link in their pinned post) and it was as fun as Eureka always is. Admittedly we had picked a scenario for the club game that sadly didn't really end up utilizing most of Eureka's strengths, it was mostly just a spooky scenario with very little actual investigation involved. The fact that it was originally written for Call of Cthulhu kind of shone through in the fact that the scenario itself wasn't prepared for investigators who could actually find leads instead of having to be led by the nose. But that is all on the scenario: the system was fun to play with again, our group was fantastic, and our Narrator really did an amazing job with an admittedly flawed scenario! I loved playing it despite those aforementioned flaws in the scenario. :)

[visenyaism]

hi visenyaism, sorry i know this is mainly an asoiaf blog but I loved your literacy & kids in school analysis and i had a question. idk if you're familiar with the "male flight" from college substack article making the rounds on tumblr (tldr: the author takes the thesis of this sociological paper that men stopped enrolling in vet school once women enrollment hit 60% and suggests that it could explain why men's enrollment in college generally has fallen bc women's enrollment has now hit that 60% threshold & men, or well, straight men, want to avoid anything deemed too feminine) and I was wondering if you've also noticed that men / boys tend to devalue going to college and generally had any thoughts on this phenomenon?

Hm. Here’s the article if you haven’t read it:

I agree with her about a lot. I think a lot of it really is that we beat into young girls’ heads from the start that you need to work hard and become financially and professionally independent because of you don’t you will be dependent on and taking care of a man forever. But boys are way more likely to get the “don’t worry you will find someone to take care of you no matter what it is what you deserve” message. I have noticed a rise of this anti-college intellectualism particularly in young men that it is a scam and that even if you get a job, it’s gonna be like the beginning of fight club where it’s like super emasculating to do that because you’re following the system. 

I can tell you it’s a common phenomenon in high schools that honors classes are disproportionately female and standard level classes are disproportionately male. Some of it is just outperformance (which I think is the aforementioned messaging difference and also just because I think we hold young women to a higher standard academically and behaviorally and they react accordingly.) I have talked to male students who have insinuated that performing well in school is kind of girly because it’s like being submissive.

The messaging facing young men that going to college is overrated because that kind of 9-to-5 white collar job you’re supposed to get as a result is inherently kind of feminine or cuck or beta or whatever is common. Of the group of students not going to college after they graduate I think girls are in my experience more likely to have a plan like they’re joining the military or they’re going to trade school or they’re going to community college or taking a year off. Whereas boys Are more likely to have that mentality that they’re gonna become an influencer or a day trader or crypto whatever or a twitch streamer because that’s more alpha than following the system. I think a lot of our anti-intellectualism in society is a result of this messaging that going to college is now girly.

What I really hate is when people point at high levels of women enrolling in college as evidence that the system is rigged in favor of women which has never been true and is not true currently. I feel like “male flight” is not a complete answer, but it is definitely more comprehensive of an explanation than a lot of the other ones I’ve heard.

[hoseoksluna]

ICHOR | jjk

pairing: idol!boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.4k

summary: after a bad day at work, you lose a sense of yourself and jungkook leads you right back to her.

warnings: crying, capitalism, death metaphors, sadness, jungkook is sweaty and is wearing that nike shirt he wore in his working out live, has fluffy hair!

note: hiii, bubbas, so this is fluff fic is partly for @frmisnow bc she inspired me to write this & i also want to make her feel better with this sacchariny-sweet jungkook, partly for me bc i genuinely wrote in detail about what i went through at work these past two days. and, also, for all you guys because i made you go through reading about such evil jungkook in my last berries fic. i hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think. here's to a bit of happiness in our lives *cheers with an imaginary glass of imaginary pink, glittery, strong, fairy alcohol*. <3

You used to be a goddess, the ichor in your veins carried the color of roses, glinted with flecks of gold that would radiate your skin from beneath, make any heads turn, especially the one you loved the most. Customers at work smiled upon seeing your cordial aura, close-knit even though they were mere strangers, preferred to go to you amidst the flock of your other colleagues around. They would become radiated just the same, joy so terribly evident on their faces as their smile would grow. They would frown upon seeing the state of you at this current moment—curled up on your bed while the heat of the beginning of the summer clings to your near bareness, coming through your wide opened windows, the white, translucent curtains billowing up and down in their strange, but magnolious dance. 

You’re not Aphrodite. You’re not Euphrosyne, the goddess of joy and mirth, either. 

You’re the slain fawn at their feet—for their very own feast and for the feast of those aforementioned customers, who stand behind the dryly bloodied cause of your death. 

Work was hell, to say the least. 

You always thought death was a kind embrace, not a tight clasp of doom around the nape of your neck, your mental strain and disquietude the half moon marks that ever so slowly deepen. You mimic the movement on the hem of the linen shirt you wore for the day, one that you were too drowsy to take off when you arrived at home, having only a slight wisp of an energy to rid yourself of the uncomfortable tightness of your jeans and crawl onto your bed, knees to chest, on your side. You bunch up the fabric in your fist, wrinkling it, but you hardly vanquish the cuts that your anxiety slashes on your skin. You thought it would alleviate you of your tenseness, but as it seems—it only worsened it. 

You don’t even have tears to shed. Wept them all out in your manager’s office while she harshly, yet calmly reprimanded you for your mistake and the gravity of the fact that you almost lost your precious job, that you can’t imagine living without, washed over you and pained you like a splash of salty water in your eyes. Wept them all out when you breathed in the crooked, paralyzed expression of disappointment in her face—and that’s the sole thing that emptied out your system of that ichor, wiped out your reputation of being a good, reliable employee that everybody liked. 

Now the next unfolding of your days spent at work shall be filled with silent judgements and secretive gossip, the big talk of the entire building—something that will hang by the strands of your hair for every head to turn to until something else comes along. Another topic, another fuck-up. That’s the face of modern capitalism, the absurdity of day-to-day normalcy its features, and you’re so sick, so repulsed to be staring at it every single day of your life that you yearn to not be anymore. 

Death has flattened over you, but has not finished its job. It was Dante who described the process of hell in his Divine Comedy and you hate him for the rotten pulchritude of his mind because you find yourself to be standing in the middle of inferno with no guide—no Virgil, no Beatrice—to hold your hand and lead you through this scalding maze. You’re all alone, your mistake carving the branches of the trees burning down in your hell over your burdened, heavy heart that has been longing for the company of another ever since you walked out of your manager’s office. 

Your face screws as another agonized emotion rises in you. You can’t stand your aloneness, can’t stand your burden—and before you realize what you’re doing, your fingers have already tapped on your boyfriend’s name in your history of calls. The screen of your phone is cool against the fever of your cheek and you rub your face harder against your duvet, staining the strawberry pattern with the particular tinge of your makeup, which must have been the color of your ichor. 

You wince, the rings prolonging in your ear, your impatience running thin. 

Then, your heart drops once you hear the broken whisper of your Beatrice, faintly, barely, which causes your heart to spread its longing. Damn iPhones and their bad service. 

“Jungkook?” you call out, nonsense coming through the other end—and you repeat his name until his voice smooths out, relief sinking in like a stone in a pond. 

It turns out you were exchanging each other’s names and the intimacy of it curls the smallest of smiles on your mouth. You miss him; you need him. 

“When are you coming home?” you ask, wishing to descend into the emitting waves of the call, slide through them until you spring to wherever he is, no matter how tired you are—you’re willing to cross the distance. 

You hear him turn on his blinker and your heart almost does it for you. 

“I’m driving home right now. I’ll be there in ten,” he says and your relief expands in your chest, taking a small weight off of your heart. You place your palm against it. 

“Okay.” 

A beat of silence. 

“Why do you sound so sad?” 

Your mouth curls downwards. “Something happened at work.” 

An inhale of breath. “Screw that, baby. I’ll be there in five, okay?” 

A whimper. “Okay, drive safe.” 

And your Beatrice didn’t lie to you. Soon, you hear the banging of the front door closing, the tossing of his keys and the prodding open of your shared bedroom door. The hastened footsteps, hefty on the floating floor, the squeak of the mattress as his knee dips on it and the glide of his hand up your thigh. All before you use the last of your strength to focus your swimming vision on him. 

Hearing him alone helped you take a step further in your inferno. 

And then you can smell him. The scent of sweat clinging to his favorite ivory Nike shirt, interlaced with his natural, poetic scent, creating something divine that blesses you with the strength to place your palm on top of his hand. Your coworkers hugged you earlier, clasped your hands in theirs in reassurement and more than welcome it, you absolutely despised it. Lingered in their affection only because you thought you should let yourself be consoled, for you know they care about you. But his touch… that’s not something you sense your body to want to run away from. On the contrary, it seems to be something that it’s missing. 

You can’t part the stream of your new tears with your other hand. 

You spill, completely. 

Jungkook coos, squeezing the bare flesh of your thigh as turns you onto your back and nudges himself between them, plopping his body on top of yours. And then, he’s kissing the place your undone shirt made for him, trailing his lips up your neck, where he stays, where he conjures a garden of fluttering gardenias, their tender petals tickling you. 

“What did they do to my princess?” he murmurs against your skin, his words muffled but heard clearly by your ears. You sob, your chest shuddering in violent staccatos against his, unable to settle, unable to speak. Jungkook lifts his small head and frowns, his thumb swiping your tears away while the rest of his four fingers cradle your cheek. You lean into the balmy safety of the realm of his palm, gaze fixed on the wrinkle between his brows, mouth letting out puffs of soft, gentle exhales. He kisses your chin, the corner of your mouth, the wetness of your other cheek—buries his nose into it, right beside yours, inhaling you, giving you fresh air to breathe in. “Don’t cry. I’m gonna decapitate them.” 

The whisper, the hand that parted the stream. You whimper and he steals the traces of your despondency, pecking the new, smooth surface, planting roses to bloom, its roots bestowing you with the ability of speech. 

Two sentences, two miles further in the inferno. Your burnt down trees are lost in the far distance, swallowed by the fire, yet the forest shows every sign of growing anew the longer Jungkook’s heart beats against your breast. 

He’s so benevolently patient with you, not rushing you with your explanation. It all the more drives you to disclose it to him—and you open your mouth to speak, your fingers following suit, helping you with your words as you drag them through the soft mop of his fluffy hair. 

“I made a mistake yesterday while closing up,” you croak out, licking your lips. Jungkook lifts himself onto his elbows, clutching your shoulders, keeping the close proximity intact. His warm grip is a stability you lean on, one you appreciate with every broken shard in you. “I did it five minutes earlier and somebody came in. I sent them away and they filed a complaint against me. They wrote an email to my manager and I… I almost lost my job.”

The wrinkle between his brows deepens and you thumb it, wishing it away. You don’t want to mar his beautiful face because of your foolishness; you want it to remain that soft ball of light that he always is, but then you realize you’re asking for the impossible. His mouth flattens, pity flashes across his round eyes, which helps you perceive that if he didn’t react like this, he wouldn’t love you—and his love is the air you breathe; his love is the ointment you need for your sadness. 

As if he heard you, he kisses you delicately and you sail—skip the purgatory and land in paradiso, a meadow of wildflowers overlooking a cliff that opens the restfulness of the sea, scattered with windswept petals of those lost blossoms, coloring the surface with pinks, whites and the greens of their leaves. 

“Did your manager yell at you?” Jungkook questions, his lips lifted a millimeter above yours, his thumbs fondling the fabric of your shirt upon your shoulders. 

“No, but she was very strict with me. Told me not to cry—”

His breath wafts over your face when he looks into your eyes, displeased. “She made you cry?” 

You cried because through her words you comprehended the gravity of your mistake and its repercussions, not because she deliberately used them to open the dam of your emotions. It’s precisely why she told you not to cry, giving you a hint of her perpetually nonexistent compassion. And you tell him. 

“No, she didn’t. She was very professional with me and made me realize what I did after I apologized. I cried because I was so scared of losing my job, of disappointing her and shit like that.” 

Jungkook purses his lips, shaking his head, curly strands rippling like the tremor of leaves. “She should’ve dropped it after you apologized. Five minutes is nothing, baby. You did nothing to deserve to be treated like that.” 

Your chest heaves, his love and reassurement sifting sand into your bloodstream, the color of ichor. “I know but… you know,” you trail off, indicating the realm of respect all peers must have for the management that you don’t really want to venture into, not when Jungkook had to deal with it as well in his music company. But unlike you, he broke out of its clutches. It cost him tears, frustration and weight loss, but now he’s a free bird of paradise. You don’t wish to make him remember his cage. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah, baby, I know, which is why I’m telling you that you didn’t deserve that.” 

Your chin quivers, the negative thoughts that wore you down in his absence returning at full speed. “It affects my mental health when I’m bad at my job.” 

Brows rounding upwards, his eyes flick to your chin, a glossy wetness coating them. He pecks it before he gazes into your irises. “But you’re not bad at your job. You just closed a few minutes earlier. You’re amazing at your job. You make people happy. I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” he says, meaning every word with the way he presses each one into your pupils. You feel its magnetism and you take it. “And I’m proud of you. Every day. You work so hard. Come home tired every day. Deal with people who aren’t always nice to you with kindness that I envy. I’m proud of you, you hear me? You didn’t make a mistake. You did good.”

And there it is, the stampede of your bloodstream—Jungkook has seeped the entirety of the sand until he emptied out his hand and your ichor charges forward, its light like a bud flaring open beneath your skin. And you're floating on that sea in paradiso, your braid adorned with the wet petals that swims back and forth to his arm that holds your body steady upon the surface, the names of the Greek goddesses lining every perimeter, sinking within. 

You’ve become them, all over again. 

“Thank you, Ggukie,” you whisper, running your hand through the front bangs of his hair, gripping them. It’s as if you’re holding the petals. “I needed to hear that.” 

He pouts, touched by the love name. “I know. You need to rest now after such an emotionally exhausting day. No more tears, okay?” 

You nod, feeling whole, feeling like you can face tomorrow with more courage. “Okay.” 

You pout, mimicking him, asking for a kiss and he gives it to you in that same delicate manner, plunging the entirety of the summer’s heat, molded by his hands, into you, making it bearable for you. 

Looks at you for a long time, after. Smiling. 

“You know, I didn’t take a shower after the gym for you,” he says, quirking a smile on your face.

You’re intimately acknowledged with the reason why, yet still you ask: “Why’s that?” 

He reciprocates the smile. “I thought you’d help me wash up. My muscles are sore and all. I lifted the double amount of your body weight.” 

You bite your lip. You’re willing to wash every inch of him with your utmost care. You deem he deserves it for enlivening you, but you’d much rather stay here, inhaling that dizzying scent of him. 

“I’ll do that, but let’s stay here for a little while.” 

Jungkook nods, kissing your jaw before he finds a comfortable place on your bosom, listening to the rush of your ichor, the sun rays upon the sea of that paradiso, inching you closer and closer to God. Augments the ending of that Divine Comedy. 

Doesn’t lead you to the final installment of death, but pushes you to life full of that brisk wind, the humming of the sea and the song of swaying wildflowers. 

Holds your hand. 

Doesn’t let go. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

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[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Riptide

Pairing: Twilight x Reader

Warning(s): Smut and very brief mentions of drowning

Notes: Commissioned by the wonderful and amazing @bellamyers2043. Hope you enjoy! <33

Masterlist

It started with Wild, because, really, when didn't things start with the Champion?

You yawned, stretching your arms over your head, twisting your spine just enough to ease the steady ache that had been building since the group headed out this morning.

A warm hand laid itself on your shoulder, and Twilight's country baritone rumbled in your ear as he joined you by the grove. Time had called for a rest a few minutes ago, leaving you temporarily unoccupied. "Tired, darl'?"

You turned to face him, hands resting on the curve of your hips, grin threatening to split your face. It was always a pleasure to talk to him, not that you were going to admit it. "Not on your life, Rancher."

He laughed, a rumbling sound that rolled through the air like thunder, and patted you with a gentleness you'd sworn you'd only seen the Ordon goats receive. "Jus' don't wear ya'self out, you hear? Not that 'm opposed ta carryin'--"

"First of all, rude," you stuck your tongue at him, moving your arms to cross over your chest. "And second of all, I've got legs, you know."

Twilight's eyes sparkled and you immediately cursed every choice that had led you up to giving him ammunition for those Hylia-awful dad jokes. "Ah might've noticed; here 'n Ordon we've got these helpful things called eyes."

"Har har," you rolled your aforementioned eyes, reaching over to flick his chest. "Now that you've got that out of your system, what's happened?"

"Wha'? Ya think ah need a reason ta spend a little time wit' my favorite person?" the Rancher joked good-naturedly, throwing in a wink. You snorted and tried not to think about how smooth the action was. After a moment, he acquiesced with a huff: "Ah'right, ah'right, 's Wild."

"...Oh no?"

"'S more than that, darl', ah'm just 'ere to warn ya 'bout supper."

"No," you breathed, trying and failing to hide your terror. "Don't tell me...?"

"'Fraid 's true," Twilight said sadly, and you were sure he'd be holding his hat to his chest if not for the fact that he didn't have one. "Ah tried ta warn 'im 'bout that spice, but he's goin' straight fer that Goron--"

"Let me guess, we're having chili tonight?" You asked with budding despair.

The Rancher's gaze was sympathetic, though you weren't sure if it was for you, him, or your combined tastebuds. "...How'd ya know?"

You groaned.

Epona noticed it first. 

She was a good horse; kind and gentle, with a sassy streak that made her all the more lovable. Unfortunately, she didn't seem so lovable now, but you supposed the fact that her hooves were currently inches from your face was a pretty good cuteness-dampener. Your hands fisted her reigns as you desperately tried to calm her, but she continued to rear, forelegs kicking, stark mane tossing in the breeze like a flag caught in a hurricane. 

“Hey–!”

Something wrapped around your waist, and you were yanked back into a very familiar chest. Twilight’s arm tightened, keeping you close as Warriors closed in to reclaim the mare’s reins, trying to coax her back to Earth. You hadn’t the faintest clue what could have made her act like this–the only thing ahead was a bridge, for Hylia’s sake! 

Warm, frantic breath fanned over your ears. “Ya alright, darlin’?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stuttered, heart hammering in your chest as you struggled to regain control of yourself. Even through the multiple layers, the Rancher was unnaturally warm, and you shivered as choppy waves of heat soaked into your back. 

Twilight, mistaking your shiver for one of fear, made a soft noise and patted your head. 

“Yer ah’right, ah promise– jus’ keep breathin’,” he coaxed, and it was with no small measure of surprise that your body seemed to obey, if the sudden influx of oxygen in your lungs was anything to go by. “Ah’ve got ya, sweetheart.”

If you weren’t burning before, you sure as hell were now. It was only when Warriors managed to calm Epona were you released from the Rancher’s embrace, red-cheeked and quick to put some much-needed distance between the two of you. The others were quick to crowd in, each voicing their personal thoughts on the insanity that had just occurred. 

“The hell was that, Rancher?” 

“Ah’ve got no idea, she ain’t usually…” he turned his gaze to the bridge, suddenly thoughtful. “...could be somethin’ ta do with that bridge up ahead.”

“...It does look old,” Hyrule added, rocking slightly on his heels before laying a hand on your shoulder, asking in a significantly quieter tone: “Are you alright?”

You nodded quickly, the interaction giving you the courage to clear your throat of any residual scratchiness. “We could try going in pairs? So we don’t overload it?”

“I like that idea,” Sky nodded along, already looking around for someone to drag along with him. He eventually locked arms with Wind, who was all but bouncing over to the bridge. “We’ll go first.”

“Yeah!”

You waited with bated breath as the two heroes ambled over the creaking wood, half expecting it to simply break from force of premonition again. Fortunately, they made it across without any problems, and the rest of the group was allowed a sigh of relief. Four and Hyrule went next, crossing the bridge in a similarly cautious fashion, with the Smithy looking particularly relieved when his feet touched the rocky ground. 

There was movement on your left side, and you turned your gaze to study Twilight’s offered arm. The Rancher grinned when you took it, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Third time’s tha’ charm, right?”

“Don’t jinx it,” you teased, letting him lead you to the rickety thing. A thick sensation settled in your stomach as soon as the toe of your boot bumped solid wood, but you ignored it. The others had made it across safely, so what about this was different. You just had to breathe, and pretend you weren’t walking arm-in-arm with your months-long crush. Easy peasy, right? Right. 

Your foot settled fully on the planks. The bridge shuddered. You felt Twilight’s grip on you tighten. 

“I’m fine,” you whispered, a bit unsure of whether it was him or yourself. Maybe both; maybe neither. Either way, there was birch beneath your boots and a thick lump in your chest, threatening to rattle through your esophagus at the slightest sign of danger. 

Everything was fine. 

Crack. 

Until it wasn’t. 

You didn't have a name for what happened next, only that it was accompanied by the inexplicable feeling of falling. You remembered the terror, the screaming–because no one liked falling–and the dreaded moment you realized there was water in your mouth, hair, nose, eyes, shaping the world into a black-light abyss that cradled and swallowed you in equal, terrible measures. 

There was a yell. It was far away, and so were you, though it didn’t stop your eyes from forcing open, droplets of salt joining the ever-rushing waters of the river. Your body twisted in the swift current, like a marionette on silver strings or a ragdoll that had been pitched from a cliff. Something bubbled from the depths of your chest, erupting in a series of terrified burbles that did little but bounce to the shifting surface. 

Don’t fight, your mind whispered, eerily calm despite the fact that your life was flashing before your waterlogged eyes. You remembered learning to swim, and the resulting lecture about rip currents when your parents realized you were too curious for your own good. The current. Sideways. Don’t fight. 

Your arms clawed at the water, fingers pressed together in an attempt to form makeshift paddles. Above–or was it below?–you, the surface winked like a smug mother or certain errant rancher. If you could just–

As if sensing your intention, the world inexplicably flipped, sending you spiraling into the depths. You cried out, then bit down, and, suddenly, murky water wasn’t the only liquid in your mouth, the sharp bite of copper now taking precedence over overworked taste buds. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The surface was gone, replaced by an inky blackness that had every nerve in your body positively screaming. Hell, you could be screaming. Who even knew at this point? Plus, your chest hurt, and you were starting to realize that not all the darkness was due to the water. You tried to lift your arms, but they refused to move, pinned to your heaving sides by the raging current. 

Your mouth opened for a final, desperate cry. The terrifying world tilted once more, sending you deeper into the abyss. It was cold. Frigid. Soul-sucking. 

You crumbled at the same moment a hand seized your wrist.

Drowning, you discovered first, was a dry experience. 

Alternatively: coughing, you discovered second, was a horrifyingly wet experience. It began with a shuddering of the lungs, accompanied by a swift rattling of cracked ribs, and, suddenly, you were on your side, hacking like a maniac as water spewed from the depths of your body, splattering all over the chilled ground–

“–arlin’!”

–Wait. 

Your vision was a mess of colors by the time you decided to force your eyelids open, squinting at the blurry, half-tan, half-green mass before you. A straggly wheeze escaped your lips, a dreaded remnant of the coughing fit, and you let your eyes squeeze shut once more. Something was shaking you, and you had half a mind to cuss them out for doing so. 

The shaking persisted, as did the voice. 

Something pressed to the side of your neck, probing the damp flesh. Two fingers, your exhausted brain guessed. Large. Thick. You would have killed to have those inside you. 

“–n’t ya dare die on me, ya hear!”

Why… why did that sound familiar? The voice sounded male, and you could have recognized that country drawl anywhere–

You were rolled onto your back. The fingers at your neck moved to your nose, pinching your nostrils together–you would have gasped in outrage if you could–and another hand slid between your lips, tugging your jaw ajar. You tasted murky water, leather, and a smattering of coppery blood. 

–Twilight!

Your eyes snapped open just as the Rancher’s mouth slotted over your own. 

Time seemed to grind to a halt when a puff of warm air invaded your throat, slicing through your throat until it reached your lungs, making you feel more like an inflated balloon than a waterlogged rat of a human. He did it again, and your hands found his chest, administering a surprisingly powerful shove. 

The hero was off you in less than a second, and it didn’t take a genius to register the flush atop tanned, tattooed cheeks. You found yourself coughing once more, chest heaving as your body worked to force out every last drop of water. Dying, it seemed, was a terribly exhausting endeavor, seeing as you didn’t even have the strength to resist as Twilight moved you to your side once more, a large, warm palm patting your back with just enough strength to push the last dregs of river water onto the now-soaked ground where they belonged. 

“Jus’ keep coughing,” you could hear him a lot better now, likely because of the sheer adrenaline his previous action had sent rushing through your overworked veins. He said your name; once, twice, and it was all you needed to gasp a behemoth of a breath. “Get it all out, darlin’.”

And so you did, until there was nothing left to hack up but your own spit and the congealed blood from your bitten tongue. Everything ached, and it felt like an eternity before you were once again maneuvered to your back. The hand previously on your spine moved to brush strands of hair from your face. 

Your eyes cracked open. 

Above you, Twilight looked positively horrified. His hair was a mess, sticking every which way as it dripped water onto his cheeks. Your heart twisted at the sight of a bruise marring his collarbone, not to mention the nasty-looking scrape on his jawline. Fuck, he looked every bit as rough as you felt. 

A weak smile tugged at your lips. 

“I thought…” your voice was scrap-y at best, and downright pitiful at worst, but you were grateful that you could speak at all. “...we agreed… not to jinx it.”

The Hero of Twilight, defeater of Ganondorf and protector of Hyrule, burst into tears.

A gust of chilled wind swept through the cave as Twilight carefully set you on the stone floor. After nearly soaking you all over again with his tears, he had gone in search of shelter, not taking ‘no’ for an answer when you protested being carried like a limp maiden. By all accounts, he had suffered the same as you, but this was the Rancher, so you eventually sucked it up when the ache in your throat became unbearable. Despite your weak protests, it wasn’t hard to find a place to hunker down when the area turned out to be a veritable smorgasbord of caves. 

When he turned to face the vine-covered entrance, likely to search for firewood, you found it in you to interject. “Twi…”

He was at your side in an instant, hands on your shoulders in a manner that would have made you blush mere hours ago. “Wha’s wrong? Ya in pain? Tired?”

You tried not to wince, you really did. Unfortunately, your companion took that as a sign of maximum agony, and fingers prodded your pulse once more as his other hand coaxed you to lay against the floor, making sure the hood of his cloak was pillowed beneath your head. It was another action he hadn’t taken ‘no’ for an answer with, though you were less inclined to argue when it was wrapped snugly around your shivering shoulders, still encased in the clothes he pulled you out of the river in. “Ah don’t have any fairies on me, but ah can–”

His rant was cut short when you grabbed his wrist, channeling all your energy into the action because, damnit, he was injured too! “Stop,” you croaked, loud enough that it rang through the cave, reverberating thickly against the damp stone walls, and, in a far quieter tone: “Breathe.”

By some miracle, he actually did. The hands left you in an instant, though you suspected it didn’t do much judging by how his shoulders continued to shake. Fuck. Ignoring any mumbled protests, you sat up, leaning against the wall with a determined expression. You could do this, you could help. 

“You need to rest,” you said, voice not quite as harsh now that you were actually using it. Your gaze swept over his clothes, taking note of just how wet he looked. “...You’re going to freeze.”

Twilight looked down at himself, then back at you. You waited for the gears in his head to finish turning. “So are ya…”

For Hylia’s sake…

“Take your tunic off.”

“Darlin’–”

Your eye twitched. You would not let him die because he was scared of being naked in front of you. Fuck your crush, because he was your friend first. “Take it off or I’ll do it for you, Link.”

The Hero of Twilight gulped, but the Hero of Twilight was also a smart man, so the tunic was off in less than a minute, revealing a frankly delicious chest you had seen many a time. Not that you were weird about it, but there were only so many shirtless-woodcutter incidents you could handle before gazes began to dip. 

“Thanks,” you told him, hands worrying the hem of your own tunic. If you wanted any chance of surviving the night, it would have to go, so you steeled yourself and began to lift, only to pause when Twilight flushed and very obviously turned away. “...Are you kidding me?”

“Don’t mind me, ‘m just protectin’ tha’… perimeter.”

It was a miracle unto itself that you didn’t roll your eyes. Until you realized that your newly-discovered noodle arms were not all equipped to handle the task that was getting your own tunic past the swell of your chest. Fuck. 

“...Twilight?”

His ears perked, though he didn’t turn around. “...Yes?”

“I need help.”

The defined muscles in his back tensed, and you were pretty sure the flush had expanded to his shoulders, but he turned regardless, wearing an expression that could only be described as bashful. Calloused hands found the hem of your tunic from where it was bunched at the beginnings of your ribs. “Can ah…?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, and he waited no longer, gently tugging the tunic up and over your head, leaving you in nothing but a few paltry lengths of bandages around your chest. Your nipples were stiff from the chill, and the way the Rancher paused informed you that you weren’t the only one to notice. Your mind raced, but not with the urge to cover yourself. 

Coughing, Twilight took both tunics and moved to lay them in the center of the cave to dry. While he worked, your hands found the hem of your pants, which were also soaked, shucking them off in a move that you suspected would have taken any man out. Your underwear went next, hastily in the right leg of the shed pants, and you used the last of your strength to wrap the pelt around you in a manner that preserved both modesty and sanity. 

Wordlessly, the Hero of Twilight grabbed your waterlogged pants, laying them out in a similar fashion. He didn’t comment on the suspicious bulge in the right pant leg. When he was finished, you decided to act once more. 

“Come here, Rancher.”

Stormy blues regarded you from over a toned shoulder. Twilight only hesitated a moment before shuffling to lean against the wall, tossing a chaste arm over your shoulders and pulling you against his size. He had chosen to remain in his trousers, likely to maintain some dignity, and, while you understood, a small part of you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. 

A beat passed. It was awkward, but the whole situation was awkward. Life was awkward. 

You shifted in a half-hearted attempt to gain some friction. “Are you warm?” 

“...Mhm,” he hummed. There was a shiver. Your eyes narrowed. 

“Liar.”

You were in his lap before he could defend himself, tastefully ignoring the surprised noise that escaped him. Without a word, you pressed your chest against Twilight’s, making sure the pelt was still obscuring your form, and buried your face in his neck. There was no way in hell you were going to stand by and watch him suffer, no siree. 

For a moment, it was as if the world had simply ceased to exist, and you were the only two people alive, nestled among the simple comforts of Mother Nature. For a moment, neither one of you resembled a waterlogged animal, half-drowned and all-exhausted. For a moment, you could pretend that he loved you as much as you loved him. 

“It’s going to be okay,” you told him in all your squeaky-voice glory. 

There were hands on your mid-back, pressing you against his furnace of a chest. This time, you leaned into the warmth. “Yer trembling.”

You didn’t miss a beat. “So are you.”

“...Ah need ya ta stop bein’ right, darlin’.”

It was a Hylia-damned miracle that you found the energy to chuckle, turning your head to giggle in his ear. “That was dumb.”

A hearty pat to the spine was his response. “Yer laughin’.”

He had you there. 

Another gust of wind thundered into the cave. You huddled close, praying to whatever deity was listening that your clothes would be dry by the time this bullshit was over. “Shit, I’m about to freeze my tits off–”

His breath hitched, but you were far too focused on regaining warmth to notice. Your hips rocked slightly as you pushed a bit closer, only to bump against something ha–

Oh. Oh shit. 

Your eyes snapped open, and you resisted the urge to throw yourself back from sheer force of shock alone. Was that–? Your hips twitched again and, lord, it was exactly what you thought it was. A pulse of heat warmed your belly when Twilight’s hands tightened around your back, fingers stiff and tense. 

Well, fuck. 

What in Hylia were you supposed to do now?! Tell him? Run away? Pull that monster out of his pants and get warm in a real way– No! Bad thoughts!!

Despite your… feelings, Twilight–Link–was your friend, and that would always come first. Even if you had to bite your lip and pretend his clothed dick wasn’t pressed in the crease where your bare thigh met your even barer core. By Hylia, you could get through this. You would get through this. 

There were hands on your mid-back. There were hands– shit, there were hands on the small of your back now! A shuddering breath tore from your lips, and you turned your head to the side in an attempt to regain some sanity. “Twilight…”

The hands immediately shot up, and you wanted to scream in frustration. The Rancher’s voice was tinged with apprehension as he shifted, though it did nothing to help the situation. “‘M sorry, darl’, ah don’t know what came–”

“No, no, no, you’re fine,” you said quickly, feeling a bit frantic yourself. Your core felt warm, and you tried not to perceive the budding wetness between your thighs. “I’m just cold and, uh, you’re warm. Really warm.”

You could practically hear him bluescreen from here. “Ah… happy ta help…”

Twilight’s bulge throbbed against you. 

You chewed your lip. The Rancher sucked in a breath. 

“...Do you need help?”

It was as if time had frozen. Twilight’s entire body jerked, and you could all but feel his gaze burning holes into you, though it was a bit hard to tell when you had your face buried between his neck and shoulder. Should you not have asked? Was he going to hate–

“Ya don’t…” his voice was husky, tinged with an emotion that had your thighs begging to clench together. He said your name, just once, and continued: “Ya don’t know what yer askin’.”

Your breath caught in your throat. His cock twitched through his pants. You were going to hell. 

But you already knew that, didn’t you? In a move that would have given your mother an aneurism, you brought your face to the column of his neck, letting your lips brush against the trembling skin, all the while adjusting your hips so his erection was nestled snugly against the burning heat of your core. 

“Maybe,” you murmured against his Adam's apple. It bobbed, and you allowed yourself the ghost of a grin; hook, line, sinker. “But I can learn.”

A low sound filtered from Twilight’s chest, gravelly enough that you could have mistaken it for a growl had you not known it was him. Your name rolled off his tongue once more, accompanied by a gentle hand on your hip. He didn’t squeeze, simply feeling the weight of your flesh against his palm, and you took the opportunity to sit up fully, hands flat on his shoulders, thumbs tracing gentle circles on bared flesh. 

“Twi,” you paused, wondering how much more impactful this little pocket of time could be. “Link.” 

There it was, the shudder you had only imagined in your deepest, darkest dreams. Like a miniature earthquake, rattling your nerves with blessed friction. “Ah ain’t gonna make ya do anythin’ ya don’t want to,” he told you; eyes soft, tone softer. Every syllable was a promise, a chance to break free and contemplate your life choices, and it was a sorry shame you would never take it. 

You drew in a breath, filling your burning lungs once more. The pressure ached, but so did your belly, your core, your heart. Everything hurt when you were so close, yet so far. “So don’t.”

Then, you kissed him. 

The first kiss was awkward–as most tended to be–and you were rather inclined to call it more a consensual collision of lips and teeth and tongue than anything else. Twilight kissed like the world would end if even the slightest modicum of space appeared between the two of you, gripping your hip in one large hand while the other slid to your jawline, tracing your skin in the same manner in which his tongue slicked against your lips. The second was less so, after a minute-long break to catch your nearly nonexistent breath, and you were beginning to understand why 

The third was a revelation of wandering hands down a toned, heaving chest and the tender joining of people who may as well have been lovers. The fourth; a returning slide of fingertips against your chest, stopping to press against your pebbled nipple, unblinking cobalt eyes watching the skin dimple beneath a firm touch. 

His name–the true one, the one that began with a rolling syllable, and ended far too quickly–fell from your lips, swallowed in the heady press of flesh and puffed breaths. You had no doubt that he heard you, from the rumbled rendition of your own name flitting into your ears, but all thoughts scattered when that clever thumb meandered across your breast, returning each time to stroke the waiting, silky nipple in a manner that made holding back your moans feel like a herculean task. Your back arched, pushing yourself impossibly closer, but no move was made to take further advantage of the situation, and it was with astonishing clarity that you realized Twilight wasn’t going to push you further. The beast in his head may have wanted, but the hero in his chest would never take. 

“Link,” you panted, squeezing the flesh of his shoulders as the pelt slid down your back, revealing the arched, goosebumped expanse of your back for all to see. You were simultaneously freezing and burning, trapped in a torturous circle of polar opposites, hips rolling just enough to slide a few inches along the side of his contained length. It was so large, hot, and you were distinctly aware that it would likely take more than a few tries to fit that monster within you, but, damnit, did you relish a challenge. 

His thumb moved to trace down the knobby joints of your spine. “Tell me what ya need,” he murmured; unhurried, yet so fucking desperate. You could see it in the sheen of those storm-blue eyes, the glistening beads of sweat gathering at the fridge of his hairline, and the way his fingers twitched against your skin. 

Wetness pooled between your legs, undoubtedly soaking the fabric of his pants. You didn’t care, and you suspected that he didn’t either. “I need you,” the words puffed from your mouth like clouds, hanging in their air until they shattered into a million meaningful fragments. Your hips rocked. He hissed. “Please.”

The world tilted on its axis as your body was maneuvered to lay on the ground, the sharp edges padded by the soft expanse of his pelt. You let yourself fall–allowed tender hands to guide your legs where they belonged: a loose, gentle clasp around his waist–and you let yourself stare when he leaned down, down, down to press a smooch to your damp hairline, then another on the bridge of your nose, all the while your gaze roamed the tousled, wild mane he called hair, the blood-flushed skin, and the darkened patches littering his chest and neck where the river nearly sent you both to meet your maker. 

When your hips made to roll, he stopped them, lips brushing the perked shell of your ear. “Not yet,” said Twilight in a tone that both soothed and stoked your desire. His back bumped up a few inches, creating plenty of room for a hand to slip against your thigh, feeling the way your muscles corded beneath a mere brush. When you whined, he hushed you: “Ah gotcha, darlin’. Jus’ relax.”

Relax?! How were you supposed to relax when–

A finger probed your folds with all the care in the damn world, simply stroking the skin for a few small eternities before even daring to dip into shimmering wetness. Nary a breath was heard as the appendage became one with you, and, when your hips squirmed for more, it became two, administering a gentle stretch that had more than your walls clenching. 

–oh.  

You hardly registered his voice until it boomed above you, a cacophony of hushes and praise that would have made anyone tear up. Maybe you were tearing up. Who knew anymore, when all that mattered was the hand between your thighs and the desperate, lovesick burble of your heart. Please, you wanted to whisper, say you love me. 

When a thumb grazed your clit, your hips nearly lifted off the pelt, a tepid gasp clawing from the depths of your throat. Twilight leaned in to press the start of many open-mouthed kisses to your throat, trying to distract you as his fingers scissored away, coaxing your gummy walls with a purpose. Are his eyes glowing or is that just you?

Twilight was a natural, and a damn quick study. Seconds felt like an eternity when his fingers curled, brushing up against a spot within you that had you practically wailing to the unforgiving ceiling, stars swirling in your vision like flickers of the Goddess herself. A whimper moan tore from your throat, hands flying to claw lines down his shoulders, and he did it again, again, again, again until your belly was reduced to a roaring wildfire, so bright and burning that it threatened to swallow you whole. 

“Tha’s it,” said the hero; your hero, tone rimmed with desire, seasoned with a kind of desperation that had your heart clenching in your chest. “Jus’ let go. Ah’ll catch ya.”

So you did; vision white, throat screaming. Everything blackened, then lightened, pulsing with the pleasure shooting through every nook and cranny of your body. You jerked like you were dying, but he held you steady. The Hero of Twilight caught you, all while keeping a delicious rhythm that coaxed every muscle to clench in brilliant sync. 

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. For a moment, being with him felt like drowning–the good kind, the kind that made you wrap your arms around his thick neck and bring your lips together in one swift motion. His fingers left your body with a lewd pop, practically dripping with slick. Your mouth all but fell open when he sat on his haunches, made frankly intoxicating eye contact, and licked the digits in a motion that was far too smooth to not have been practiced. 

A chilled gust swept through the vines. A bare-chested Twilight shivered. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. You beckoned him with a hand, shooting a swift glance to the growing wet spot in his trousers, and scooted to make room on the pelt. 

He was at your side in a heartbeat, wrapping your form in a tight embrace; chests pressed together, hips wishing they were. The heat from his body soaked into your skin, creating a makeshift barrier against the elements. Your heart skipped a beat when his erection brushed your belly. 

It wasn’t the best idea you’d had, nor was it the worst, but you had no time for semantics when you brought a hand to the Rancher’s abdomen, purposefully dragging your fingers over his skin as you let it dip further, only stopping when your fingertips bumped his waistband. “Is this okay?” you murmured softly, not wanting to push him. 

He looked baffled that you felt the need to ask. “Darlin’, after everythin’ we just did–”

Twilight cut himself off with a gasp, then a moan as you slid your hand into his pants, taking the length of him in a soft, exploratory grip. His cheeks blushed crimson, contrasting beautifully with the obsidian design marking his cheekbones and forehead, and you felt him throb. Fuck. 

Thighs pressing together, you began to stroke, running your fingers over firm, spongy flesh until his hips bucked. Your other hand loosened the tie keeping his trousers secure, and the Rancher’s groan was nothing short of relieved when you finally freed his aching cock. It jutted proudly from his pelvis, the shiny head flushed a deep, cherry red. You had half a mind to scoot down and take him in your throat, but you knew the hero in him would never let that fly after everything that had happened. 

With that in mind, you settled for pumping his length at a steady pace, thumbing over the head to smear the glossy burbles of fluid leaking from the tip. Twilight breathed your name like a prayer, and his hips rocked softly, pressing more firmly into your touch. He was enjoying this, and the thought alone filled you with more warmth than you knew what to do with. 

After a few dragging moments, he brought his hand to cover yours, temporarily halting your movements. Confused, your gaze met his, eyebrows raised–had you done something? Did he not want to continue?–but the hero merely smiled, moving your hand even lower until it no longer lay between his dick and your core. The tip flopped between your thighs, pulsing against where your clit peeked from between your folds. Twilight’s eyes never left yours as he moved to hold your hip in a gentle grip. 

“...Do ya have any idea what ya do ta me?”

You swallowed. You hoped your grin wasn’t too sheepish. “Hopefully nothing bad.”

The hand on your hip slid to grasp the back of your thigh, positioning it over the curve of his hip, further opening you up to his hungry gaze. You let it happen; hell, you even moaned a bit when the swollen head slipped lower, just barely parting your lower lips as it slid, hot and heavy, against your weeping entrance. 

“Ya could never.” 

Twilight kissed your forehead. A puff of breath fanned over your sweat-slick skin. 

Then, he pushed. 

Your eyes flew open the second the head breached you, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat. It wasn’t painful, per se, but there was definitely a stretch, and you were eternally grateful when he paused, quietly letting you adjust. A warm palm stroked the flesh of your thigh and there were lips on the column of your neck, lapping at sweat-slick skin with purpose. His hips gave the smallest of rocks, sending your nerves skittering as another inch slipped inside your cunt. 

“Link…” you whimpered; like a promise, or a prayer. Maybe both. 

His mouth popped off your neck with a soft noise, head lifting to plant more kisses on the apples of your cheeks. “Yer okay,” he soothed, holding you as close as possible without making things uncomfortable. You appreciated the contact, smiling softly at his attempts to distract you. It was freezing outside, but you didn’t think you had felt this alive in years. “Ah’ve got ya.”

“I know,” was your response, quiet as the night. “I love you.”

Twilight’s hips jerked. You moan-screamed as he pushed in the rest of the way and filled you fully, bodies pressed together in all the right ways.

“Ah– shit, darlin’! ‘M sorry,” he apologized quickly, looking rather mortified at the turn of events. You had to tighten your leg around his hip to keep him from sitting up and performing yet another wellness check because, goddamnit, you were an adult and you could have sex after almost dying if you damn well pleased! “Ah didn’t– I love ya too– does it hurt??”

Without waiting for him to continue, you reached up, grabbed his face, and practically smashed your mouths together. Twilight’s reaction was instantaneous, tongue sliding against your own in a manner that had you clenching like a vice around his length, drawing another moan from the depths of his chest. One of his hands trailed down to palm your breast, flicking your nipple with purpose until you separated, to which he bent to capture that very same nipple between plush, kiss-swollen lips. Your head fell back against the pelt, back arching in an attempt to bring yourself impossibly closer, a broken rendition of his name rolling off your tongue. 

Twilight shuddered as you spoke his name, eagerly sucking and nipping at the stiff peak. A particularly harsh suckle had you whimpering, leg tightening around his hip, and he gave a short, gentle thrust that had you seeing stars. He repeated the motion once, eyes training on your face from his position at your breast, then twice, until a steady rhythm began to take shape. It was too much and not enough, you thought as you gripped the back of his head tightly, moans and whimpers spilling from your mouth like the water you coughed up earlier. 

His mouth moved to your other nipple, giving it the same mind-numbing treatment, and it took everything in you not to shriek when a particularly deep thrust sent waves of pleasure skittering up your spine like spiders. “Link!” you called, if only to use your tongue for something other than wailing as he drilled in and out of you. 

The Rancher’s ears perked. He tentatively repeated the action, watching intently as your mouth fell open. “H-Here?”

You nodded quickly, eyes squeezed shut when he angled his hips to do it again, again, again, and again until you hadn’t the faintest clue which way was up. A slew of praises left his mouth, which eventually dipped to suckly at your neck once more. It felt like an eternity before the hand on your breast slid down down down to thumb the sensitive nub of your clit, borderline growling when you whimpered and clenched down on the cock within you. You didn’t care anymore, not when you were like this, pressed so close that you could feel his heartbeat in your very soul, and it showed from the way the scream of his name bounced off the cave walls, ricocheting through the space like a cannon. 

A tightness formed in your belly, growing with each delicious stroke of his hips. The thumb padding soft circles on your clit didn’t help in the slightest, and you could feel yourself drawing closer and closer as the seconds ticked by. Your fingers, still tangled in the mess that was his hair, twitched as the pleasure ramped higher and higher, until–

“C’mon, d-darlin’,” oh god, oh fuck, you were not going to last if he kept talking like that. “Cum fer me, I want ta–fuck–feel ya. I love ya so much–”

Without warning, the coil snapped. You screamed your release to the stone, and the sky, and the vines, twisting and turning like you were being burned, vision whiting and thoughts scattering like a thousand sparking stars. Somewhere nearby, there was a god-to-honest growl, though you lacked the brainpower to fully comprehend anything but the sensations skittering through every single nook and cranny of your exhausted body. 

Twilight fucked you through your orgasm, abandoning all other efforts in favor of thrusting into you like an animal, his balls smacking against the bottom of your ass with each fierce jerk of his hips, leaving you helpless to do anything but cling to him and pray to whatever deity was watching for survival. Just as overstimulation began to set in, he stilled, face buried in the curve of your neck as his length gave an almost violent twitch. You stiffened when the first splash of liquid hit your insides, not expecting the sudden warmth, but he kept you close, and you eventually relaxed, all but collapsing onto the pelt to catch your breath. The sound of harsh panting told you that the hero was doing the same, and the two of you just… laid there. Thinking, breathing, perhaps wondering what the hell this made you two now. 

“...Are you okay?” you whispered once your heart rate had returned to a somewhat calm level. 

“I love ya,” was his response; exhausted, but sweet. A pair of arms wrapped around your back, and the Rancher pressed the softest kiss to your lips. “More than anythin’.”

“I know,” was the last thing you said before the world went comfortingly black.

My first commission!! I'm really proud of this one (6k words can you believe it??!!) and I hope you all love it as much as I do <3

[komaedalovemail]

komaedas have you tried straw.page?

(i hope you don't mind if i make a big ollllle webdev post off this!)

i have never tried straw.page but it looks similar to carrd and other WYSIWYG editors (which is unappealing to me, since i know html/css/js and want full control of the code. and can't hide secrets in code comments.....)

my 2 cents as a web designer is if you're looking to learn web design or host long-term web projects, WYSIWYG editors suck doodooass. you don't learn the basics of coding, someone else does it for you! however, if you're just looking to quickly host images, links to your other social medias, write text entries/blogposts, WYSIWYG can be nice.

toyhouse, tumblr, deviantart, a lot of sites implement WYSIWYG for their post editors as well, but then you can run into issues relying on their main site features for things like the search system, user profiles, comments, etc. but it can be nice to just login to your account and host your information in one place, especially on a platform that's geared towards that specific type of information. (toyhouse is a better example of this, since you have a lot of control of how your profile/character pages look, even without a premium account) carrd can be nice if you just want to say "here's where to find me on other sites," for example. but sometimes you want a full website!

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neocities hosting

currently, i host my website on neocities, but i would say the web2.0sphere has sucked some doodooass right now and i'm fiending for something better than it. it's a static web host, e.g. you can upload text, image, audio, and client-side (mostly javascript and css) files, and html pages. for the past few years, neocities' servers have gotten slower and slower and had total blackouts with no notices about why it's happening... and i'm realizing they host a lot of crypto sites that have crypto miners that eat up a ton of server resources. i don't think they're doing anything to limit bot or crypto mining activity and regular users are taking a hit.

↑ page 1 on neocitie's most viewed sites we find this site. this site has a crypto miner on it, just so i'm not making up claims without proof here. there is also a very populated #crypto tag on neocities (has porn in it tho so be warned...).

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dynamic/server-side web hosting

$5/mo for neocities premium seems cheap until you realize... The Beautiful World of Server-side Web Hosting!

client-side AKA static web hosting (neocities, geocities) means you can upload images, audio, video, and other files that do not interact with the server where the website is hosted, like html, css, and javascript. the user reading your webpage does not send any information to the server like a username, password, their favourite colour, etc. - any variables handled by scripts like javascript will be forgotten when the page is reloaded, since there's no way to save it to the web server. server-side AKA dynamic web hosting can utilize any script like php, ruby, python, or perl, and has an SQL database to store variables like the aforementioned that would have previously had nowhere to be stored.

there are many places in 2024 you can host a website for free, including: infinityfree (i use this for my test websites :B has tons of subdomains to choose from) [unlimited sites, 5gb/unlimited storage], googiehost [1 site, 1gb/1mb storage], freehostia [5 sites/1 database, 250mb storage], freehosting [1 site, 10gb/unlimited storage]

if you want more features like extra websites, more storage, a dedicated e-mail, PHP configuration, etc, you can look into paying a lil shmoney for web hosting: there's hostinger (this is my promocode so i get. shmoney. if you. um. 🗿🗿🗿) [$2.40-3.99+/mo, 100 sites/300 databases, 100gb storage, 25k visits/mo], a2hosting [$1.75-12.99+/mo, 1 site/5 databases, 10gb/1gb storage], and cloudways [$10-11+/mo, 25gb/1gb]. i'm seeing people say to stay away from godaddy and hostgator. before you purchase a plan, look up coupons, too! (i usually renew my plan ahead of time when hostinger runs good sales/coupons LOL)

here's a big webhost comparison chart from r/HostingHostel circa jan 2024.

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domain names

most of the free website hosts will give you a subdomain like yoursite.has-a-cool-website-69.org, and usually paid hosts expect you to bring your own domain name. i got my domain on namecheap (enticing registration prices, mid renewal prices), there's also porkbun, cloudflare, namesilo, and amazon route 53. don't use godaddy or squarespace. make sure you double check the promo price vs. the actual renewal price and don't get charged $120/mo when you thought it was $4/mo during a promo, certain TLDs (endings like .com, .org, .cool, etc) cost more and have a base price (.car costs $2,300?!?). look up coupons before you purchase these as well!

namecheap and porkbun offer something called "handshake domains," DO NOT BUY THESE. 🤣🤣🤣 they're usually cheaper and offer more appealing, hyper-specific endings like .iloveu, .8888, .catgirl, .dookie, .gethigh, .♥, .❣, and .✟. I WISH WE COULD HAVE THEM but they're literally unusable. in order to access a page using a handshake domain, you need to download a handshake resolver. every time the user connects to the site, they have to provide proof of work. aside from it being incredibly wasteful, you LITERALLY cannot just type in the URL and go to your own website, you need to download a handshake resolver, meaning everyday internet users cannot access your site.

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hosting a static site on a dynamic webhost

you can host a static (html/css/js only) website on a dynamic web server without having to learn PHP and SQL! if you're coming from somewhere like neocities, the only thing you need to do is configure your website's properties. your hosting service will probably have tutorials to follow for this, and possibly already did some steps for you. you need to point the nameserver to your domain, install an SSL certificate, and connect to your site using FTP for future uploads. FTP is a faster, alternative way to upload files to your website instead of your webhost's file upload system; programs like WinSCP or FileZilla can upload using FTP for you.

if you wanna learn PHP and SQL and really get into webdev, i wrote a forum post at Mysidia Adoptables here, tho it's sorted geared at the mysidia script library itself (Mysidia Adoptables is a free virtual pet site script, tiny community. go check it out!)

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file storage & backups

a problem i have run into a lot in my past like, 20 years of internet usage (/OLD) is that a site that is free, has a small community, and maybe sounds too good/cheap to be true, has a higher chance of going under. sometimes this happens to bigger sites like tinypic, photobucket, and imageshack, but for every site like that, there's like a million of baby sites that died with people's files. host your files/websites on a well-known site, or at least back it up and expect it to go under!

i used to host my images on something called "imgjoe" during the tinypic/imageshack era, it lasted about 3 years, and i lost everything hosted on there. more recently, komaedalovemail had its webpages hosted here on tumblr, and tumblr changed its UI so custom pages don't allow javascript, which prevented any new pages from being edited/added. another test site i made a couple years ago on hostinger's site called 000webhost went under/became a part of hostinger's paid-only plans, so i had to look very quickly for a new host or i'd lose my test site.

if you're broke like me, looking into physical file storage can be expensive. anything related to computers has gone through baaaaad inflation due to crypto, which again, I Freaquing Hate, and is killing mother nature. STOP MINING CRYPTO this is gonna be you in 1 year

...um i digress. ANYWAYS, you can archive your websites, which'll save your static assets on The Internet Archive (which could use your lovely donations right now btw), and/or archive.today (also taking donations). having a webhost service with lots of storage and automatic backups can be nice if you're worried about file loss or corruption, or just don't have enough storage on your computer at home!

if you're buying physical storage, be it hard drive, solid state drive, USB stick, whatever... get an actual brand like Western Digital or Seagate and don't fall for those cheap ones on Amazon that claim to have 8,000GB for $40 or you're going to spend 13 days in windows command prompt trying to repair the disk and thenthe power is gong to go out in your shit ass neighvborhood and you have to run it tagain and then Windows 10 tryes to update and itresets the /chkdsk agin while you're awayfrom town nad you're goig to start crytypting and kts just hnot going tot br the same aever agai nikt jus not ggiog to be the saeme

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further webhosting options

there are other Advanced options when it comes to web hosting. for example, you can physically own and run your own webserver, e.g. with a computer or a raspberry pi. r/selfhosted might be a good place if you're looking into that!

if you know or are learning PHP, SQL, and other server-side languages, you can host a webserver on your computer using something like XAMPP (Apache, MariaDB, PHP, & Perl) with minimal storage space (the latest version takes up a little under 1gb on my computer rn). then, you can test your website without needing an internet connection or worrying about finding a hosting plan that can support your project until you've set everything up!

there's also many PHP frameworks which can be useful for beginners and wizards of the web alike. WordPress is one which you're no doubt familiar with for creating blog posts, and Bluehost is a decent hosting service tailored to WordPress specifically. there's full frameworks like Laravel, CakePHP, and Slim, which will usually handle security, user authentication, web routing, and database interactions that you can build off of. Laravel in particular is noob-friendly imo, and is used by a large populace, and it has many tutorials, example sites built with it, and specific app frameworks.

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addendum: storing sensitive data

if you decide to host a server-side website, you'll most likely have a login/out functionality (user authentication), and have to store things like usernames, passwords, and e-mails. PLEASE don't launch your website until you're sure your site security is up to snuff!

when trying to check if your data is hackable... It's time to get into the Mind of a Hacker. OWASP has some good cheat sheets that list some of the bigger security concerns and how to mitigate them as a site owner, and you can look up filtered security issues on the Exploit Database.

this is kind of its own topic if you're coding a PHP website from scratch; most frameworks securely store sensitive data for you already. if you're writing your own PHP framework, refer to php.net's security articles and this guide on writing an .htaccess file.

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but. i be on that phone... :(

ok one thing i see about straw.page that seems nice is that it advertises the ability to make webpages from your phone. WYSIWYG editors in general are more capable of this. i only started looking into this yesterday, but there ARE source code editor apps for mobile devices! if you have a webhosting plan, you can download/upload assets/code from your phone and whatnot and code on the go. i downloaded Runecode for iphone. it might suck ass to keep typing those brackets.... we'll see..... but sometimes you're stuck in the car and you're like damn i wanna code my site GRRRR I WANNA CODE MY SITE!!!

↑ code written in Runecode, then uploaded to Hostinger. Runecode didn't tell me i forgot a semicolon but Hostinger did... i guess you can code from your webhost's file uploader on mobile but i don't trust them since they tend not to autosave or prompt you before closing, and if the wifi dies idk what happens to your code.

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ANYWAYS! HAPPY WEBSITE BUILDING~! HOPE THIS HELPS~!~!~!

-Mod 12 @eeyes

[literallys-illiteracy]

Project Moon 8'th anniversary stream overview:

Cut for spoilers

God fucking bless this company, "nervous, one minute *clears throat*"

//as per last time, i will have some thoughts on each section which will be elaborated on in a marked subsection of each area, primarily it will be an overview and analysis of the content shown

Note at the start "This may be a long stream".

Revealed timeline.

Year in Review:

(Graph 1, Pictured, Monthly average players this year)

(Graph 2, Pictured: Daily Active Users)

New ID and EGO extraction:

Devyat association Sinclair (seen in a prior teaser) and Asymmetrical Inertia He EGO Heathcliff.

Sinclair 000 ID:

Likely a rupture ID similar to Rodion's Devyat.

This ID appears to use the same Courier system that Rodion used as well, being able to retreat from battle.

Skill 1 appears to be 2 Blunt coins. Skill(s) 2,3, and 4 seem to each be 3 Blunt coins.

Rather than a skill 4 it seems to be just an empowered skill 3 however, without the coin reuse at all.

It will be interesting to see if this ID can stand to beat Talisman Sinclair's bench passive slot.

Heathcliff He EGO:

Likely a tremor EGO due to its seeming relation to the "bell of truth" abnormality named Clockwork-Time Roly Poly in Mirror Dungeon.

Both the corrosion and awakening appear to be blunt damage EGO with either 1 or 2 coins, however there is a chance for a coin reuse system on the awakening due to the repeated animation before the final strike.

If this EGO is in line with the Roly-Poly, it will likely relate to fragile somehow, and may introduce a new tremor type, or reintroduce Tremor-Fracture to relate its Fragility concept.

Mirror Dungeon 5: Mirror of the Dreaming:

It is noted that this Mirror Dungeon changes are going to be long in explanation and extensive.

Party revive is noted, alongside "Combat changes" likely to include the new Chain Battle system, and abnormalities/EGO that are designed to use said system such as the Devyat ID and latest Fell Bullet EGO.

New EGO gifts, Choice Events, and Theme Packs. This confirms the return of the mirror dungeon floor pack system, allowing us to complain about getting the bosses we chose to fight.

The "new choice events" is likely referring to those that appeared in both Canto 7 and RR4, being "Dreaming Electric Sheep (which likely will be the source of Imitative Generator)", Portrait of a Certain Day, King in Binds, 400 Roses, Rose Hunter, and Hurting Teddy Bear.

There are changes to the pack system, allowing us to change between the hard and normal packs in the selection menu as shown, also i checked the EGO gifts shown in the image, they're all ones we've seen before.

Within Hard mirror dungeons, you have a selection choice between 4 EGO gifts, and the ability to select 2 of them, alongside both their associated Mounting Trials

In this hard pack, a "special shop" is able to spawn.

Within normal difficulty dungeons, the final floor is moved to the 5th rather than the 4th as is current, similar to how current Hard dungeons work.

Shops and rest stops are now one in the same it appears (once again, no new EGO gifts shown).

The aforementioned "Special Shop" that appears within hard packs.

This allows to swap out more skills, it will contain more EGO gifts, and will be able to fuze up to 5 EGO gifts together at once, which likely is due to the increased number of gifts that will be received specifically at floor end.

Duplicates of EGO gifts, they do not apply stacking bonuses, but rather are able to be fused.

When revived, sinners will have their SP set to zero, however all other sinner's SP will remain the same on floor start.

More abnormality battles will be present, and upon winning battles against said abnormalities (boss fight abnormalities encountered in elite or normal encounters), one will receive the EGO gifts related to the abnormality, as if they completed the fight through an encounter.

Hard mode fog of war changes, allowing you to see 2 nodes ahead rather than the current one.

EGO gifts are planned, for the aforementioned abnormalities most likely, and several that are unrelated or completely new.

In both images, fusion "tree's" are mentioned, with fusion gifts that are able to be fused (currently impossible as tier 4 gifts may not be fused), where new and weaker EGO fusions are added, which may be fused into double fusion, or fusion^2 EGO gifts.

Next Week, 28th of November.

5th of December.

some point this season, we will be able to gain achievements, and challenge the dungeon past floor 5 without the rewards, as an added Roguelike challenge mode.

Monthly ID rotation, reoccurring missions, and Quality of Life UI improvements such as a clear timer.

There are plans to release this in stages, as:

which is the reasoning behind the weekly additions that are listed above, which allows for Consistent quality assurance and constant content rather than a large release and a dead period.

Seasonal ID:

The Manager of La ManchaLand Don Quixote:

actively making use of the bloodfeast keyword, akin to the other bloodfiend ID's

This ID's kit will vary depending on the present allies, specifically changing when other La Mancha Land ID's are present.

Specifically, skill 1 is the Priest, skill 2 the Barber, and Defence skill The Princess.

This ID's skills will be adaptive to multiple situations alongside their defensive skill,.

The defence skill was not shown, however, i believe that this ID's skills will be Slash, Slash, and Pierce respectively.

Wealth and Fame:

"We will need to increase our revenue to make the following a reality: add more enjoyable functions and high fidelity cutscenes; To Begin Production on a new game; or to release animations (Advertisements, previews, Short episodes, full length movies, and/or anime)

Sinner Target Extraction Changes:

Sinner Target extractions will now feature event extraction ID's and EGO from the preceding season, not including those obtained through the event itself such as Chef Gregor, or Multicrack Heathcliff.

In the future, target extractions may have association or syndicate themes, such as a blade lineage themed extraction

Returning Intervallo's with Voices:

Most intervallo in the game are unvoiced, this was due to the ease in creation and flexibility that it allowed them to create and release, with less strain caused by alterations and adjustments within the dialogue.

Adding voices to these intervallo in post is fareaser as the dialogue is already set in stone, which means that there is no worry of future alterations.

These intervallo will be returning with higher level in a "hard mode", each featuring 2 EGO relating to the intervallo's theme.

Why EGO? the sinners tend to receive id's of increasingly powerful characters and LCB's story progresses, releasing ID's for intervallo returns means that they may be, story and lore wise, held back by the strengths of the characters present in past intervallo. However, EGO are free from these concerns, which makes us believe that they are a better choice for the intervallo returns. This does not rule out the release of ID for intervallo reruns, if there is a valid inspiration an ID may be released, however it will primarally be EGO. When an intervallo is voiced, characters will be featured as paid announcers such as the Gnomes, Jun, and Aeng Du.

(Paraphrased) (quoted because Tumblr decided i couldn't have images)

Announcers will be extractable from Ideality (yisang) and from standard extractions, {green marker}: More Money For Anime

Ideally they will also be adding voice acting to the mini episodes between both intervallo and canto's.

5th Walpurgisnacht:

Library of Ruina theme.

2 Full Stop Office Fixers, Hong Lou Liwei and Gregor Stephan (or so appears).

Der Freischütz EGO, sinner unknown, likely Heathcliff due to his being the only Sinner yet to receive a Walpurgisnacht release, and his lack of inclusion in the aforementioned ID.

Intervallo 7.5 1:

Regular Check Up:

episode about health checkups for sunners, specifically their mental corrosion and distortions(?).

This will take place in T Corp.

Refraction Railway Line 5, The Merry Go Round:

As of now there are no definitive gimmicks for this event, however it will cycle similar to RR2.

Yield My Flesh to Claim Their Bones Rerun:

Intervallo 2: Nocturnal Sweeping:

Ill give you two guesses what SWEEPING is going to be about, especially a NIGHT in the BACKSTREETS

Canto 8: The Surrendered Witnessing:

Hong Lou Canto.

Ill let @lu-is-not-ok pick this apart, as they are far better at Hong Lou analysis than i am, as it has been aeons since i read Hong Lou Meng and i don't plan to re-read it any time soon.

Mili Asia concert tour:

this year was delayed due to Cassie's delivery, the current goal is for the concert to be held during the 9th anniversary sometime around the 18th of November 2025.

live tickets will be sold separately for Korea and Japan.

Concert will only feature Mili songs from the Project Moon games.

Starting in Korea, and ending in Japan.

Collaboration:

(Slow, manual movement of powerpoint to the centre of screen while the vtuber model dissapears)

Arknights Collaboration video plays.

(re aligning of the presentation while talking)

"We were invited into Hypergryph headquarters, exchanged merchandise of our games and had a fruitful discussion"

KJH's signed Lappland poster.

4 sinners will be receiving crossover content.

Though it is too early for a full on reveal, the sinners who are getting said EGO have been revealed.

Faust, Hong Lou, Ishmael and Gregor.

We do not currently know who each sinner will be paired with for this collaboration, however if i were to wager it would be Kal'tsit for Faust, and potentially texas for Ishmael (they're both stoic lesbians i think it works).

Reimagined outfits and combat skills will be used as inspiration for the EGO skills. Why EGO skills? see above rendition of this same question. ID's are representative of the power that a certain character may hold, which would alter perceptions of the ID.

One (1) operator from arknights will be featured as a (presumably Paid (more money for the anime)) announcer for the game

Long Term R&D Goals:

ID Skin functionality: Akin to layered armour, using growth materials (shards n threads) to use one ID's animations and moveset layered on top of another's.

EG. Barber Outis appearing as Magic Bullet, and that (the Yi Sang) is a skin and not an ID being San from the Streetlight Office in Library of Ruina, which is not going to be released as an ID, but only a visual.

They are learning how to monetise this game it seems.

However, this is a long term goal, as each ID has different cinematics, effects, and coin counts on each skill, such as altered effects due to charge.

HHPP Store expansion:

Enhance Immersion by making use of panoramic projection.

the physical store is being expanded, separated into different areas, the cafe, a Ruina themed section, followed by a section representing each Canto of Limbus Company.

2024 AGF (anime games festival):

merchandise being sold:

ID acrylic cards

Limbus Company zip-up Hoodie and attachable patches. note that these hoodies are the same in design as to those worn by the sinners in the Intervallo 1 teaser Image.

Employee ID card and casing. Employee cards for each sinner excluding dante.

W corp Cap (like the ones worn by the ID's, Outis, Don, Faust, Meur, Etc.)

2025 EGO callender.

Paper bag

EGO can badges, including: Sunshower Yi sang, Everlasting Faust, Lesbian Don Quixote, "Contempt, Awe" Ryoshu, Yearning-Mircalla Meursault, Cavernous Wailing Hong Lou, Fell Bullet Heathcliff, Blind Obsession Ishmael, Hex Nail Rodion and Sinclair, Sunshower Outis, and Solemn Lament Gregor.

The Director will have an autograph signing at saturday and sunday from 4-6pm.

HHPP Popup Cafe:

In Busan there will be a popup cafe of HHPP selling several popular dishes.

There are currently conversations being had with other pop up retail booths and locations, namely PAX west 2025.

The merchandise sold at the AGF will later be sold at the popup cafe's, and then later at the main HHPP itself.

In Game rewards:

*director clears his breath*

1300 Lunacy and a 10 pull dextraction ticket.

Thanks You for watching.

Also Thank you for reading this~

[kaidanworkshop]

KRCE V1.2.0 Update

Howdy howdy, the Workshop has a new KRCE update out! You can read the patch notes below, or on our Nexus page. An updated Xbox version will be released sometime next week. Besides that, we're incredibly pleased to announce that KRCE has been granted permission from LivTempleton to opt KRCE's Nexus page into the donation point system! 100% of proceeds will be going to charity; half to the Ukrainian Relief Fund, and half to Doctors Without Borders. Moving forward, all mods that are dependent on KRCE are permitted to open their mod pages up for donation points, so long as the proceeds are donated to one of the two aforementioned charities.

Other than that, we're closing in on finalizing the first batch of new content for KRCE 2.0. You can read about our current progress here, and take a peek at our donation drive!

KRCE 1.2.0 CHANGELOG – SAFE TO UPDATE MIDSAVE

Added script from hotfix 1.1.1, fix for the cool romance path not advancing

Fixed bug preventing All of this Past from advancing if you found the dossier before translating his sword

Tweaked the wording of certain objectives for All of this Past to hopefully be more clear

Adjusted conditions on "Who were you before you discovered you had the Dragon Blood?" until after Arngeir tells you about it

Fixed spelling of "dragon blood" to "Dragon Blood" to be consistent with how vanilla Skyrim capitalizes it

Cleaned up some unnecessary conditions on his KW_K02Hungry01 responses, removed the random flag from the homecooked meal response

Added IdleStop_Loose to the Book of the Dragonborn response so the book doesn't get stuck in his hand

Adjusted conditions on KW_K02Feels01 responses for better timing

Increased the cooldown on all nickname combat lines so they don't get too repetitive

Adjusted condition on "You've got a big roar Little Dragon." idle for better timing

Added Alftand Animonculory to list of locations to hear Kaidan's idle about Falmer taking over Dwemer ruins

Added condition on "What twisted experiments are making these mages hide from the world?" idle to check if the College questline is complete

Adjusted conditions on "Huh… I didn't know magic could be that… pretty." idle to include healing magic

Adjusted conditions on KW_AutumnwatchHello to let Kaidan tell you he saw a house for sale after you're married, even if you've picked up the notice earlier (but then never bought the house)

Added location conditions to KW_KidsFamily01 to check if in a PlayerHome or HonorhallOrphanage

Increased the detection distance on Kaidan's scenes with adopted kids from 800 to 1600

Cleaned up unnecessary conditions on KW_K04Talisman01 topic

Moved the script enabling Myriah's camp to when the player says they want a small wedding (for compatibility concerns with other mods)

[probablyasocialecologist]

Disco Elysium's setting was formerly the site of a communist revolution that established the Commune of Revachol. It didn't last long. The Coalition of Nations brutally put the communists down, divided the city among themselves, and enforced a free market capitalist system. The results are depressingly apparent in Revachol's dilapidated district of Martinaise. "The literacy rate is around 45% west of the river," Joyce Messier, a negotiator sent to parley with Martinaise's striking union, tells our protagonist. "Fifty years of occupation have left these people in an *oblivion* of poverty." This state of affairs is overseen by the Moralist International, a union of centre-left and centre-right parties that professes to represent the cause of humanism, but whose primary concern is transparently the preservation of capitalist interest – a Coalition official happily tells us that "the Coalition is only looking out for *ze price stabilitié*", arguing that inflation in Revachol must be prevented, comparing it to a heart disease that could block the "normal circulation of the economy". The people of Revachol don't matter. Their suffering and oppression is only significant as a necessary symptom of the system functioning as intended.  The most biting aspect of this critique of capitalist exploitation can be found in the cynicism of those who represent Moralism, or at least, its interests. The aforementioned Joyce Messier is its perfect embodiment. She does not believe in the facade of humanity Moralism presents to the world, and is under no illusions about what it has done to the people of Martinaise. She tells you how bad things are, freely admitting that the pieces of legislation put in place by the Moralist Coalition to govern Revachol are there to keep "the city in a [...] laissez-faire stasis to the benefit of foreign capital". This corrosion of belief via cynicism, this depiction of a system that continues to operate unimpeded despite few believing in it, feels all too familiar.  This critique of liberal capitalism's hypocrisy, cynicism, exploitation and deep-rooted connections to colonialism, is particularly powerful in recognising the precarious position it finds itself in. It has reached a stasis that seems, paradoxically, both insurmountable, and on the verge of collapse. Moralism relies on this contradiction. It's unofficial motto, "for a moment, there was hope", underlines the degree to which its dominance depends on the preclusion of the idea that a better world is possible, that there is no alternative, echoing the End of History sentiment that created the (rapidly disintegrating) political consensus of our lived reality. Despite growing dissatisfaction with the status quo in the real world, it has, indeed, proved difficult to imagine an alternative. The oft-repeated phrase attributed to literary critic and political theorist Fredric Jameson, that is is easier to imagine the end of the world than it is the end of capitalism, has almost become a cliché. However, the mistake Joyce makes, and one that we should avoid, is to assume that this means an alternative won't emerge nonetheless.

[...]

In a world where everyone is encouraged to look out for themselves, Disco Elysium suggests we should remember the value of collectivity, camaraderie and community. The Deserter has forgotten that though the communism he identified with is dead, the values that brought people to its cause in search of a better world remain as valid as ever. Bleak as it is, those values exist in Martinaise. They exist in us. Their latent power has the potential to lead us towards better horizons. 

[prince-liest]

A little bit of celebratory light in the current political climate: I'm working with a local endocrinologist who is versed in gender-affirming care as well as my local LGBTQ+ resource organization to start a quarterly pride clinic that I'm going to run with and staff with the aforementioned endocrinologist. I don't know yet how successful it will be, but we're in a really under-served area and a lot of the local federally qualified health centers are pulling back their gender affirming care offerings due to the recent federal policies so that they can retain their funding, which after speaking to my residency program directer he seems to believe is unlikely to affect us. So I'm going to be working with our program attendings and this endocrinologist to help refer more queer and especially trans patients to myself and one of my seniors who is also really involved in LGBTQ+ health goals for gender-affirming care.

The clinic itself is only going to be quarterly at this time (hopefully monthly in the future) due to the limitations of patient panel sizes and also residency scheduling, but we're hoping that we can also follow these patients in our actual primary clinic, since it will all be in the same building and part of the same system, and the endocrinologist has said she is willing to co-precept these patients (aka. have us forward her the notes and look over them to make sure the care plans are copacetic, as well as get curbsided by us when needed) when we work on hormone therapy in the primary care clinic. I think the main challenge is going to be 1) making sure we have the resources and access to a good multidisciplinary team (main points are mental health resources (gonna ask one of the psych program attendings, he is both openly queer and invested) and infectious disease specialist options that aren't going to result in bad experiences for the patients that we refer that way) and 2) making sure we have appropriate follow-up for patients, which I think on my end is just going to mean me telling our clinic coordinator, "Hey, if it's for this patient panel specifically, you can book me an extra patient per half-day for continuity."

We're also going to be doing internal-ish referral advertising through the LGBTQ+ org, as well as training through the organization and also just through research done by myself and my senior for our co-residents for things like cancer screening guidelines adjusted for risk factors we see in queer people (anal paps, three-site testing, when to screen for breast cancer in trans women, etc, etc). Waiting on my program director to talk to our clinic coordinator to see if there's any way for people to self-refer straight to the pride clinic (probably insurance-dependent) but otherwise it's just...happening.

I think my main wish is that I had more days to directly work with this endocrinology attending to pick her brain. She said she's game for any [redacted weekday] for the clinic once we get things going and I'm on my endocrinology rotation, but I'm mostly working with another endo and only see her twice this month due to her work schedule. She's a great teacher and next time I see her this month I'm going to see if she has time to give me a crash-course on HRT management that will help me synthesize the gender dysphoria treatment clinical practice guidelines I'm reading through from the Journal of Clinical Endocrinology and Metabolism. My PD actually specifically referred a trans patient to us to see that day because he knows I really want more experience with this (and, y'know, she's a great endo doc) so that will be the perfect opportunity.

Anyway! It's a great time to be working on offering more medical resources to LGBTQ patients.

[velvetvexations]

We were thinking about some of the many misconceptions involved in gender essentialism recently, and one that stuck out to us as often causing a lot of downstream bad takes: it seems like some trans discourse theorists think (implicitly or explicitly) that, at the exact moment that a trans man notices and and acknowledges his gender identity as male, (even if only in the quiet of his own mind and heart), he immediately and retroactively becomes heir to and in possession of the full scope of male privilege in the context of a patriarchal society, by nothing more than the sheer force of this internal identification alone.

This is obviously a compelling idea for some people, but in terms of a person’s literal daily reality in society, it’s immediately ludicrous: someone who has grown up being repeatedly assigned and policed into a female social role isn’t going to suddenly have benefited from the full scope of male privilege just because his internal sense of gender doesn’t align with the one that society has been trying to make him fit into, nor will the marks from the specific type of violent gender enforcement experiences that any “girl who is acting insufficiently feminine and also excessively masculine” is frequently subject to be erased on the spot. Furthermore, most places in a transphobic society will not acknowledge his gender as real and valid masculinity if he expresses it, and continue to treat him—likely with escalating intensity—as a member of the aforementioned category of “deviant” girls/women (which, it should be mentioned, can potentially include people of any gender as well as trans men). Most cis and perisex boys and men, however, do not get societally categorized and treated as “deviant girls/women” at any point in their lives (even though their societally-assigned gender roles are also policed in violent and harmful ways too, of course). Therefore, thinking that an arbitrary trans man’s internal gender identity alone is sufficient to grant him categorical societal male privilege isn’t likely to accurately reflect his experiences—and it becomes even more obvious when considering multigender singlets, intersex people, and systems.

Do we personally instantly gain and lose Categorical Male Privilege every time that my headmate (male) switches in for me (female) and vice versa, when the only observable changes are slight differences in posture, intonation, and personality? Does changing our clothing and presentation—even though we currently only pass as one of our genders, not both—instantly afford or deny us the sanction of the patriarchy, ignoring the reality of an internal gender identity or of our outward body and societally-perceived gender? (I will keep it ambiguous as to what our own societally-perceived gender is, because examples of both “directions” of this situation are common in the system population). And, of course—what happens if we’re both co-fronting? What if we’re blurred and experiencing identity confusion? Do we have schrodinger’s male privilege until one of us is able to ground themselves fully in front? Etc. So much of the discourse we see seems to hinge upon binary and immutable categories of Male vs Female (sometimes stylized as “masc vs femme”, with little to no added nuance), and reducing people to nothing more than their AGABs—just with the cis-typical power dynamic assumption inverted. Which…well. The glaring exorsexism and refusal to acknowledge the complexity that even a binary-gender person may experience is confusing and alienating.

It's because it's gender validating. Like, if you feeling like a woman or a man means you're instantly treated exactly identical to cis women or cis men, yay, objective proof of your soul-gender. And to do this people willfully confuse "being treated like a cis woman" with "being treated badly" and "being treated badly" and "being treated like a cis man" with "being treated with baseline decency," and then assumes that those experiences are universally consistent among trans people along gender lines.

[anglerwithashotgun]

Introduction post

(the art for my pfp is from a picrew that i did, i know there's a post about it on my main but i can't remember what it's called)

i won't even lie, having to capitalize words is going to be painful. anyways, this actually IS an rp account! my main is @the-real-sans-undertale (that's me). this is the only rp account that we have, since this guy isn't part of our system. this account is purely for role-playing. anyways, lemme get into character.

*ahem*

My name is Ace Algheizer. I'm currently 27 years old, but that will change in nine days (as of June 30th). I will attempt to describe my Quirk as best I can, but expect to not understand what I'm talking about.

My Quirk is called [sike, it doesn't have a name because my creator is dumb], and it essentially allows me to open up an editing/rendering software in my mind that I can then project into another person's, causing them to hallucinate whatever I created in the aforementioned software.

My dad couldn't afford to send me to any kind of hero school (he was a gambling addict, which is why my name is Ace. Creative guy, huh?), so I didn't get my hero license until recently. Then there was the whole "getting sold when I was 13" thing, but that's another story for another day.

Anyways, I've got two daughters, Emerson and Brielle. They're my entire world, and the only reason I bother growing my hair out. They like styling it, so if you see me with pigtails or braids and Hello Kitty hair clips, don't say a single fucking about it unless you're going to say how amazing they did.

One last thing about me, I'm genderfluid. I don't often feel nonbinary, but I do alternate between feeling like a man and feeling like a woman. I don't expect everyone to account for this, but if you don't want to accidentally refer to me incorrectly and you're scared to ask, I wouldn't be offended if you referred to me gender neutrally, or even if you just defaulted to male. I most often feel like a man, so I just have my girls call me Dad since that doesn't make me feel dysphoric at all.

I have had art drawn of me, which I will share now.

Going down the list, these were drawn by @knivescutyou, @strawberryswirl4321, @multiversal-madnessblog, and @dustsansm2. My creator gave a reference pose, hence the first three. (sans here, i adore these all and keep them in a box)

[edutainer2022]

In commemoration of my very (sur)real adventure to get back to Berlin at night via public transport, in the company of two Finnish fellow guest professors, complete with multiple side-quests and setbacks, here's a little amusing John and Scott thing. Absolutely nothing hurts.

Many thanks to @janetm74 , as ever!

ODYSSEY

It was a truth universally acknowledged that only part of Scott was born on his birthday. The other one arrived as Virgil came to be, making a complete whole.

It was a lesser known fact that Scott and John had their strengths and competences that, while quite far removed in range, complimented each other, so together they formed a formidable unit. For example, John spoke impeccable German. Scott's German was a torturous tangled mess of mixed articles and cases, but was heavily reinforced by a smile and dimples that could charm the socks off a wooden fence. Together they were typically unstoppable on a trip.

None of those interoperable skills were of any use to them at the moment, in the middle of nowhere, Berlin Metropolitan area, approaching midnight. They had one jacket between them, Scott's, which John was currently wearing. Realistically he understood Scott wasn't actually "all good, Johnny, you know I run hot!", but the piercing chill left only the little brother portion of John's brain operational. Nobody could have forseen the German public transport system pulling a kafkaesque trick and sending them on a roundabout commute around Berlin across three to four connection rides by multiple transportation types. Reaching just ever so close but never enough to actually make it to their hotel.

Throwing the vast (one might say - unlimited) supply of money at the problem of getting back to the city from John's guest lecture was also impeded by an unexpected curveball - this late and this far away from the city limits translated into cash only services. Which they hadn't carried on them since about high-school. Their state-of-the-art comms were also rendered useless by the indomitable fact of there simply being no coverage.

Scott suggested walking or hitchhiking, which earned him an unimpressed turquoise glare - John opted out of Rescue Scouts at a tender age of six for a reason, thank you very much! The aforementioned dimples would have probably scored them a ride quite swiftly, but the plan wasn't without its demerits. The most prominent of those being killed by Kayo if she ever found out.

Despite the unfortunate circumstances that were bringing them no closer to the warm and comfortable suite in the Intercontinental, John was glad to be with Scott in this. He always secretly cherished big brother attending his academic talks, the buzz of the crowd fading away in the calming, centering presence. Biggest brother was also in possession of an ability to exhude undefeatable optimism and energetic attitude that, John suspected, he'd cracked up quite a bit for his sake, despite the cold and exhaustion. John felt safe and secure in the notion they would make it home soon no matter what. Scout's honor! Safe enough he actually dozed off on the denim clad shoulder on what was, hopefully, to be the last leg of their ardorous journey by U-bahn, that time.

The unexpected problem arrived as they actually walked the length of the street to the hotel. Of course it did! Intercontinental boasted the security levels vetted by multiple international intelligence agencies. By a strike of cosmic irony, those measures were tweaked up ever so more, because The Scott Tracy and his brother were staying over the week. Which meant a full lockdown past midnight. John audibly groaned. Scott burst into a laugh that was at least part hysteria.

That time it was nothing left for them to do but test the glorified security measures and do a field upgrade of their parcour and scaling skills. The security of Intercontinental foreseeably didn't hold up against two freezing, tired, and hungry Tracies on a mission, but at least, Kayo would have the hotel staff's heads, not theirs.

[d-criss-news]

“Following Your Heart Is a Zero-Loss Game”: Darren Criss Is Forging His Own Legacy

Darren Criss is no stranger to the spotlight. But, does his latest role in Broadway’s Maybe Happy Ending solidify his place within the ranks of Filipino theater legends? 

Oliver, the main character in the Broadway musical Maybe Happy Ending, would be confused by the actor who plays him. See, Oliver is a robot dubbed “helper bot” with a classic Type A personality: rigid in his ways and painfully calculated. He exists in Seoul in the distant future, where these bots are essentially humanoid versions of our current cell phones. Oliver has only one mission in life, which is to reunite with his human who left him in an apartment complex where other thrown-out bots reside. (Think of how your old blackberries are stashed away in some random cabinet drawer.) His only friend is a plant named HwaBoon who, audiences come to learn, is the most important character in the show. The actor who brings this robot to life is Darren Criss who is anything but one-track-minded. The Filipino-American’s personal curiosity and dynamic career tell this best. Was it Glee where you first got to know his dark locks and melodic voice? Or, did you first see him hit the stage on Broadway in How to Succeed in Business Without Trying (2012)? Perhaps it was his role in Ryan Murphy’s Gianni Versace: American Crime Story (2018). His portrayal as Andrew Cunanan, the killer of the late fashion designer, earned him an Emmy, Golden Globe, and SAG award and placed him as one the few actors to earn the trifecta. Unlike Criss, Oliver has only had one job during his entire battery life. 

Yet, Criss breathes life into his mechanical character on stage as if he knows what it’s like to operate like a robot. But, perhaps he does. Perhaps, we, including those who have continuously waved a finger to AI and ChatGPT; all do.  “Think of Aesop fables or Greek Mythology,” he tells Vogue. “These tales all displaced the human experience by using non-human things. We learn lessons about our own behaviors through animals, spirits, gods, or other totems because it doesn’t feel patronizing if we use human characters. I think using robots was an excellent metaphor for human life itself and the way we perceive the world; operating systems, battery life, logical programming versus illogical emotional responses. A lot of these human things lend themselves really well to computers and robots.”  The last time Criss performed at the Belasco Theater where Maybe Happy Ending is showing until January 2026 was 10 years ago. At the time, he starred as Hedwig in John Cameron Mitchell’s Hedwig and The Angry Inch. “I love the poetry of my return to the Belasco theater a decade later,” he says. The aforementioned show is considered a classic in modern musical theater. It first debuted Off-Broadway in 1998, and later revived in 2014 starring Neil Patrick Harris. Then, he was continuing a legacy, but with Maybe Happy Ending, an original production directed by Tony Award Winner Michael Arden, written by Will Aronson and Hue Park, and produced by Jeffrey Richards, he’s forging his own.  “As a creative person, you dream to be a part of something original and singular to itself. You can’t put lightning in the bottle, but you work hard until one day the serendipities fall into your lap. That’s what happened here; a new dream was achieved.” 

There’s also another difference in his return to this theater. Unlike his previous solo-performance, he gets to share the stage in Maybe Happy Ending with his 24-year-old co-star Helen J. Shen graduated from the University of Michigan; the same school Criss graduated from in 2009. “I’m literally the upperclassman on stage,” Darren jokes. Shen plays a fellow thrown-out helper bot named Claire, who ends up bringing the spontaneity out of Oliver.  But, with newness comes risk. Those in the artistic universe know that participating in original productions bears a certain weight on one’s shoulders; tenfold when you’re riding high from a previously successful project. Will it be successful? Will it resonate with the audience? How will it affect one’s reputation?  Maybe Happy Ending may be a completely new production on Broadway, but it ultimately asks an age-old question: Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? “There are prerequisites to every good story,” Criss says. “Themes of love, loss, life. Think of any Shakespearean play you’ve seen. These are universal macro-themes that are packed very neatly and effectively in the show.”  Speaking of universal themes, Oliver’s plant HwaBoon is perhaps the true star of the show. In fact, the last moments of the play zero-in on the plant before the curtains fall. “He’s a glorious symbol of love that can outlive time itself,” Criss says. When asked if he has a real-life HwaBoon of his own, he directs his answer to music. “As a musician, I have instruments whose sentimental value completely eclipses their actual effectiveness. My guitars, for example, have been there for many beautiful moments in my life.” For Criss, success as an artist isn’t measured by how many tickets sell. “Following your heart is a zero-loss game. I had a strong feeling about the piece even before we opened the show. Whether or not people actually caught on was up in the air, but I would’ve still been very happy either way. On an artistic level, I was so moved that even if it didn’t reach the height that it is at now, I would’ve talked about it very proudly 20 or even 30 years down the line.”  The show has been running since November 2024 with ticket sales currently grossing $20,889,683. But, the Tony nominations speak for themselves. A day after Criss offered this humble note of measuring success to Vogue, news broke that Maybe Happy Ending was nominated for 10 awards for the 78th annual Tonys. The categories include: Best Musical, Best Original Score, and Best Scenic Design. Darren Criss is nominated for Best Actor.  When Filipinos think of stars on Broadway who share their ethnic backgrounds, Lea Salonga quickly comes to mind. She is, after all, the first Asian woman to win a Tony award. There’s also Eva Noblezada who held roles in Miss Saigon and Hadestown; and Rachel Ann Go who had roles in Les Miserables and Hamilton. Darren Criss, whose mother hails from Cebu and has an affinity for Palawan, puts in a case for his right to join their ranks as legendary performers.  “I certainly don’t think of myself in that way,” he tells Vogue. “But, I think it’s my responsibility to rise to that occasion if that’s what people see me as. I especially look up to Lea Salonga in a revered way. I look at her as a beacon, but I wonder if she even sees herself in that way. See, it’s this sort of call to duty. Beacons give cause to our belief, and they make us feel like it’s worthwhile to believe in something. I am honored and privileged to be given that role if it’s given to me.”