#the scope of this game is very large

[signalhill-if]

will certain story routes block off others at any point, or are we going full skyrim?

I haven't actually played Skyrim beyond the intro, but it's going to work somewhat like New Vegas- there will be choke points at which you will need to pick who to side with, and if you piss a faction off, it'll lock you out of the rest of their leads. But that's going to be mid- or late-game, which, given that this game is being developed by one guy on my own and is probably going to clock in at like twice or three times the length of a David Cage script, is probably going to be years from now lol

[rainrot4me]

Don’t Close Your Eyes Yet

Summary: From the first moment he laid his eyes on you at the fairgrounds, Jack knew he needed you. So going about it the only way he knew how, he began to give you dreams of him, preparing you for the night he would eventually take you himself.

Characters: Laughing Jack x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Obsession, stalking, somnophilia, non-con, clawing, biting, size difference, vaginal, creampie, cunnilingus, desperation, Jack doesn’t take no for an answer, dream manipulation, kidnapping, begging, Jack is very talkative

Words: 5.2k

A/N: Did I make LJ a yandere accidentally? Yes. Just roll with it lol

To him, he had never seen something more beautiful.

Flashing lights danced across your face, hair whipping as you skipped to the nearest ticket booth with your friends. Loud giggles echoed to his ears, making his painted lips curl into a blushing smile as he watched you become antsy with excitement.

Jack had been rummaging around these fairgrounds for a couple of days, scoping out potential victims coming in to enjoy the seasonal summer event, lurking behind food stalls and blending into the crowd. He was good at that: staying hidden until he wanted to be seen, practically going invisible until the time was right. Humans had such a hard time with noticing things, noticing him, so even standing amongst them, their eyes never glanced at his towering self. It just made it easier to slip kids away from their occupied families, dragging them away with the promise of a game or a prize to be won, only to become giddy with the panic that ensued afterwards, mothers and fathers losing their grip as they scoured for their already deceased child. The clown was here for the fifth night this week, the summer breeze ruffling his feathered costume as he scanned a large group of elementary schoolers rushing towards a ferris wheel, picking his target out of the litter and moving in.

Until he spotted you, elbows wrapped tight around another girl’s right behind the kids, eyes wide as you picked out which rides you wanted to try first. A couple more friends filed in behind you, obnoxiously loud as they tried to impress you, daring each other to try the more frightening ones. Jack grit his teeth, jagged pearls clenching as he rolls his eyes, scoffing at the irritable sound of desperation. Your group pushed passed him, not a single eye batting in his direction as he tried to press through you all, distance gaining between him and the small group of children making their way to another set of rides. He looked down, making sure to avoid bumping any of you as even the tallest of your friends barely reached his chest, his size overbearing as he brushed past you, barely catching your eyes as you stopped.

Jack hesitated, feet planted into the ground as he turned over his shoulder, stunned as your eyes locked with his. At first, he wasn’t sure if you were just looking through him, neck craned in some odd position at something behind his head. But as you smiled awkwardly, nodding your head as a silent hello, Jack froze, eyes wide. You could see him. Before it became awkward, Jack nodded back, watching as you turned back and continued with your friends, all of them completely unaware of the exchange that just took place. There was no fear in your gaze as you glanced back again, smiling sweetly before friends pushed you towards the ticket booth and out of the clown’s sight.

He stood stunned, not knowing what to do but knowing he couldn’t let you slip, couldn’t let you out of his sight. It had felt like ages since someone had noticed him, actually noticed him. He had always chosen when he wanted attention, letting his appearance become visible to onlookers who otherwise wouldn’t have felt his presence at all, giving them a jump of fear at his arrival. But you saw him anyway, despite his invisibility, despite his ability to blend. For some reason, you weren’t afraid of his chilling appearance, brushing him off as another circus carnie and being more polite to him than anyone ever cared. Over the last several years, it had been nothing but screams and pleas, all music to his ears, of course, but some desperate tug on his nonexistent heart jumped at the civility you showed him. He needed more.

Pressing into the shadows of a taller fair ride, Jack watched you closely, the corners of his mouth jumping to a smile every time yours did. The group of kids he was after was long forgotten, intentions focused on following you towards the merry-go-round that sat in the center of the fairgrounds. He quickly followed, slipping through the unattended gates easily and hopping on the ride with you, seated on a plastic horse several rows back. As the ride started up, happy music played loudly as you giggled and slowly teetered up and down, joking with your friends. Your hair danced beautifully in the wind, bright lights and colorful tones dancing in your eyes and across your cheeks, a way that only really Jack could appreciate. 

There was no clear reason as to why you were able to see him when others couldn’t, pushing past his invisibility and meeting his gaze, but he didn’t care. For the rest of the ride and the rest of your time on the grounds, Jack made sure not to catch your attention again, watching you carefully how you interacted, your sweetheart personality pulling him ever-near. He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t focus anywhere else as he watched your group grow tired and begin to head towards the exit, a boy’s arm falling lazily over your shoulders and tugging you into his truck. 

Jack didn’t care as he left groups of potential victims behind, silently following you into the parking lot and hiding in the dark spots that even you couldn’t see him. He didn’t care as he followed you home, abandoning all instincts and mind becoming fogged as he watched you crawl into bed from your window, heart skipping as you curled in. You would be his. You had to be. You didn’t have a choice.

-

You had been unnerved for weeks.

It wasn’t anything serious. No traumatic experience or humiliating incident that kept you up into the late hours of the night, like most girls your age would’ve been. Maybe having to worry about what clothes you were going to wear the next day or who liked you at work would’ve been a much better thing to stay up and think about. No, it was something much more unenjoyable.

These dreams, wild and constant, happen every night at the same time. They would all start the same, you climbing into bed comfortably and snuggling in after a long day, desperate for a relaxing slumber. But then you would doze, senses leaving you in the darkness of your room, almost on the verge of slipping… and then you would hear it. The quiet, subtle echo of carnival music, almost like a music box was winding near your bed. You knew you were asleep, consciousness floating in that weird in-between, but you were somehow still fully aware, still active in your brain even though your body wasn’t. The first time it had happened, you were afraid, and confused if you were experiencing some weird lucid dream or having a seizure, but then it happened again the next night and the next.

After the music wound for what felt like forever, the same merry tune looping in your head, you would eventually see it, the tall figure. He would stay back in the haziness of your mind, in the shadows your brain couldn’t see, but you already knew who it was. 

The clown from the fair, smiling sweetly at you, stark-white face contrasted against the darkness of your dream. He was tall, like had to bend halfway down to reach your eye level tall, his limbs lengthy in comparison. He wore the same costume he did the first night you saw him, black and white striped and decorated with a feathered collar, like a sad recreation of a children’s entertainment piece. You didn’t know why you were seeing him, or why your brain was so focused on him, but it wasn’t like you could do anything to stop it.

The first couple of times, he just stayed at a distance, watching silently as you questioned him, trying to press towards him until you were abruptly awoken and left confused. Eventually, he started getting closer, refusing to speak but at least coming into clear focus, letting you see his painted face and chilling demeanor up close. But the more you talked, the more you questioned why he was here and why you were seeing him, the more eager he got.

The dreams started getting longer, more intense on your physical as you slept, constantly waking covered in sweat. The clown's hands began to roam, your body immovable against his curious claws as he rubbed and poked you all over, smiling at the reactions that came. They were sweet at first, tucking your hair behind your ear or caressing your small hands, but they soon became feisty. The touches grew to rubs, pressing his arms around your smaller body and pushing against your skin, gripping at your clothes and tugging them away, claws so realistically scratching against your warmth. With each dream, the intensity grew, your body waking up in a horny panic to settle itself out, panting against your pillow and trying to recollect yourself. It was boggling, so confused and pent up that you couldn’t do anything but fall right back to sleep, starting the cycle all over again.

Jack watched through every night. He perched in the corner of your room, lips curling to a smile with every flinch and tug of your body as he manipulated your dreams, making you see and feel what he wanted you to. He never let you see him, disappearing into the night whenever you would wake, but always arriving the next night to watch you again. It was his favorite, the little noises that squirmed from your lips when he would press his claws between your legs in your dream, making your thighs press together on your bed. He loved it, he loved you. But, he was becoming impatient, not satisfied with just having you in your mind anymore. He had coaxed you enough, driving you to expect him now, mind already conditioned to his looks and his touch; you would be familiar now. Your body would accept him now, even if your mind didn’t.

-

Pressed in the same corner as always, he was twisting your latest dream, giving you the wonderful experience of him licking against your neck, rubbing you through your panties as you wined and thrashed on your bed. Jack snickered, long arms crossed and claws digging into his clothes as he watched, licking his spikey teeth as you arched your back. 

He had decided tonight would be it, the first time you would see him outside of your slumber. Regardless if you were ready or not, he was, and he didn’t know if he could wait much longer to get his claws around you. The clown spent the better part of the day watching you, thinking about you, obsessing over your sickly sweet self. You were perfect, a complete contrast to him, but fitting his needs perfectly. 

When you suddenly rolled to your side, curling into yourself as you panted, cheeks flushed and dark as you whined, Jack’s attention came back. The darkness of your room was lit nicely by a small nightlight, the little sun and moon design shooting pastel colors across your warm skin and making you look so lovely, enough to make the clown press off the wall. 

Your bed was small, definitely going to be barely enough for the two of you as he kneeled onto your mattress, dipping the weight and making you shift, whining from your dream. “Hi, pretty.” Jack cooed softly, brushing your hair out of your flushed face and leaning down towards you, breathing in your lovely smell. He loved everything about you, every small detail that no human would ever notice, only his unnatural abilities could pick up on. You needed him, he could smell it, feel it. Pressing his body down onto the mattress, he curled around you, spooning you against him as he wrapped his arms around your small waist, tugging you closer. You immediately relaxed against him, back arching to accommodate his large stature and legs tangling with his long ones, breathing deep as he snuggled behind. The clown’s claws danced on your skin, tugging at your clothes and brushing against your hair, smiling as he placed small kisses against your tired face. You melted into him, mind completely unaware as he still mixed in your dreams, contorting your senses to automatically crave him. 

“So small… smells good…” He mumbled against the shell of your ear, a subconscious gasp slipping as goosebumps rose. Jack kissed against your neck, minding his long nose and nibbling against your skin, slowly fading your dream out and substituting it for real life. You whined, hands gripping onto his wandering arms and tugging at them, snoring lightly. Small mumbles fell from your mouth, little confused jabbers and sleepy questions that he couldn’t quite hear, but pressed his lips to the shell of your ear anyway. “Jack.” He whispered, kissing against your neck as your browns knitted, sleep heavy on your brain. “Jack…” You mumbled back halfway through a sigh, pressing your neck against his mouth, mindlessly feeding into the clown’s growing arousal. “Jack…” You whispered again, beginning to numbly repeat the name and let it settle in your mind, Jack’s excitement bouncing at the delicious way you said it. As you continued, he began to push your shirt up, palming at your tits and tugging the fabric over your head, letting the goosebumps rise as he ran his claws down. “Pretty girl.” He smiled, nibbling against your bare shoulder.

The clown’s cock was throbbing now, nestled comfortably against your ass as he began to slowly rut against you, long tongue lapping at your warm skin. He drew a claw up, wrapping it around your tiny throat and squeezing slightly, grinning at the sigh that he pushed out as he pressed his hips against your flesh. His cock slotted perfectly between your clothed asscheeks, hips jerking and stuttering as he chased his arousal, holding your hips still as he moved. Draped slightly over you, he pinned you in place, the sheer weight of the clown securing your hips as he moaned into your ear, panting his approval as he humped against you. Your body subconsciously pressed back against him, back arching to get a better angle of his clothed cock against you, letting his claw mindlessly rouse you from your deep sleep and slowly into consciousness. He felt you stir, wrapping a claw around your jaw and turning your head, watching as your eyes slowly fluttered open. He pressed his lips to yours, tugging your cheek and shoving your lips against his, forcing a desperate makeout that your tired brain couldn’t comprehend yet. Jack panted and groaned into your open mouth, lips occasionally catching but he was too focused on rutting his hips, grinding his clothed cock against your ass as you shifted, straining against his rough grasp.

“Jack…” You sighed again, the name repeating like a quiet mantra as your tired brain tried to figure out what was happening, hips instinctively leaning into it because you felt so good despite being so dazed out. “Jack..?” You began to question, hands pressing against his claw snagged onto your hip, cheeks squished together as the clown kissed against the corner of your lips, panting against the skin. Jack dug his heels into your sheets, long limbs contorting to fit around you as you began to squirm, trying to press out of his grasp now, trying to understand what was happening. “Lay still, pretty girl…” He hissed, tip catching on the band of your panties, tugging them up as he rutted, nails digging into your soft skin. You whined, pushing on the sheets and trying to turn around, trying to see who was behind you, but the clown held you still, beginning to guide your hips with his.

It helped that you were already aroused from your dream, body already hot and bothered and easily coaxed into his movement, taking little persuasion for you to open your legs and let his cockhead nudge against your clothed entrance. You mewled, hissing against his teeth nibbling into your skin, little welts appearing across your shoulder. “Feel how hard you make me… Can’t wait to be inside… Can’t wait…” Jack was huffing, burying himself into the crook of your neck as he pushed his hard cock against you, practically forcing your panties into your entrance as he nudged at your hole, trying to make himself inside despite his slacks covering him. He throbbed, claws desperate and tongue curling against your neck, lapping at your sweat and scent of excitement. You didn’t have to look anymore, didn’t have to guess as the ruffles of his collar pressed against the back of your head, long limbs swallowing you, dreams had revealed enough for you to know, enough for you to grind down against him. How he was here, how he had gotten into your bed, how he even knew where you lived, you were too tired to guess, too tired to do anything but let his claws guide you under him, his body sliding down yours. This dream was more intense than the others, it felt real, you tried to convince yourself you were still asleep, still dozing alone in your bed during this wet dream.

But as claws slipped into your panties and desperately tugged off of your soaked cunt, pulling them off of your ankles, you began to question. Jack’s large claw snagged around both of your ankles, holding them in the air as he kneeled, sliding his suspender straps off of his shoulders. You watched through sleepy eyes, eyelashes fluttering as he let the straps fall at his hips, unbuttoning his slacks and tugging them down, letting his angry cock slip out, balls tugged out and laid heavy between his legs. You gasped, whining as he kneeled closer, prying your legs apart and grinning at your sopping pussy. “Gonna eat you out, pretty girl. Gonna make that pussy cum, m’kay?” He chuckled, bright eyes roaming your tiny body compared to his, laying down on his chest as he wrapped his long arms around your thighs, dragging you closer.

You squirmed and whined, letting your hands run down your body and to his wild dark hair, snagging in the mess and tugging his face closer, letting your thighs press open. You had no fear, blissfully unaware of how real this situation was as Jack licked your folds open, long tongue twirling and flicking against your lips. He groaned, kissing against your soaked arousal before pressing his tongue in, nudging the muscle into your entrance and letting your back tug off the bed, curling your hips down onto his tongue as you moaned. Jack was so into it, so focused on pushing his tongue as deep as he could that he could hear you begin to panic, tugging his hair back as you realized that tongue was far longer than you anticipated. It jolted you out of your tired haze, the sensation of your walls stretching around the clown’s large tongue made you keenly aware of just how little this felt like a dream anymore, how real this all seemed. Jack just continued, curling and twisting his tongue along your plush walls, wanting only to soak in your lovely taste and get you ready for him, what he knew you needed. 

You began to jabber your sobs, mumbling against your moans and whining for Jack to stop, hips twitching against the overwhelming feeling. You could hardly breathe, every press of his tongue against your g-spot making you suck in a ragged breath and cry out, gasping for relief. Jack began to thrust his cock into the bed below, rutting against the soft sheets as he became so turned on by your noises, bright eyes clenched shut as he worked. He whined into your cunt, sloppy and messy movements pushing slobber and arousal against his chin, smearing it along your thighs and cheeks, Jack losing himself in your taste. “So tasty…” He babbled against your folds, sucking your lips as he gushed into your cunt, cock whining to be buried inside and stretching you open. You were clawing at the sheets, pushing against his head as you pleaded for him to stop, overstimulation rushing over you as you stuttered, clit pulsing as your thighs shook, begging to close. Jack wouldn’t listen, he could barely even hear you over the roar in his ears, his primal urge to stuff you ruling out any remorse he felt for your aching pussy. 

Despite your pleas, you were cumming quickly against his tongue. Walls clenching and hips spasming around the girth of his tongue, clenching down tight as your arousal soaked in. Jack whined, moaning loud into your folds as he sucked and lapped at your juices, claws dug tight into your thighs as he moved his head with your flinching hips, refusing to let up until he tasted every drop. You cried, sobbing into your hands as he held you still, breath heavy and chest panting as you rode your high, overstimulation pinching at your senses. Jack had rutted a wet spot into your sheets, cock leaking profusely as he lifted off, sliding his soaked tongue out of your dripping cunt and grinning, panting against your thighs. 

You could barely look through hooded eyes at the mess he had made, white face paint smeared across your thighs and folds, sweat and arousal smearing the paint against your skin. It was enough to make Jack cum, his cock twitching hard in the air as he sat back, admiring his paint all over you. You whined, pushing against his claws wrapped around your thighs as he tugged them open again, positioning his hips against yours.

He nestled his cock against your cunt, gripping the length and slapping it down against your clit and making you jump, sensitivity pulsing through you. “No… please…” You whined, trying to clench your thighs together but he held your ankles easily, holding them arm's length apart. “Why are you this turned on if you don’t want it, pretty girl?” He mused, dropping one of your ankles to line his tip with your entrance, the girth much bigger than any cock you had taken before and making your skin chill as he began to push. You frantically clawed at the sheets, trying to push away from the clown. “It won’t fit.” You whined, pushing your hands to cover your aching cunt as Jack laughed, abandoning your legs to wrap a claw around your wrists, pining them above your head as he repositioned, nudging himself in. “You’ll learn to take it…” He chuckled, using his free hand to hold your soft hips down as he pushed in, the tip popping in against the wetness and warmth of your cunt. It probably wouldn’t fit as comfortably as you wanted it to, but when your tightness began to squeeze around Jack’s already-about-to-cum cock, he didn’t mind hearing your desperation if it meant he got to feel you. 

“You were made for me, lovely.” Jack hissed against your ear as he lay on top of you, slowly guiding your hips down as he pushed in, stretching your cunt impossibly wide as you cried, sobbing into the lips that began to press against yours. This wasn’t a dream, not anymore, you realized. A claw held down your wrists above your head, the other sliding under your knee to push your leg back, opening your entrance wider to give the clown a better angle. He moaned loudly, laughing through whines as he began to shallowly thrust, the first couple inches pushing in and out of your cunt as you sobbed, straining against him. “That’s it. Let me in, let me fuck you like you need to be…” He smiled, lazy laughs and heavy groans filling your open mouth as he sucked on your lips, nibbling his teeth into your jaw. With every thrust he aimed to go deeper, to push his cock in further than the last one.

It was devastating for your cunt, the poor sensitive thing struggling to balance out the pleasure and pain that was wrecking you as you arched, trying to open up more. “Can you feel me inside? Do you even know how good you feel?” Jack laughed, moving to bite down against your neck, hissing as he licked against the wound, kissing down your shoulder. He was getting deeper down, cunt relaxing the longer he thrust, walls fluttering around the desperate length that begged to bottom out, getting ever closer. It was so deep you felt like you couldn’t breathe right, gut flinching and contorting with every press against your sensitive gut. 

Loud skin slapping echoed as Jack’s cock began to press against the deepest part of your cunt, nudging against your womb and fucking you open quickly. His balls slapped your ass, the heavy mounds smacking down as he leaned back, letting go of your wrists to cup his hands under your knees, pushing them back as you began to paw at his chest. “Mngonna fuck you so full… Milking me like you need it.” He panted between thrusts, tugging his hips out as far as he could before pushing back into your gushing cunt, loud squelches and soaked folds coating his length. He was close, bright eyes rolling softly as you gripped his ruffled collar, tugging against it as he snapped his hips, moaning against your skin. “You were made for me, pretty girl. Need to cum… Mngonna cum and show how good it feels in you…” He smiled, blubbering against his swollen lips as he pressed his lips with yours, whining into your mouth as he spilt.

His cum was hot and thick, pumping into your ruined cunt desperately like he truly needed you full, big with his seed. He groaned loud, eyes clenched shut as he thrust through his orgasm, milking his cock of all it was worth inside of you, twitching deep into your warmth. “That’s it… So good… Knew it would be…” He hissed, clawing into the underside of your thighs as he raised off of you, licking a stripe across your cheek and nibbling the flesh before leaning back.

You waited for him to pull out, to let his thick cum spill against your sheets, but he didn’t. He only turned you onto your side, leaving his still-hard cock nestled in your cunt as he tugged your right leg onto his shoulder, relaxing back against you. You watched through heavy, panicked eyes, clawing at your pillow as he began to thrust again, sensitive cunt screaming at you as his nudged his cum back in. You immediately began to kick your legs, pushing him away as he just pressed deeper, claw wrapping around your thigh as he wrapped around the other, tugging your body to his with every thrust. Tears spilt, the air from your lungs gasping out as Jack cried out, clenching his sharp teeth as he watched you come undone again, relishing in the way you stared back at him, eyes pleading. “Don’t close your eyes yet, pretty girl… Just one more, I need it, just one… You can take it, I know you can, yeah?” Through every thrust, he chanted some desperate coax, your answering whines and sobs combatted against your cunt that fluttered against his words, fucking his cum deeper into you. Even though your mind refused, Jack had conditioned you, preparing you for him. Even if you didn’t know it, your body wanted him, beckoned for him, needed him. He couldn’t let you down.

Pushing his chest down, he bent your leg on his shoulder, pushing it down and opening your cunt wider, shoving his hips so deep even he gasped against the tightness. “Jack-” You cried, palming against his claws and scratching at his shirt, trying to ground yourself as your body racked under his tugs, bones going limp under him. You were so tired, so delusionally overstimulated you couldn’t physically resist, only your unheard begs falsely wishing for relief, but you knew better, knew that every time your cunt strained around the girth it was a heavenly feeling. “What, pretty? C’mon, talk.” Jack whined, kissing against your calf and nibbling at the skin, turning you onto your back to tug your other leg up onto his opposite shoulder, pushing them both back. With every thrust of his hips, his cum leaked out of your entrance, pooling between your cheeks and mixing with your arousal.

You cried at the deepness, every slap of his hips pushing his cock against your g-spot, nails clawing against his shoulders as his claws rested on your tits, massaging the mounds as he thrust. “So big… Deep…” You gasped out, arching into the feeling as your stomach coiled, your orgasm teetering at the edge. Jack grinned, jagged teeth shining against your nightlight as he continued, spreading his knees to get a better push, skin slapping loud enough to echo against the small room. “Can you cum again, lovely? Cum for me?” You nodded, running your hands into his messy hair and holding stable, tugging as he grinned, speeding his thrusts to a nauseating pace.

You were cumming around his cock hard, hips jerking and slamming against his as you writhed, eyes rolling back as your cunt swallowed him deeper. “Just like that…” Jack mewled, letting his own thrusts become lazy as he grit, whining against the tightness of your cumming walls. The clown was quick to follow, spilling yet again deep inside, fucking his orgasm into you as he refused to stop, pushing your senses into overload as you sobbed, tears running down your cheeks. Jack let your ankles slip off of his shoulders, pressing his chest down against yours as he licked into your mouth, pressing his lips down as you milked his cock dry, tugging the last of his orgasm through with your own. 

You both panted heavily, desperate touches continuing against each other’s skin as you both made out, lying the afterglow of your mutual ecstasy. “So pretty… my pretty girl… mine.” Jack slipped between kisses, letting his cum leak as he slowly pulled out, popping the tip of his cock out of your tight rim. You whined, letting his claws feel your soft skin as he tugged you against him, letting your eyes flutter closed as you felt his cum spill onto the sheets below.

Sleep overtook you, the early hours of the morning tugging at your sore bones as you relished in the feeling of no more perverted dreams keeping you stirred. But when your bed lay empty the next morning, sheets askew and cum stained into the fabric, your friends would have no clue where you went. They would have no clue whose arms you were draped in, carried closely through the woods and out of sight and reach of anyone who wanted you. You were special, different from the mindless humans he preyed upon, you were his. He had claimed you fair and square.

No one wanted you as Jack did. And no one would ever get the chance to again.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[prokopetz]

I think everybody who's hand-wringing about Silksong not having a demo out for Next Fest needs to bear in mind that metroidvanias (and metroidvania-adjacent genres, e.g., Zelda-likes) are some of the most labour-intensive games to produce, and that most well-regarded indie examples of the type were in development for a very long time.

Phoenotopia: Awakening was in development for seven years; Ghost Song and Owlboy, for nine years; Iconoclasts, for eleven (if you count the development period of the cancelled Ivory Springs prototype; eight years if you don't); and if Radio the Universe makes its tentative 2023 launch date it'll have been in the works for thirteen years.

Of course, the elephant in the room is Hollow Knight itself. By all reports, it only took four years to produce. There are a couple of caveats that need to be attached to that, however: first, that how quickly Hollow Knight was turned out is one of the most notable things about it – many AAA studios would struggle to turn around a game of that scope in so little time, much less an indie studio! (For reference, four years is also about how long it took Nintendo and MercurySteam to turn out Metroid Dread.) Second, anyone who remembers how janky Hollow Knight's gameplay was at launch will understand that such extraordinarily rapid development came at a cost.

Point is, Silksong, which has been in development since 2019, is only just now reaching the point of having been in the works for as long as its predecessor, and even if it does take until 2024 or 2025 to come out, that would still put it on the extreme low end of expected development times for a large indie metroidvania. Missing the 2023 Next Fest is not a sign of danger ahead.

[clazaries]

The Thin Line Between Victory and Survival NSFW!

(Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!soldier!reader)

Summary: Having been newly promoted, your first mission with Delta Force goes wrong and you have to deal with the consequences of going against Santiago's orders

w/c: 6.6k

Warnings: NSFW! war environment, slight knife play, masturbation (f!reader), oral (m!receiving), self-edging, orgasm denial, choking, dom!Santi, p in v, slight fluff at the end, think that's everything?

a/n: reader's callsign is 'Midge'. this takes place after the events of triple frontier but where the gang are still active members of Delta Force. I kinda imagined Santiago as Ghost from COD (cos daddy)

ENJOY!

***

“Frankie. Sit rep?”

“ETA 30 seconds. Sit tight.” 

“Rog’.” Santi’s gravelly voice worms its way into your ear in harsh rumbles as you begin to take position at the edge of a sandy cliff, overwatching the vast desert valley ahead of you. His voice shakes the nerves inside you that are already on high alert. You remind yourself to turn down your comms when you can afford the chance. “Midge, how copy?” 

You perk to attention at the sound of your nickname and respond accordingly. “Loud and clear, sir. In position. Eyes on Frankie.” 

Towards the heart of the valley, Frankie’s distant figure calmly approaches the enemy-riddled farm under the cover of darkness and you watch with bated breath through a window of green. Directly ahead of you, even further away on the mirroring side of the valley is your superior Santiago “Pope” Garcia, providing overwatch just as you are. You can’t see him but you know he’s there, like a ghost lurking in the shadows. Even though you are just as concealed as he is, you have this disconcerting feeling that he’s very much capable of plucking you out, watching you.

You readjust yourself nervously.

It’s incredibly dark with nothing but the twinkling stars and Jupiter’s bright sparkle to keep anyone sane. Without the night vision goggles, you are a lost hope. They sit squarely on your nose, grinding the bone and encasing your eyes, and the sweat trickling down your neck is no home comfort either, but now is not the time to be complaining. You have a job to do. 

Having been recently promoted for your sharp shooting and bright mind, you’re no longer an extra in someone else’s play, you’re the real deal now. You’re still taking orders no less, except now word doesn’t have to pass through at least three ranks above you like a game of Chinese Whispers before you receive the order. 

Every mission is different but your response has always been the same: subdued nerves to begin, then before long, you’re in your element and the job gets done. However, this task in particular has your heart beating a little harder and you don’t sense it settling any time soon. The whole mission is unnerving. It’s just you, Frankie and Santiago, sent out into the middle of nowhere to retrieve controls for a weapon that’s been missing from the US government for three years. The very same that is currently being protected and fortified by an armada of Russian extremists. Every minute in between the initial briefing and your current breath has been spent quietly fretting about it.

This mission alone has introduced a lot of firsts for you; first time working with Delta Force rather than for, first time working off the grid, first time working in a squad with fewer than 5 comrades beside you, first time being completely and hopelessly outnumbered…

First time feeling extremely, extremely doubtful. 

“Remember, this is a covert operation and completely off the grid so keep it quiet. Frankie, I want you in and out before they even get a whiff that you were ever there, and Midge--” you gulp, “keep Frankie alive.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Frankie’s voices ring through simultaneously. By now, Frankie has approached the back door of the barren barn, a large building that no doubt houses a number of enemies inside. Through your scope, you witness Frankie infiltrating the barn, his voice verbally confirming it seconds later. “I’m in. Going dark.”

“Copy that.” 

The second you lose sight of him you take a hefty breath, letting it flood your lungs while the waiting game begins. From out here, there’s nothing you can do for him except warn him of any outside movements. As of right now, he’s on his own, doing what he does best. 

“Stay sharp.” 

You keep quiet on your side of comms, too paranoid to risk speaking unnecessarily. Instead, you keep your wits on what’s in front of you. There’s no movement, not even a breath of wind to shake the lonely tree that stands at the far end of the farm and it feels as though time has stood still. If it wasn’t for the mouse scuttling underneath your sniper stand, you would’ve thought so.

The little creature skips and hops over the rocks to your right, stopping every couple of seconds to clean the dust from its ears. Cute. You quirk a smile at the thought of something as simple as a mouse breaking the tension that’s riddling your bones. God knows you need it. Every fibre of your being is buzzing with uncertainty and the heavy nauseating feeling in your stomach is enough of a sign that something about this mission just isn’t right. Some would call it instinct, others would call it a load of rubbish, regardless, the feeling is there and you’re not willing to ignore it. 

In all honesty, you would’ve carried out this mission entirely differently if you had the authority. But that’s the thing. You don’t. Outranked and out-experienced by the two men alongside you, you had no option but to play by their rules. Where you would’ve gone all-in, they chose to keep their cards close to their chests. 

You never agreed with the idea that less is more. Not in the military. 

Ten agonising minutes pass by. Nothing has been said and nothing warrants being said. Everything about you is screaming to point out the obvious; that something clearly isn’t going right. Frankie should’ve been out by now.

“I don’t like this. It’s too quiet. Nothing’s happening.” 

Santiago instantly replies, a slight ring of chagrin evident in his tone. “Good. Means we haven’t been compromised.” 

“Then why isn’t he out?” 

“Patience, Midge. Keep focussed.” 

You’re seconds away from overstepping boundaries and saying something you shouldn’t, but the moment you open your mouth, you spot a black vehicle off in the distance, quickly morphing into view as it speeds across the expanse of the valley with a plume of dust trailing behind it. It’s heading directly towards the farm. 

“Be advised. Vehicle inbound coming in from the north. Pope, you see it?” 

“Affirmative. Six Russians inside and likely armed. Do. Not. Engage. Frankie, get the hell on with it and get those controls.” 

The vehicle approaches and screeches to a stop, the occupants immediately disperse from the vehicle with rifles in hand. Fear shoots through you, wide eyes pinned on the door Frankie entered through, desperate for it to open again and see Frankie escape but alas, no sign of him. “Come on, come on, come on…” 

“Enemies heading towards the front entrance.” 

“I’ve got a shot on two of them.” 

“No. Stand down. Do not engage. They don’t know we’re here, we can’t draw attention to ourselves.” Pope’s voice rages through your earpiece again and you wince, both from his tone and volume. 

“Why the fuck are we here then?” 

“To prevent a ruckus from happening. If we engage, we’ll be the reason for it. Now shut up and keep your eyes peeled. Frankie, for Christ’s sake, you better have those controls.” 

You listen intently for his voice, hoping that he’s succeeded and he’s on his way back, but when you hear a slight crackle, a groan and high-pitched frequency piercing through the comms, you assume the worst. Your heart stops dead in your chest when you hear a shot being fired, its echo carrying the weight of dread right to your position. “Fuck! Santi--” 

“Frankie! Do you copy?” 

Short, resounding booms resonate from the farm and you’re left with no doubt that Frankie’s position has been compromised, leaving his life and the controls to this weapon at stake. You can’t afford to lose both and you’re certain that Pope knows that too, so why isn’t he giving the order for backup? 

“He needs help!” 

“Stay put! I can’t risk losing two of you. This is Pope to Ironhead, how copy?” 

You drown out William’s voice with worries of your own, constantly watching for signs of Frankie’s survival but to no avail, you find none. You knew this mission was never going to succeed. Your instinct was right. And based on that fact alone, what’s to stop you assuming that when your gut instinct is now telling you to go and extract Frankie and the controls yourself, it’s the right decision no matter what your orders are?

“Fuck this.” With haste, you pack up your equipment, whipping it over your shoulder with a new-found surge of adrenaline pumping through you. The hill you’re perched on isn’t tall, but it is steep, so as you run down the slope, your body falls faster than your legs can keep up. The howl of air blows past your ears and the clinking and clanking of your equipment rattles with each step. Even still with the cacophony of sounds, nothing can be louder than your boss’s rage. 

“Midge! What the fuck are you doing? Get back to your position!” 

You don’t bother responding because you’re too out of breath…and mostly because you’re shit scared. When you hear his voice again, you’re at the door Frankie entered through with a shaky hand holding your pistol and the other tightly gripping the handle. 

“Midge, so help me God, if you take another step--” 

“We can’t leave Frankie!”

“We don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But we know the controls are in there, if we can’t get one, we’ll get the other.”

“NO! You get back here right fucking now!” The scratch of his growl descends down your body, making you curl your toes. Suddenly, a farm full of Russian extremists doesn’t seem to be your biggest threat…

“I’m going in.” 

A grunted sigh crackles through the comms as Pope watches you push through the door into chaos. 

“Just so you know, if you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.” 

~~~~

Miraculously, you did exactly that. You survived. Not only did you extract Frankie’s beaten body and save his life, you also retrieved the controls before they got away. You can’t deny that the odds were slim and it did nearly cost both of your lives, but at the expense of breaking a few rules and a few bones, you made it. And you won’t apologise for a single bit of it sitting here in an unused briefing room with Santiago. 

The tale of twists and turns didn’t end when you and Frankie both made it out alive only hours ago, in fact, it continues with Santi; a man with chains around his heart, a shield around his mind and a look of steel donning his face. It is fair to say his reputation precedes him, especially since his comrade Redfly died years ago. Before you met him officially, you had only ever heard of his emotionless gaze, his inhuman self-restraint and deeply enigmatic personality, and you found it strange that no one told you what it was like to be around him. Until Frankie told you that how you felt being in a room with him could not be explained through words, it was something you had to experience for yourself. 

Frankie was right. You had to be there to see that he was stronger, colder, smarter, more intimidating than anyone had let on. His presence wasn’t one to be easily swallowed. It was obvious that strangers couldn’t settle the unease they felt when he walked into the room; cautious eyes, bitten lips, fidgeting muscles. They succumbed to his eerie, silent domination very quickly. Quicker if those dark eyes were locked on you. They were seared into the back of your mind the moment they landed on you for the first time, remembering how you just couldn’t decipher the encrypted messages they hid. Whoever stated that the eyes were windows to the soul had clearly never met Santiago.

But tonight, that restraint is gone. He is positively seething. Outwardly, publicly, irrationally seething. In the dimly lit room, he stands menacingly in the corner where the light doesn’t quite reach, yet still you can see his knuckles tensing and untensing with each breath he takes. You don’t say a word, quietly picking at the forming scab on your knuckle, and in your head, you speak the words you don’t have the conviction to say out loud. 

“Do you have any idea how fucking reckless you are?” 

You slowly peer up to him, his words still processing as you narrow in on him. “Reckless? With all due respect, my actions saved a man’s life and finished the mission. What part of that is reckless?” 

“The part where you didn’t follow my orders! You went rogue. Off plan. Completely out of line. If you don’t follow orders, you don’t know how it will end. I could’ve lost you both unnecessarily.” 

“Could’ve,” you mutter.

He begins to loom closer, taking every word of yours like they’re a sour taste in his mouth. In muted tones, he whispers out to you. “What?” 

“You said you could’ve lost us both. But you didn’t.” The words feel like liberation. It’s the first time you’ve ever behaved like this. It’s so uncharacteristic but you just feel so insulted by his lack of gratitude or appreciation that anger bubbles inside you, spitting out words that you know you shouldn't, turning you into someone you definitely aren’t. You are usually a rule follower, you are usually obedient, and you usually respect authority, but in the blinding light of anger, you just can’t surrender to Santiago’s discipline so easily. 

“And you should’ve listened to me. But you didn’t. Nobody ever fucking listens to me and they end up dead because of it.” 

“Just because Redfly did, doesn’t mean everyone else will too.”

Low blow, Midge. 

Sensing immediate regret, you keep your eyes firmly pinned on your hands on the table in front of you. Like a dark rain cloud, you catch sight of his shadow engulfing your own. His stature and all-encompassing presence emerges behind you but you don’t dare move a single muscle. His hands curl around the back of the chair you’re sitting in, the pathetic plastic creaking under his fists. The brave front you’re putting on begins to yield to his growing temperament and the facade crumbles piece by piece. 

Everyone in the unit had heard of what happened when a certain team of the Delta Force went rogue. The US Army had never let them live it down since.

He leans his head over your stiff shoulder and you can even feel the heat of his anger just glazing over the shell of your ear. 

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Santiago spits every word with heavy articulation as if he’s etching the words into your brain. His laboured breathing is a concern, knowing that it’s a warning of the wrath that’s about to ensue. “Redfly didn’t follow my orders to stand down and it inevitably got him killed. And right now, the same might happen to you.”

With a sharp, unexpectant tug of your hair, your head whips back, swinging the chair with you until the overhead light burns into your eyes. Reflexes have your hands gripping the edge of the table until they turn white with tension, stopping yourself from tipping backwards. The sudden blade on your neck stops you moving forward.

“Do you remember what I said to you before you disobeyed me?” 

You remember all too well. If you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.

“You wouldn’t.” 

Santiago presses the blade harder against your skin, unapologetic. “Wouldn’t I?” 

You really don’t know whether to call his bluff but to stay on the safe side you remain silent. Until anything happens, you are both stuck staring into each other’s eyes, holding a resentment none of you are willing to let go of. Looking up at him, it’s obvious that he is teetering on the edge of breaking a few rules himself, allowing the sharp edge of the knife to roll across the expanse of your neck, bobbing as you swallow, until the sharp point rests precariously atop your pulse. But even he knows himself that he wouldn’t follow through with it, because as much as it pains him to admit it, your courageous actions, although downright stupid, did save Frankie’s life and secured the controls. And he fucking hates it. If there was anything he could do to scare the absolute shit out of you to stop you being so smug and defiant about it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Santiago,” you warn, just as the point of the knife starts to break through the thin layer of skin on your neck. You try to move your head but he still has his fist entangled through your roots. 

The instant the little whine of his name broke from your lips, something snapped inside him. The desperation of it, it was too provocative for him to ignore and an electrical feeling pulsed from his chest and shot straight towards his dick. Having you in his tight clutches, essentially at his mercy, exacerbated the feeling and suddenly he could feel himself growing hard. Fuck, what was he doing?

It’s perverse of him to want to hear it again, to see those plump but bitten lips of yours say his name again in a plea for his forgiveness. He becomes so fixated on the idea that he gets carried away, pricking your skin with the knife, watching as your eyes widen and your body writhing beneath him. 

“AHH! Pope--fuck--okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry, just…please let go of the knife.” There it was again, the slight twitch in his dick, one that makes him grow uncomfortable beneath his boxers. 

It’s one thing for Pope to be angry, but when lust is thrown into the equation, there’s much less he can do to suppress it and with you still whimpering beneath him, it’s something he’s quickly realised. 

He relieves the pressure of the knife just enough to alleviate the pain but not enough that you haven’t completely escaped its threat. He moves out of your sight, his head dropping lower until his lips are gracing across your ear. You hear nothing but his slow breathing, funnelling down your ear and you instantly shiver. You want to pull away from him but for some reason, you’re chemically drawn into him; his close proximity, the smell of him, the hold he has on you, it’s all so…dangerously alluring. Something changes and the air starts to grow hot. 

“Y’know,” he purrs, “I can’t allow you stay on my team if you can’t listen to my orders--” 

“No! No, I-I want to stay.” 

“How do I know you won’t pull something stupid like this again, hm? You’re still a rookie, you’re not an addition to this team, no, what you are is a liability. Your actions today proved to me that you are just not capable.” 

“I am. I was promoted for a reason.” 

“Yeah? Prove it. Prove you’re capable and I might consider keeping you on my team.” 

“How?” 

“It’s simple,” he says, his lips trailing from your ear to skim across your cheek, just teasing with feather light touches. “Follow…my…orders. Do you understand?” 

Your cheeks are burning, your lungs are heaving, everything about this screams ‘this is a risk you shouldn’t take’. But it’s hard to heed those words when Santiago’s grip of your hair loossens to soothing scalp scratches, when the tips of his lips and his nose brush over your burning cheek, inhaling the scent of you, when your gut is telling you to listen to how tempted your body is, how wanting it is for him. 

Your thighs press together beneath the table. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes…what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Better. Stand up.” You swing forward so fast that a violent rush of blood to your head almost makes you lose your balance, but Santiago keeps you up with a firm hold to your arm while he casually throws the knife onto the table. He perches himself in front of you to lean against the edge of the table, touching toe-to-toe and holds your gaze; bold, dark brown eyes that give nothing away about the inner workings of his mind. And it’s those same eyes that can read everything about you.

“Nervous, soldier?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“A…A little, sir.” 

“Good, you should be. Take off your top.” 

With those words, you know, that whatever happens from this moment on, Santiago will not be following any official protocol but his own. You do as he says, now feeling the heat of the room touching your bare skin. Santiago admires the way your belt hugs around your waist, waiting for the moment his hands can do the same when he’s fucking you from behind. Your bra is standard, nothing sexy. It’s what he expects on a day you had been on a mission, but what his eyes catch is your nipples pebbling through the material, and the slight blood stain discolouring the straps from the shrapnel wound to your shoulder that he didn’t realise you had. 

“At ease,” he commands. You act on instinct, bracing your hands behind your back with your legs standing shoulders-width apart. The instruction has been ingrained in you since the day you started your training. “You got hurt?”

“Minor wounds.” 

“Wounds you wouldn’t have had if you had listened to me.”

Fluttering warmth spreads from your core the moment Santiago cups your breast, your nipple weaving through his fingers and caught in a tight pinch. When you don’t react, he peers up at you to engage in a wordless conversation that both are in tune with. Keep going? Yes. He brings his other hand up to mirror the other and this time he finally elicits a small, but audible sigh from you. 

It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone like this, even longer for Santiago. His failures to locate his old contact Yovanna in Australia broke him and since then, he had sworn off getting close with anyone for fears of time repeating itself. As for you? You had yet to claim anyone as your own. Sure, you’ve had a few romances over the years but no one had ever satisfied you in the sick, slightly twisted way you were searching for. Up until now, you didn’t think there was a man out there who was interested in the same things you were. You didn’t think they existed.

Until you met Santiago. He is a thrill personified. 

It was impossibly cruel that the world had dealt you this hand; to fantasise over the ways his gravelly voice could murmur the dirtiest, filthiest things to you, the ways his experienced hands could ruin with the slightest of touches. However, you always knew that professionalism and the dangers of your line of work would always take priority over your fantasies, and you forced yourself out of your fictional world to come face to face with the harsh reality of war. It was a miracle how you were able to survive this long without going absolutely feral, but now, with Santiago losing his patience too, you’re starting to think that you won’t last much longer. 

“So fucking reckless,” he whispers, a reminder for both you and himself. His brow dips when his frustration rolls back in its tide, keeping that stone-cold expression hard on his face. It’s slightly different though. His parted lips, his vigorous movements, the slight pant to his breath. In your eyes, it all points towards desire more than frustration. “As your superior…” His voice is somehow quieter, but it’s heard all the same, “it’s my responsibility to punish you, to teach you a lesson about discipline. You need to learn that when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. You understand?” 

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck fluidly, your hands itching to wipe it away but obedience locks them behind your back. Suddenly, he snaps forward, his hand coming to snatch your jaw and force you to look him in the eyes. The precision of his quick movements makes you flinch, trapping a breath in your lungs and he notices, lips curling momentarily. 

“Yes, sir!”

Shivers follow wherever his other hand roams. He moulds out the shape of your waist and hips, squeezing tighter than your belt ever could. He begins to unbuckle your belt with little regard, popping the button of your trousers and bursting the zip to admire the way your trousers hang loosely from your hips. Everything inside you tenses at the sudden exposure.

Santiago begins toying with you, running his knuckles lightly over the edge of your underwear, dipping just the tip of his finger beneath the elastic rim, but retreats just as quickly. He follows the line of your navel, travelling up and up to trace small ghostly circles around your ribcage and it takes everything in you not to shudder. Your body can’t quite figure out how to tune into him, the stark contrast between the harsh grip he has on your jaw and the fluttering touches to your body has your mind going crazy and it’s mildly disorientating. 

His thumb circles around your chin before resting upon your bottom lip, pulling it out into a pout for his eyes to fixate on. He has that expression on his face that you’ve seen before; determined and fully resolute. The features of a man with authority. 

“That mouth…” he pants, “‘s gotten you into trouble today.” He draws you in until the tips of your noses clash and he’s a hair’s breadth away from kissing you. Instead���“I want to fuck it. Get on your knees, soldier.”

Your knees collide the cold surface of the ground almost instantly much to his pleasure. He wastes no time undoing his belt as efficiently as he did yours, and before too long the tip of his lengthy cock replaces where his thumb was just seconds before, wet with little beads of cum. Your hands reach out to guide him into your mouth but he snatches your wrist before you can commit. 

“Nuh-uh, this one’s for you. If you have some semblance of discipline, you’ll cum only when I say.”

You nod, falsely, and promptly take him into your mouth with one hand at the base of his cock while the other slips beneath your underwear and swirls around your clit the way you know best. A strangled groan leaves his throat and you feel the vibrations of it with the way his cock twitches in your mouth. The same pleasure buzzes in you, spreading warmth from your stomach down to your cunt. 

Despite having eventually found a rhythm that you can settle into, bobbing your head and taking as much of him as you can, you can’t find balance. Your multitasking skills have taken a hit because as soon as you feel the tight pinch of pleasure erupting from your clit, you know you can’t succumb to it and just like that, all your focus and effort turns to pleasuring him and the feeling dissipates. It’s torturous having to edge yourself, it’s not something you are particularly well-versed in. 

“So good, so fucking good,” he praises. Santiago’s hands come to scrape through your hair and take control, causing you to move faster and suck him down even harder, so much that you have to plant your other hand against his thigh to regain balance, going against his orders. He notices and chastises you. “Get that fucking hand back where it should be.” 

A moan gargles from your throat, a lack of patience wearing you thin. It doesn’t help that you’re incredibly turned on by the whole situation and you’re hesitant to touch yourself because of it, unsure how much more you can take before yet another one of Santi’s orders is disobeyed. So you take it slow, lazily circling around your bud just enough to keep you satiated while you occupy yourself with Santiago. Your mouth detaches from him with a pop, using those tear-stained eyes of yours to silently beg for his own release in exchange for your own but his head is thrown back and takes no notice, indulging in the way your tongue swirls around his tip. Just the sight of the vein popping from his neck is enough to send a rush of lust to mount up onto the orgasm that’s impatiently waiting. Fuck, you really need to cum. 

What gets his attention is your needy little whine. A whine that warns you both that you’re on the precipice of cumming, that if you pressed any harder on your sensitive clit you would combust. Your thighs are almost rattling beneath you.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns in a low growl, thrusting into your wet mouth and straight to the back of your throat. “Don’t you disobey me.” 

“I can’t hold on,” you splutter. 

“You can and you will. Fuuuck…” 

Decidedly, your hand comes to a halt because after all, this is about discipline, right? It’s all about being able to control yourself, to place your trust in him and listen to what he says hoping that it will all pay off. 

You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto your hand, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens. 

Santiago leans forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath, but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you proved yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Santiago pants. His grip loosens around you and you suck down a large breath as he releases you. The instant your lips are free, he forces you to a stand and claims them, humming into them with hunger. He slips his tongue past your lips searching for a taste of himself on you with a delectable moan. It only takes him a couple of seconds of clawing at your waist before his hand slips beneath your underwear to feel the result of your constant edging; a wet cunt that’s pleading for relief. The slightest touch of his fingers has your hips buckling, you’re so close it hurts. 

“So wet. So needy.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. You want it, you need it, you can’t live without it, for god sake, please!

“Yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “On whose authority?”

“Santiago, please.” 

“I told you this is about discipline and listening to orders--” his fingers drill into your clit with absolute precision and immediately takes control of your pleasure, luring it to the surface. “Did I say you could cum?” 

“No, but--” 

“Then you can’t. Have the discipline to stop it.” 

“Fuck!” Just seconds away from orgasm, you drop to a crouch, his hand slipping from you in one fluid movement. So close, so fucking close. 

Santiago maniacally chuckles above you. He has little sympathy for you hunched on the ground reeling into yourself, but what he does have though, is just a little pride. Pride that you listened, that you obeyed no matter how desperate you were to go against his word. Because, of course, in Santiago’s eyes, his word overrules everyone else’s. His word is gospel. What he says goes. 

You don’t get to relish the pride he has for you because you are spiralling. Your shaking body can’t allow you to stand knowing that even the slightest friction of anything against your clit would set you off and you’ve done so well to abide by his rules, you wouldn’t want to ruin it.

Santiago’s hand comes to stroke the back of your head in a supportive manner to find that you’re burning up. It’s obvious that you need release and that resides with him. 

“Stand up.”

“I…I don’t think I can.” 

“Come on,” he demands, his tone a little harsher. “Stand up and put your hands on the table.”

Shaky legs raise you to your feet and you brace yourself against the hard wooden table, the cold surface just a slight relief to the fire raging through your body. Santiago teases down your trousers leaving your panties to feel the brush of his hips against your ass, giving you a large hint of what’s to come. Your stomach plummets at the thought of having to hang onto the precipice for any longer. You could cry at the thought, tears ready and waiting behind your eyes. 

“Good girl,” he whispers seductively. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate for release that just one--” he lightly brushes your clit through your underwear, “little--” he does it again and you judder, “touch will set you off.” 

Jesus, you could cry. You could cry and cry and cry, and beg for forgiveness, yield and submit yourself completely to him for the one second of pure bliss you’re starving for. He’s reduced you to nothing but a licentious and needy beggar you don’t recognise. 

“How much longer can you last?” He knows, but it pleases him to ask anyway. 

“I’ll break if you touch me.”

“Perfect.” 

Wicked hands and fast reflexes rip your drenched underwear from you and Santiago mercilessly drills his cock straight into you. The second you feel him fill you up, one hand comes to encircle your neck, closing off your oxygen while his fingers find your clit once again and with just a few devious laps around your clit, you explode. A blinding light flashes behind your eyes and your body becomes engulfed by a white-hot pain that ironically, freezes you to the spot. Santiago growls loudly behind you, feeling how your pussy clenches so tightly around him that he’s barely spared an inch to move, but his fingers don’t face the same challenge and are still effortlessly ruining you to the core. There’s a pathetic attempt from you to remove his hand but his persistence remains far superior. 

Santiago relieves the pressure on your throat to hear you sing for him. You’re thankful the walls are thick enough to contain your cries. 

The thing is, Santiago knew you were close, but what he didn’t anticipate was how close he was too, especially so soon after you sucked him dry. With how intensely your pussy milks him of everything he has, it takes less than a few forceful thrusts before he succumbs to his orgasm and collapses on top of you. It washes over him hard, electrocuting every nerve and filling every pore with sweat. Fuck, he thinks, haven’t felt this good in years. 

Warmth envelopes you both, eyes fluttering to a close with the liberating feeling of release. Santiago, having just a little more sanity than you do, still has enough energy to lazily work his hips back and forth, fucking you so slowly and deeply, you think it might just trigger another explosion. Alas, he spares you the burden and finally comes to rest against you. 

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time the heat dwindles and air returns to your lungs. During the quiet minutes that pass, euphoria eases into your muscles, massaging out the cramp and any discomfort of your desperate attempts to contain your orgasm. The soft, grounding kisses that Santiago leaves at the nape of your neck seem to have a similar effect and you hum contentedly. 

“I mean it, by the way,” Santiago mutters behind you, still brushing his lips against your skin. “You really could’ve gotten yourself killed today.” His fingers trace down your shoulder, gently running across the bandage that covers your shrapnel wounds to reinforce his point. 

You sigh. “I know.” 

You feel him leave you, alleviating his weight and dressing himself. “Look at me.” 

You’re just about able to turn yourself around, and with Santiago’s help, he dresses you too. Once decent, the very hands that ruined you come to clamp against your cheeks, far too delicate for what you had known them to be. “What you did today was out of line—” 

This again. “But Frankie--” 

“Frankie is a different story. His mission to infiltrate the barn and receive the controls meant that the chances of him dying was a lot higher than ours. And even though it’s a fucking bastard of a pill to swallow, it’s just one of those things that we all have to come to terms with. I went into this mission already prepared to accept the possibility of his death should anything go wrong. Yours I wasn’t willing to accept.” 

“But I didn’t die.” 

“You’re not getting it.” His words are spat through gritted teeth and something in you sinks at the disappointment. The only thing that seems to calm him down is the sensation of your forehead against his, proof that you are alive. “Frankie’s death would’ve hurt, yes, but like I said, I would’ve seen it coming. If you expect disappointment, you won’t get disappointed. But when you threw yourself into the firing line like that, you started playing a game of Russian Roulette. Neither of us knew whether you were going to live or die and I panicked. I was so scared, terrified even at the thought of losing you because I knew I would never be able to recover from it. Your death, your untimely, unprecedented death under my watch would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life. That’s the difference between you and Frankie. That’s the lesson you need to learn from this.” 

Your eyebrows crunch together, feeling stupid for not coming to the realisation sooner. You feel embarrassed to admit that you had never thought of it like that. 

A long silence fills the room because you’re not too sure how to put the feeling of heavy regret into words, none of them justifiable enough to convey even a hint of the remorse that you feel inside. The fact that you refuse to look Santiago in the eyes is proof enough to him that you’re aware of the mistake you made, and instead of looking for a response, he settles for your silence and simply brushes his thumb across the highs of your cheek.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again, no matter how immoral it seems, no matter whose life is at stake, please, if at all possible, keep yourself safe.” 

“I promise.” 

He brings his lips to yours, melting them together in a kiss as though it is his last. “Good,” he smiles lightly, sealing the lesson with a kiss to your forehead. “I…I might’ve gotten carried away trying to get that message to sink in.” 

For the first time in a while, you smile. “It’s okay. I’ve definitely learned my lesson not to piss you off.” 

“Hmm, keep your promise and stay alive long enough and you’ll find out what the reward is.” 

[merbear25]

Can you do Zoro, Sanji, and Luffy x single mother S/O? Would they treat their S/O’s son/ daughter as their own?

Hey, hey! This was so heartwarming for me to think about, so thank you for sending in your request! Personally, I can’t see them being anything other than accepting towards the child. Generally speaking, they’d see them as an extension of you, so there’d be no reason for them not to care for them like their own. I hope you like what I’ve written for you 💜💜

CW: fluff, fem!reader (single mom), headcanons/scenario, written with them dating the reader and not married to her.

One of their own (Monster trio)

Zoro

Upon first meeting your child, he was unintentionally intimidating to them. Being the large scarred man that he was, it took awhile for the kid to warm up to him. With small yet thoughtful interactions, trust was built on a solid foundation. He became someone your child could turn to when they felt unsure about something, knowing that Zoro would come at the issue with a level head.

Playtime would always leave the child worn out. It’d be perfect if they were younger, so you could lay them down to sleep much more easily. Sometimes they passed out on the couch, so Zoro would be the one putting them to sleep, seeing as their dead weight would be easy for him to haul off to bed.

He’d be stern yet caring, not giving the kid room to run a muck because he’d always be respectful of the rules you’d set in place. The child learned quickly that they couldn’t try to get their own way if you told them no. “Can I have some candy?” types of questions were always followed by, “What did your mother say?”

Sanji

When you first introduced him to your child, he was very warm and open towards them. Your child took to Sanji almost instantly. With a smile that was inviting and comforting like an embrace, he easily became one of your child’s favorite people. They felt at ease around him; he was caring and gentle but wasn’t a pushover (unless your daughter gave him puppy dog eyes).

One of their favorite activities would be cooking and/or baking together. He’d adore being able to share his passion with them. They’d be put in charge of certain aspects of the meal, so that they felt like they were contributing to whatever delicious food was being prepared. When it was time to lay them down to sleep, Sanji would read them a bedtime story, wanting to show them the affection that his father never gave him.

He’d never cross the line when it came to how you ran your household, treating the boundaries you’d set in place with the utmost respect. Even if your child tried to pull on his heartstrings with an adorable look, he’d honor your rules—despite it being extremely difficult sometimes. Sanji would want to spoil them, so just be sure to keep an eye on him.

Luffy 

The first time you introduced Luffy to your child, he was warm and friendly. However, there was just something about him that made your child feel like they needed to scope him out before they could feel comfortable around him; he was, after all, a very unusual person. The more time they spent around him, the easier it got to come around. They then would ask you all the time when Luffy was coming over.

Being the imaginative man that he was, Luffy would create games seemingly out of thin air. Since he was more of the ‘do now think later’ type, your house became subjected to much of their wacky fun. With a few broken items here and there, he apologized profusely for the recklessness and promised to take their fun outside from then on.

Even though he was playful and light-hearted, he still had moments when he was serious. When you or your child needed him to be that, he’d step up and do what had to be done. With that in mind, you and your child’s bond with him would strengthen and whenever you had down time to relax and watch something, more often than not you’d fall asleep on the couch together.

[o-sachi]

Cowboy, Pirate, or Samurai? pt. 2 ₊⊹ Blue Lock Chars.

ଳ how the blue lock boys respond to, “would you rather be a cowboy, pirate, or samurai?”

ଳ characters; rin itoshi, sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, michael kaiser, alexis ness, hiyori yo, kiyora jin

ᯓ Rin Itoshi - Samurai

He'd find the question a bit stupid because is his answer not obvious? "Too noisy," he'd say about the pirate and the cowboy. Rin's more of a lone wolf—moving in silence and always planning his next move. I don't see him choosing anything else aside from the samurai. Also, I have a feeling he's not too fond of water, especially the wide and deep waters of the seas that pirates have to traverse. He looks like the type to have motion sickness, but he's too prideful to admit it.

ᯓ Sae Itoshi - Pirate

Have you seen that one official art? I mean... I think Sae has the qualities to be the leader of a ship. Our idea of that has probably been influenced by Jack Sparrow or Luffy—both having loud and vibrant personalities. But even though Sae is more of the silent and brooding type, he has the potential to be a good leader if he wanted to. Canonically, he is also a strategist which is something very useful to commandeer a ship. And as we can see in the main story, it's easy for him to get people to follow him purely through his reputation and skill.

ᯓ Shidou Ryusei - Pirate

Unlike Sae, Shidou will probably choose pirate entirely due to Jack Sparrow. He has seen the Pirates of the Caribbean once and vaguely remembers thinking, "He just like me for real," about Captain Jack Sparrow. So upon asking this question to him, the eccentric pirate was the first thing to come to mind. Oh and if he hears Sae's answer then he's just likely to copy him regardless of what he might initially thought.

ᯓ Michael Kaiser - Cowboy

Out of the three choices, cowboys seem to be the ones that are cherished by their people. They're viewed as the hard working heroes—fighting off thieves or whatnot in exchange for little to nothing at all. Kaiser probably imagines what it would be like to be needed by the people—to be loved by them. He might not be too interested in the whole saving-the-public part of being a cowboy, but he can't pass up the opportunity to be revered as the hero of the people. I love you, Kaiser :((

ᯓ Alexis Ness - Pirate

He'd grumble when asked about the question. "Why are you only giving me lame choices?" he'd retort. Obviously, he'd rather be a wizard. What's the point if you can't do the unthinkable? But he digresses. Pirates aren't magical in any sense, but they're the closest to doing the impossible. They travel far and wide over dangerous seas, collect treasures, and plunder other pirates' bounty. Plus, their bodies are built different to adapt to the tumultuous waters. When you put it like that, pirates seem to be in a different realm compared to the cowboy or the samurai. Even after that tangent, however—he'll still make it clear that he's choosing wizard.

ᯓ Hiyori Yo - Cowboy

"Cowboys have pistols, right?" Well, he's sold. It hardly matters that samurais have katanas or that pirates have literal canons—Hiyori thinks those aren't practical at all. Besides, we can't really blame him for being largely influenced by the shooting games that he plays back at home. He's quite confident that he'd win in every standoff he'd find himself in. Sure, he has never tried it in real life, but if he's hitting no-scopes in game then it should be the same thing, right?

ᯓ Kiyora Jin - Samurai

He probably doesn't really care for being a pirate or a samurai—like he doesn't see anything appealing about it. With that being said, does his replica katana collection and extensive knowledge of the Shinsengumi entice you? Well, it should. I dunno... but Kiyora seems like the guy that's super into swords for no other reason besides he thinks that they are "rad." He has definitely played sword fighting with his siblings when they were younger. He may or may not have pretended to be Okita Souji when he was a young lad.

[🐟]: Should I do the other characters?

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

o-sachi © 2024

[suedoodle]

Hi there, SueDoodle!

I apologise. This is not so much a question as just a simple comment - please ignore it if it is exhaustive/impudent of me! After viewing your work and awaiting new pieces with bated breath for a while now, I just wanted to express my enjoyment of your works (regardless of the fandom, it seems), and as I write too much to comment on a single one of your posts in the scope that they deserve, I have had to resort to pestering you directly. The attention to detail that you apply to each and every one of your sketches, no matter how simple, always has a hidden depth of intricacy that is astounding and such a pleasure to see. Little things like how your artworks are always so personal and mindful of each character's individuality. For your Trolls Band Together pictures, the detailing in Spruce's hair, for instance, when released from the towel when cleaning his facial products off baby Branch's face. How it flares and juts out in different directions as natural hair should. How you maintain his 'heartthrob/half lidded eyes'. It is not only the maintaining of character features, but also your clever and lovely adaptations. Your Bitty B, as an example, so so much more compact (specifically in the noggin department!) which just underpins the cuteness of scenes with him, and I feel it also expands the amount of activities that you are able to draw baby Branch engaging in and not have half your sketch hidden by his canonically large/trollish head.

I have always loved Mario and Luigi's designs, despite only playing ONE GAME with them (shameshame) but as I enjoyed your artwork so much, I have taken to asking my better half more about the characters and games and fanart that you have created for them so that I can understand their origins more, but also share your excellent pieces with said half as they are VERY artistically picky indeed and I was so confident in your style and ideas that I just knew they would love your work, too. I was correct. The scenes that you have made with the characters thus far are absolutely gorgeous and a real pleasure to see. Your recent roller skating coloured art, AND the subsequent 'younger Brozone sleepover' artwork was a real treat, thank you. I wonder what their bedtime situation would be when Floyd and Branch's go-to method of bathing seems to be a 10 storey waterslide? Not really something that is going to wind you down into a mood for sleep. Maybe it's a Troll thing. Thank you so much, and please continue to post your inspiring and wholesome and stellar artwork forever and ever~!

Thank you for the compliments. I try my best; studying to improve never ends ✍️

[ai-manre]

Bringing back something I wrote seven years ago back on Reddit:

Jon Snow and Baby Switcheroo

I have an appreciation for Jon's ability to manipulate and scheme. From his first scene in AGOT he showed a gift at manoeuvring a situation into his favor, but the baby switch cements this ability the best I think.

First, its important to note that Jon doesn't rush into his lie and swap out of nowhere, he lays the groundwork and plans meticulously.

“Sire, some claim that you mean to grant lands and castles to Rattleshirt and the Magnar of Thenn.”

“Who told you that?”

*The talk was all over Castle Black*. “If you must know, I had the tale from Gilly.” - Jon I ADWD

He says something of which he'd heard rumors of, but he assigns the blame to Gilly so as to alienate Stannis further from her. By doing this, he deliberately leads Stannis into the conversation where he can mention sending Gilly off without drawing any attention or reprimand from the king who practically controls Wildling lives on the Wall.

“The wet nurse,” said Lady Melisandre. “Your Grace gave her freedom of the castle.”

“Not for running tales. She’s wanted for her teats, not for her tongue. I’ll have more milk from her, and fewer messages.”

“Castle Black needs no useless mouths,” Jon agreed. “I am sending Gilly south on the next ship out of Eastwatch.”

Jon is very good at reading people, and he uses that to his advantage by associating Gilly more and more with the things he knows Stannis dislikes and he does it covertly.

The king was confused. “I thought the wet nurse was this man Craster’s daughter?”

“Wife and daughter both, Your Grace. Craster married all his daughters. Gilly’s boy was the fruit of their union.”

“Her own father got this child on her?” Stannis sounded shocked. “We are well rid of her, then. I will not suffer such abominations here. This is not King’s Landing.”

He plays on Stannis' prejudice to achieve his goal.

Finally-

Melisandre : “Gilly is giving suck to Dalla’s son as well as her own. It seems cruel of you to part our little prince from his milk brother, my lord.”

Careful now, careful. “Mother’s milk is all they share. Gilly’s son is larger and more robust. He kicks the prince and pinches him, and shoves him from the breast. Craster was his father, a cruel man and greedy, and blood tells.” - Jon I ADWD

The above is what he says but in the next chapter this is what he thinks:

Gilly’s boy was older, Dalla’s more robust, but they were close enough in age and size so that no one who did not know them well would be able to easily tell one from the other. - JON II ADWD

He will die at sea, he thought, despairing. He is too old to survive such a voyage. Gilly's little son may die as well, he's not as large and strong as Dalla's boy. Does Jon mean to kill us all? - SAM I AFFC

Jon even swaps the physiques of the babies when describing them to Stannis in order to confuse him further and eliminate a chance of them being identified correctly. He further uses that incorrect physique to push the rhetoric of Gilly's babe being an "abomination" covertly to Stannis. Jon hammers out the details of the lie meticulously, not leaving any scope for failure by being vague. He goes all the way.

I think its an aspect of Jon's character people don't notice or credit much because it isn't at the forefront the way it is for Tyrion, but he too is capable of playing the game. I don't understand when people dismiss Jon's abilities in manipulation or write him off. He's often navigated such situations masterfully and shows himself great at reading people and what moves them from the very first book.

[doctormead]

A twist on the summoning prompt

Ok, we've had many variations on Danny being summoned by cultists, villains, JLD, JL and bored kids at a slumber party, but what if DANNY tried to do a summons?

The scenario: Danny finds out that, once he hits 21 (let's say he's 16 when this little bombshell gets dropped on him), he's gonna be landed with the Kingship of the Infinite Realms. No, he can't get out of it. No, he can't abdicate to someone he thinks will do a good job. AND, if he can't hack it once he hits that age, the consequences will be...unpleasant to say the least.

Queue panicked questioning of various friendly Ancients who say they can't be his mentor for this (conflict of interest/inadequate scope for what he needs to learn/obscure excuse). Clockwork finally tells the desperate teen that, if he looks hard enough, he will find an appropriate mentor.

Well, Danny doesn't think he has time to search for such a mentor and taking out an advertisement in the IR's local newspaper equivalent may as well be painting a target on his back. But, he HAS been summoned a few times and thinks that two can play at this game.

So, with the help of Sam, Tucker and Jazz, he tries to come up with a summoning ritual for a mentor. The requirements are extensive but specific: non-hostile to Phantom (they initially thought about using "friendly to Phantom" but figured that would be too limiting given their situation), able to instruct in multiple forms of combat, able to instruct in strategy (small scale as well as large scale), able to instruct in management and politics (also on various scales) and, most importantly WILLING to be a mentor in such subjects.

The circle is cast and, when the smoke clears, a very startled Batman is standing in the center. Team Phantom didn't think they'd need to specify that the new mentor also be a ghost.

[maxwell-grant]

Since he’s probably Oswald’s closest Marvel equivalent, being a relatively-unpowered crime-boss who semi-frequently becomes Mayor… any thoughts on Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of Crime?

It's a comparison that's frequently made by Big Two fans and it's easy to see where it comes from, certainly they're the most iconic gangster/mafioso villains in their respective companies, but I don't think Kingpin is the closest Marvel has to Oswald because A: If anyone has a prior claim on Comic Book Gangster, it's definitely him, and B: They simply don't work in comparable or equivalent fashion. You can even boil down a key difference to the fact that The Penguin is inherently a small man trying to be bigger, and The Kingpin is the biggest man who ever lived. That's not a joke about their sizes, that's how they operate as characters and villains: Oswald is underestimated, ridiculed, diminished, and driven in large part because of it. He is the underdog, he slips under the radar, he slips through the cracks, he is a cockroach who lives to thumb his nose and pull the rug under the bigger bastards who think they can step on him. Wilson Fisk IS the bigger bastard who steps on people, he is the biggest bastard in the world.

He is an unsurmountable force of crime at the top of every possible advantage that a criminal can possibly weaponize, he is a titan of wealth and privilege as willing and capable of crushing your skull with his bare hands as he is of murdering your entire social circle with a phone call. He is "the ill intent", the biggest and strongest gangster of all time, and even if there are bigger and stronger bastards than him, they certainly aren't gangsters like him, they certainly aren't meeting him in his playing field of choice. There isn't really a DC equivalent to Wilson Fisk - there were certainly attempts to make Luthor and Cobblepot more like him, there's no shortage of imitators or knock-offs like Blockbuster and Tobias Whale, but the Kingpin is a league of it's own among comic book gangsters. Like Luthor and Joker and Doom, like the top dogs of the genre, he's become an Archetype in his own right.

I talked about his Spiderverse version a little while back in regards to how much I liked him in that movie and what his design represented about him, Fisk as this black hole obelisk who drains the color of every room he's in and suffocates the world visually as well as metaphorically, far from the most interesting character in the movie but one that you can pin all these other more interesting things on, and I think that's also applicable to a lot of what he does as a Spider-Man villain. Now, he's a GREAT Spider-Man villain, easily one of the best, his arcs in Ultimate Spider-Man alone should be more than enough proof of concept for that, but even if he's not necessarily the most colorful or intimate or dangerous villain to hang a Spider-Man story on, he is maybe the most villain to hang a story on - the entirety of Marvel's street level vigilantes and organized crime exists under his shadow, and you can blow up his scope to the moon and back as a way to build up all the other characters you can squeeze more dramatic stuff out of. Whether it's in TAS, where he is so undisputably atop the pecking order that everyone else is bouncing off his fixed presence, or in the Insomniac games, where he stood tall as Peter's main villain for 7 years until the game begins with his downfall as a way to kick off all the strange new threats he'll be up against, Wilson Fisk is The Crime Man to rule all Crime Men, as entrenched and emblematic and secure in his kingdom of Manhattan as Dracula is to Transylvania and Dr.Doom is to Latveria.

Unlike the vast majority of Spider-Man villains who regularly enjoy redesigns and rewrites and do-overs, official and fan-made alike, Wilson Fisk is practically the same character in every iteration, there's very little need to seriously rethink or readjust who he is and how he does things because he is perfectly simple and perfectly timeless - we have now two Ultimate Spider-Man comic runs that have brought significant overhauls and revisions and new spins to established Spider-Man characters, and in both of them, Wilson Fisk is a major character, and he is completely and utterly unchanged from how he already works in the mainline universe. Even if you don't want to use Wilson Fisk, you can't neglect Wilson Fisk, you have to show how he fits into things, you have to show what he's up to or how he allows or makes way for what's happening without him, you have to give him his cut. This imutability of his is another thing I'd say is a major difference between him and Penguin - Oswald demands change, he demands growth and adaptability, he demands different surroundings more suited to him, he wants to grow and grow and make a nest that's suitable for him, he can't fit into existing systems so he breaks them to remake them as his own. That is simply not the case with Wilson Fisk.

Unlike The Penguin, unlike some of the other great comic book supervillains, Fisk has no intention whatsoever to change anything about how the world works - as far as he's concerned, it worked just fine up until these costumed irritants arrived, and even they just became another part of his conglomerate in time. Fisk really doesn't have or need any kind of big philosophy to justify himself, rather, he takes it as fact that he's operating under the way the world works and under a merit he's achieved by being the man he is. He is content within society's morality, because he is at the top of society and therefore that morality will always bow to him. The legions of costumed enemies orbiting his life are merely dissidents going against the order of things that places him at the top, tools to be used and bugs to be squashed and little more.

And this is true even of those whose power and scope stands above his own - they are not players in his game, and if they are, they are distractions, diversions, things that he can deal with. When he loses to billionaires like the Stromms in Zdarsky's run, when he has to playy ball with bigger villains, when he is ousted in a power play, it is humiliating, and he doesn't deal well with humiliations - but he can take humiliations, he knows he can give back, he can ultimately rebuild his pride as he rebuilds his empire time and time again. Spider-Man is annoying and powerful and infantile and annoying and an enemy and really really annoying, but he is no existential threat. He is not terribly concerned about Spider-Man, which is part of what makes him such a fun Spider-Man villain, that he never sees it coming when Spidey gets serious and just brings him down (peak example of this being Back in Black), that he is this larger-than-life bully/shitty grown-up who actually can and must be defeated. And if a lot of what makes him a fun and great Spider-Man villain is contingent in the ways that he doesn't lose sleep over Spider-Man, part of what makes him a stronger Daredevil villain is the precise opposite: he desperately wishes he could be this dismissive towards Daredevil, who is for all intents and purposes weaker than Spider-Man. It's his relationship with Daredevil that brings out the best of him as a villain and the worst of him as a person alike.

Against Spider-Man, the Kingpin is a very strong enemy, the figurehead of the kind of crime that is Spidey's daily routine, a powerful and oppressive force ruling over NYC who is nevertheless a step down from the Green Goblin or Dr Octopus or the Symbiotes and all those other genetic nightmares and obsessed masterminds that plague his life. No matter how clever or vile his schemes are, Spider-Man can still beat them, and Spider-Man can ultimately always triumph over him in a fight, and Fisk can always rebuild because Fisk builds empires as easily as most people breathe, and things rarely if ever get personal between him and Peter. Against Daredevil? There IS no bigger threat than Kingpin (well, The Hand I guess, but they're boring as shit), Kingpin is the mountain that Matt always crashes against in due time, and it is always personal. The Kingpin is his biggest and strongest enemy, able to run mental laps around Matt and someone that Matt cannot in fact beat in a fight, their battles are drawn out miserable slugfests where Fisk usually thrashes him around like a ragdoll with few conclusive victories and whatever victory Matt has is hard-won and usually via cheap shot.

Matt has an infinitely harder time dealing with Fisk than Spider-Man does, which is part of why it is Kingpin's appearences in Daredevil comics that made him comic book villain royalty: Matt has no real advantage against him other than his senses. He has no intellectual advantage, no physical advantage, and he can't even claim to be more determined or driven, Fisk is fueled by an equally horrendously powerful will and protectiveness towards what belongs to him, This City. There is nobody and nothing in the world that Matt hates more than Fisk, and there is nobody and nothing in the world that Fisk hates more than Matt. They've taken turns shattering each other to the point that those slugfests are the least of each other's offenses against each other.

Even besides the sheer accumulated history they have against each other, it's in the way they unforgivably violate each other's vision of the world. If the Kingpin was the invincible man of vision who loves the city and must steer it even if smaller people disagree with him, if he was truly so secure and untouchable at the top of the world, he wouldn't be having such a colossal hard time dealing with this one guy and he wouldn't be reduced to a base animal thug every time he shows up, let alone lose and be humiliated. If Wilson Fisk was as correct as he needs to be, if the strength of his love for Vanessa/the city/what belongs to him was as powerful as he wants it to be, Daredevil would never get the upperhand on him.

And if Daredevil is a man who dedicates himself 100% all the time to protecting the city and it's people, if Daredevil commits unlawful deeds to preserve human life and fight for justice, if Daredevil struggles with the innate contradictions and hypocrisies and nature of what he is and does but can nevertheless push past them all to do the right thing for others, every second the Kingpin lives, every second Fisk lives because he lets him, chips away at the assurance that he's doing the right thing, that he isn't just wasting time. If Daredevil's vision of the city was correct, if Daredevil was right about his beliefs and worldview, there wouldn't be a Wilson Fisk out there getting away with the things he does. They hate each other for that same fundamental reason: If the world was ruled by the principles I need it to be, in order for me to be who I am and do what I do, you wouldn't exist, and you wouldn't be in my way again and again.

As a Spider-Man villain, he is one of the greats, a core component of his world, a highly versatile and even necessary figure to have and an excellent villain to dictate proceedings. As a Marvel Universe villain, he is an indispensable facet of any criminal element, the Mt.Fuji that the streets of Marvel rest upon, someone who can be added to any storyline and be grafted into many characters to oppose or assist them, or even create and kill them. As a Daredevil villain, he is undeniable as one of the top supervillains, bordering on main character a lot of the time. An implacable unstoppable force of nature as well as a villain of history and brutality and drama and a character who brings intrigue and tragedy and even complexity, even as it all ultimately comes down to that raw hatred between them, the splinter in each other's eye, an infection in their world that just keeps taking and taking and taking without stopping.

It is an unforgivable offense to Wilson Fisk that there is a man out there so beneath him that he cannot break, cannot bend, cannot stop, and who makes such a mockery of everything he's built himself to be by existing, just as it is unforgivably offensive to Matt Murdock that there is a man out there named Wilson Fisk who thinks he has the right to be who he is, and do what he does. To be a man who not only cannot care about human life in any capacity other than what he thinks belongs to him, but whose continued existence attests to a world that validates him, that doesn't care about those lives either, where there is no accountability and no justice and no salvation that cannot be bought and sold. Fisk isn't just an embodiment of cruel, bottomless indifference, he stands for a world that agrees with him.

It would take too much work to defeat him, he just walks unscathed if you do, and even if you defeat him there will just be someone else to step in temporarily. And so it is with a heavy heart that the people of New York accept that the blood of countless runs through the streets, so long as the big man gets to give them their cookie at the end of the day for their hard work and agreeability. He is too big, too clever, too strong, and too invincible - and that's why Peter needs to stop him, that'd why Matt can never stop trying, that's why they can never let him be, otherwise Marvel New York would just be regular New York.

They'd have to accept a world where Wilson Fisk gets away with everything, and who could live with that?

[serpentface]

The wassibi, threatening you with a very bad time.

Wassibi are mid-sized (11-16 lb) solitary mustelids. This species is native throughout the lands south of the Viper seaway, thriving as generalists in a great diversity of habitats (though rarely occur in very arid environments or at high elevations). They are omnivores, using their broad noses and strong claws to dig out earthworms, beetle larvae, roots and tubers, foraging along the ground for insects, scorpions, bird eggs, fallen fruit, and small lizards and snakes, and occasionally scavenging carcasses and trash. They are particularly noted for their ability to find honey- splitting open bees nests with their claws and leisurely consuming larvae and honeycomb, seemingly untroubled by bee stings.

Wassibi are known above all else for their devastatingly noxious defensive anal gland spray. When threatened, they hiss, arch their backs and tails, raise their fur, and point their anus menacingly in the direction of danger. Should posturing fail, they will unleash their spray at the threat's face. Their anal glands have powerful muscular control and the attack is devastatingly accurate at up to 10 ft. In addition to having an atrocious stench, the liquid is mildly irritating to the skin, painful and temporarily blinding to the eyes, and can induce intense nausea and vomiting. The smell is resistant to washing, and can take weeks to fade. Most predators who experience a hit will learn to recognize the wassibi's stark aposematic coloring and avoid anything resembling it.

In addition to this potent defensive weaponry, they have dense fur and thick, loose skin, which renders them difficult for most predators to effectively grasp or pierce without risk of being bitten themselves. As such, wassibi have few consistent natural predators and are given a wide birth by most other animals. Their tendency to walk boldly in the open and sometimes even scavenge at carcasses alongside much larger predators commonly lends them cultural reputations of fearlessness. Wassibi are known for attacking large venomous snakes that potentially threaten their young, which (along with their frequent consumption of scorpions and bees) leads to common misconceptions that they are entirely immune to venom. They have no such resistance, rather their thick fur and loose skin cause bites and stings to land less effectively- most stings fail to penetrate their fur altogether, and bites often deal glancing blows that inject little to no venom.

Their biggest predatory threats come from humans. Wassibi meat is fairly rich and not unappealing to most palates used to wild game, but they are rarely considered worth the effort and risk of killing for consumption alone. They are more commonly hunted for their pelts (worn commonly by Wogan and North Wardi herders in hopes of deterring attacks from predators), bones, claws, and fat (used in traditional medicine for their purported antivenom properties). This hunting is fairly limited in scope overall, and most Wassibi populations remain stable.

[cowboydisaster]

Your Protector

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: Arthur comes to your rescue while you're being harassed.

a/n: This is technically a reupload from back in November but I added a lot more detail and its now about 1k longer so-- Also this fic was originally a request: "reader getting hit on in a shady alley and Arthur rescuing her"

warnings: gore, blood, violence (not more than game), harassment, basically a gross, greedy man who gets a bit handsy

It’s been ten minutes since Arthur left you in the alley. Nervously, you run your sweaty palms down your jeans and slow your breaths. You couldn’t deny Arthur when he had asked you to scope out this job with him. He made all the plans, crafted a safe and efficient way to get the money with no one getting hurt. And although you trust him, your nerves are still on edge. The other outlaw had caught first wind of this score when helping a passerby on the road in Bayou Nwa. Arthur helped a man with a nasty snake bite, and was gifted a token of information as a payment. Apparently, the Saint Denis gunsmith is running a little underground gambling. Big poker games, with top players, betting more money just on one game than you’ve ever laid eyes on in your life. That tip came about a few weeks ago, and after some sniffing around, Arthur found the information to be true. Tonight, at 8pm, the cards were dealt for the tournament game. The big one. 

You pace, nervously glancing down at your silver pocket watch. The time reads just after midnight. These games take hours, if not days, but by now most of the money should be out, and the players should all be here with their riches. Before jogging up the metal staircase and sneaking through a cracked window, Arthur had planted you as a lookout in the alley adjoining the gunsmith. His plan is: sneak in, play the part, and rob the bastards blind. They’ll probably be too wasted on hooch to even notice him slipping away with their life savings. Your job is strictly to keep watch, which Arthur reassured you is a very important job, despite your reservations. You glance at your pocket watch again, seeing that Arthur has now been in there for thirteen minutes. Shoving the watch into your pocket to get rid of the distraction, you glance around the alley. It's dark, and eerie. The pass way is long and narrow, with rotting wooden crates lining the walls and rats that run and squeak, causing you to jump every now and again. Water drips down from the metal overhangs, driving you mad with their constant noise. 

Anxiety pools in your gut as the shadows made by the rats and the crates shift, and the walls seem to move in on you. It’s all an illusion of course, but your heart rate picks up as the shadows shift and taunt you. A few times you scare yourself, looking at the shadows for too long until they begin to morph. So, to preserve your sanity, you distract yourself, pulling your cattleman from its holster. You grab a bottle of gun oil and a little rag from your satchel, humming to yourself as you wipe down the barrel of the gun, making sure to get in between the little grooves. Arthur had bought you this gun, and had it engraved with ornate flowers. It’s one of your most dear possessions. You still feel incredibly uneasy, like you’re being watched, followed. But you tell yourself that your mind is just playing tricks on you. You focus on the gun, keeping enough awareness of your surroundings to know if the law is coming. With a satisfied smirk, you hold your gun under the flickering street light, admiring its clean, shiny state. Suddenly the gun is knocked away from your hand, and you gasp, having only a moment to watch it fall onto the cobblestone before whipping around in shock.

A beast of a man, easily over six feet tall with broad shoulders, towers over you, sneering down at you with yellow teeth and breath that reeks of liquor. He scares the hell out of you, and you back away quickly. In one large step backwards, with a loud gasp, your back hits the alley’s brick wall. The man steps forward, sandwiching you between himself and the wall. You feel so sick, so naive right now. When you had agreed to do this job, you’d expected to run into some nasty street kids and oversized rats at the worst, but oh were you wrong. Somehow the other type of vermin roaming Saint Denis had slipped your mind: the men like this one. The men who drink their fill and search the streets for a cheap woman to spend the night with, or any woman to spend the night with. He is the exact type of man you would expect to be at an illegal poker game, with greasy hair, beady eyes, and sharp features that remind you of a predator.  Your back is still pressed against the wall, and the man in front of you corners you by bringing a hand to either side of your head on the wall. You’re trapped. You glance down to your cattleman on the street, and damningly realize you can’t reach it. When the man opens his mouth to speak, the acrid, alcoholic smell of his breath makes you gag. 

“Say, what’s a pretty lil’ thing like you doin’ in these nasty parts of town all by yourself?” His breath is hot on your face, and the smell of his sweat chokes you. You think about screaming for help, but all that would do is tie a noose around Arthur’s neck. Yelling isn’t an option. One of his large hands comes up to your face and he gently caresses your cheek with the back of his index finger. You tear your face away from his touch, fuming. You look angry and tough, but under it all you’re terrified. 

“I'm not alone, got a friend in the gunsmith, he should be back any second.” you growl, staring the man right in his colorless eyes. Slowly, he turns his head in both directions, scanning the gunsmith doors and the stairwell that leads to the attic. When he turns his head back to you, there is a sickening grin on it. 

“Well, sweet thing, I don’t see anyone… do you?” The man chuckles deeply, threateningly, “It can be real dangerous around here if you ain’t got someone to keep an eye on you…” He snarls, a mock smile on his lips that causes your stomach to flip with disgust. The man leans down, only inches away from your face as you shove your body back against the brick wall, wishing it would swallow you whole. 

“The names’ Levi… care to tell me yours, pretty girl?” Levi sneers, eyeing your scowl.

Your eyes are glued to the gunsmith’s side door, silently begging Arthur to return. You know that you can’t fight this man off. He’s much bigger than you, and even in his drunken state, he’s stronger than you are. His hands grip your forearms, pushing you back against the brick wall and you yelp. 

“I don’t need you protectin’ me, now let me go!” You yell into his face, shoving against the brute as hard as you can. Levi only laughs, pushing closer to you. His weight, sandwiching you against the wall, knocks the air out of your lungs as you attempt to push him away. He only laughs, and the smell of his alcohol ridden breath once again makes you gag.

“Why don’t you come wit’ me? I’ll show ya a real good time. Do you think a lil’ thing like you can handle me, precious?”

Eyes squinted shut, you silently beg Arthur or anyone to help you. 

— — — —

Arthur scans the room once more before swiping the cash off of the table and sliding it into his leather saddle bag. Most of the gamblers have passed out, but the ones who are still conscious are far too drunk to notice Arthur slipping by, knocking out a couple of guards and stealing their wealth. It's dark in the room, most of the candles have burned out already, and Arthur isn’t seen as he crouches, expert fingers grappling and pickpocketing as he goes. There is a little makeshift bar towards the window he had crawled in through, and on top of it rests a thick clip of money. Arthur eyes it, stepping towards the window to snatch the clip. Just as he passes the window, a breeze rolls in, and carried on it is your voice. 

“Let me go!” You growl, and Arthur peeks out the window, face pale as his heart drops. He sees a big bastard, towering over you and holding you against the wall, yelling in your face. For a second Arthur sees nothing but red.

Arthur panics, filled with both rage and fear. The cash clips that he has not yet collected are discarded on the counter as Arthur runs down the interior staircase. It's quicker than crawling through the window and dealing with the ladders. Arthur’s mind is clouded with a primal instinct to protect you as he bolts down the steps, skipping multiple as he goes.

“Shit, shit- Shit!” Arthur growls, pushing up against the main door to the gunsmith. It doesn't budge, presumably locked for the night. And although Arthur would only have to reach down and unlock the fine wooden door, he wastes no time, kicking the wood with such force that it swings open, nearly knocked off the goddamn hinges. Arthur fumes, stepping through the broken door, and dropping the saddle bag onto the ground. You’re only right across the alley now.

His eyes meet yours, and you look so small compared to the bastard who is bothering you. Arthur doesn’t hesitate for a second, coming up behind Levi in a few long strides and grabbing him by the back of his collar. Even though Levi is large in comparison to you, he is not nearly as big as Arthur. 

Arthur drags Levi back by his collar with an indescribable rage, and slams him into the brick wall, opposite of you. A sound erupts from Arthur, that could only be compared to a growl as he wraps his hand around Levi’s throat. His other fist is raised and ready to beat the life out of the bastard. You breathe deeply, sinking against the floor to catch your breath and reel over what’s playing out before you., relief washing over you because Arthur’s here.

“What in the hell were you just sayin’ to her?!” Arthur’s voice is deep, filled to the core with rage, the kind that can’t be stopped or repressed. His eyes are dark, and despite the love and the comfort that they have provided you with, Arthur looks terrifying now. 

You can do nothing but catch your breath and watch the scene play out. You’re still in shock, mindlessly rubbing your hand over the spot on your arm that your perpetrator was gripping onto so tightly. You wince, realizing that there will definitely be bruises there later.

Levi cracks a sickening smile before responding to Arthur, 

“Ah, so you’re the one this whore is fuc-” Levi’s words are cut short as Arthur’s fist meets his face. There is so much force and anger behind the punch that you are surprised Levi is still conscious. A loud crack snaps through the air- you realize that it is Levi’s nose shattering as he screams out in pain. Arthur is fuming, his shoulders rising up and down quickly as he attempts to stop himself from killing this piece of shit. He puts his fist down, but keeps his hand on Levi’s throat. A bruise in the shape of Arthur’s knuckles is already starting to form on Levi’s face. His greasy hair is now falling down in front of his eyes as he spits blood onto the ground. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s drunk, stupid or both, but he attempts to get under Arthur’s skin one last time. 

“You don’t feel like sharin, do you mister?” Levi pauses, spitting some more blood to the ground and eyeing you up and down before continuing, “Can’t say I blame you partner… If I had a woman wit a body like that I’d never-” 

Once again Levi is shut up by Arthur’s fists. Except for this time Arthur doesn’t stop. Something snaps inside the outlaw, like he’s gone completely feral. Arthur shoves Levi to the ground, straddling him while landing punch after punch to his face. You sit against the wall in shock, wincing at the wet crunch and snap of bones breaking. Arthur’s chest is heaving as he beats Levi senselessly. You’re not sure how long it goes on, but it feels like forever. 

Eventually, Levi stops resisting the blows, and Arthur gets off the half dead man, still enraged. He stands, fuming. 

“You piece of shit, don’t you ever put your goddamn hands on her again- and if you ever talk to her, or any woman, like that again, I'll do alot worse than this, you hear?!” Arthur all but snarls. 

Levi doesn’t respond, and Arthur kicks him in the ribs for it.

“Do. You. Hear?” Arthur growls, low and deep. 

You’re honestly not sure if Levi is even alive, or capable of responding. His face is beaten in, red and smashed, he's not even recognizable. You breathe a little easier when you see the beaten man nod his head up and down. He’s an awful bastard, but you’re relieved that Arthur didn’t kill him.

“Good.” Arthur hisses with an icy tone that you’ve never heard before. 

Stepping over Levi, Arthur leans down into a crouch in front of you and his features soften. He gently pulls the hair away from your ears, checking your face before running his green eyes over your body, checking that you’re not hurt. His face is pinched up in concern, and the hands that check over you are bruised and stained with the blood of your perpetrator. After doing a quick check over, Arthur grabs your gun. His gentle hands meet your waist before he helps you to stand up. As soon as you’re on your feet, without another word, he grips your hand, picks up the money bag and pulls you deeper into the alley. After some turns and bends, Arthur stops in a secluded spot. 

Arthur deems you both far enough away to be involved with any trouble from the law, and he turns to face you. His hands come up to your cheeks, and with care he gently turns your face to both sides, checking you over more thoroughly. 

“How badly do you hurt?” Arthur asks, rolling up your sleeves to assess the forming purple splotches along your arm. 

When he sees them, his jaw sets into a hard, cold state as he breathes deeply to control his rage. Your eyes flutter up to his own, and you tread on thin ice, not wanting him to go back and kill the man. 

“Im okay Arthur, really, I-” You start, tears pooling in your eyes. Arthur watches them form and then wipes them away with his thumb. 

“Now don’t lie for my sake, he hurt you? More than this?” Arthur’s hand is gently holding your bruised arm, and the other cups your cheek. His eyes speak of an ache, of regret, you know he blames himself for leaving you in the alley, and you rush to reassure him.

“No, no he didn't hurt me, shook me up a little, but nothing bad.” You whisper, catching those soft green eyes again. Arthur looks down, and his body tightens as he avoids your eyes, terrified to ask the next question.

“Did he- did he do anythin..?” Arthur looks up, eyes locked on to yours to assess your answer, and you flinch, realizing what he’s asking. God, it could have been so much worse. 

“Arthur, no, I promise, I’m okay. Really.” 

He nods, seemingly accepting your truth with a breath of relief as his tongue darts out over his lips.

“Fuckin’ bastard, I should’ve done a lot worse to him.” Arthur curses, stepping away to pace lightly.

You step forward and put a hand on his warm chest to quell his rage. 

“No, no you shouldn’t have. He got the message Arthur.”

Arthur glances up at you for a few moments, his hands resting on his belt before he steps forward, and pulls you toward him by your shoulder.

“Just… C’mere sweetheart.” He whispers.

You step towards him, grateful for the way he envelopes you into his arms. He’s so big, so warm.  It’s a comfort that you didn’t realize you needed in the moment as Arthur kisses the top of your head. Everything is perfect, just in the moments that he holds you like this.

“Y’know, I worry about you sweetheart. Don’t want you gettin’ hurt or bein’ made uncomfortable by bastards like him.” Arthur mutters into your hair, still hugging you tightly.

You wrap your arms tighter around his torso, nuzzling into his chest. 

“Well that’s why I have you.” You counter, smiling into Arthur’s warmth. He chuckles, and you’re glad to hear it. 

“I'll always be your protector, darlin.” Arthur says before pressing a slow kiss to your temple.

[devsgames]

On Scoping And Idea Management for Games

I started my teaching gig (which is incredibly chaotic but I'm very much enjoying it despite that) and I noticed a really consistent theme with some student project pitches around the idea of planning and scoping projects. Some advice that I gave them that I think is worth repeating and reinforcing here:

You are not a AAA studio. Do not plan to make games like a AAA studio.

If your concept, premise, pitch or idea of a game that you actually want to finish contains elements, mechanics or concepts that is predominantly executed by AAA studios, please for the love of god don't expect to be able to execute them without brutally interrogating them first.

Things like: Soulslike game balance, 'open world', heavily systemic design, online multiplayer, complex mechanics, etc. You know, things you largely only see AAA studios (or very experienced dev teams) complete with any semblance of success. There's a reason many of these are only executed by large teams.

This isn't to say it's impossible to execute on these ideas or that it's not worthwhile experimenting with it a little, but if you're going into it with little previous development experience and expect to come out the other end with a 'finished' thing, you're overscoping and setting yourself up for failure.

Ever notice how AAA studios even struggle to execute complex concepts like that? It's not (always) because of mismanagement, but also because it's often overscoped for them too and they are incredibly hard to execute. AAA studios often work on concepts and premises which require a lot of resources to do so effectively. Indie studios don't often make these kinds of games for the same reasons, because conceptually it will easily explode your scope out of the water. Some try, and you can often feel how stretched thin they were.

The point is, you (assuming as a reader that you're an individual with no 'fully' shipped titles) are equivalent to...basically 1/2 a person at an average indie startup. If you have a team, then you're basically the size and scale of a small indie team. Realistically, in all likelihood, you do not have the knowledge, experience or time to do it anywhere nearly as well as a full-time studio production.

And I get why people fall into this trap!

We draw inspiration from what we see most and what we like, and don't often challenge our assumptions about them - it's why we see something like a Batman Arkham Asylum combat system or Photorealistic graphics and say "yeah I could do that easy" without realizing it's actually really really hard to do in the first place, let alone really get right. Studios are notoriously secretive about process, and the reality is there's months and months of unseen work behind pretty much everything.

We also tend to use blanket terms we're familiar with to define our works, as opposed to more fitting terms. For example, some people might call something like Journey an "open world" game, despite the fact it's not strictly an "open world" but rather a linear one with a non-linear presentation.

As a solo developer I too constantly make this mistake of over-scoping or underestimating just how hard it can be to execute on certain concepts or ideas.

Avoiding It

So how do you get around accidentally writing cheques only well-equipped studios can cash? You need to interrogate your ideas a lot more.

Okay, now ask yourself: Is it mostly a premise that is done by people operating at around your level of resources, or by dedicated groups with tons and tons of employees? Has anyone done your mechanic at a small, simple scale? How many studios have done it? What size were they? How many resources do they have? If anyone has executed a similar idea, how many resources did they seem to have to do it? What corners did it seem like they need to cut to get there? Ask yourself how often you see concepts like yours, executed at scale like yours. Ask yourself why that might be.

A generic example to run with: "I am going to make an open world exploration game where you can climb anywhere, with tons of content and things to do".

Ask yourself some of the above questions, and also interrogate all your definitions. What do you define as "open world"? "exploration"? "tons"? "anywhere"? "Climb"? What do these words, specifically, mean to you? Are these reasonable and realistic expectation for the amount of time you have for this project? Have you already executed on any of these before, and how many are unknown to you?

"But Devon, my idea is unique and no one has done it before! I have nothing I can compare it to!"

Nope. Sorry, just no - you're wrong. Maybe they've not done it exactly like you envision it, but I promise you that at this point in time someone has done virtually everything in games before, you've just not heard of it yet. I have yet to hear someone describe a game that didn't do anything I hadn't heard of before to some degree or another. Ask some friends for references and take more time to do research - you'll find parallels if you dig enough.

Execution

If by now you've realized you might be in over your head, you might still be able to do it if you plan very smartly around it and accept scoping down.

I could talk forever about how to break down your scope into something that is more manageable (and probably will in the future), but I'll keep it focused on this idea of interrogating definitions for now.

Running with the "open world exploration game where you can climb anywhere, with tons of content and things to do" example.

Plan to do only one of the verbs in your game really well.

"Climbing" - you could spend forever building a game just around that verb, and people have! Getting Over It With Bennet Foddy. Doodle Jump. Grow Home. People have done this, and even those games tow the line of being complex to make.

"Open world" - this one is very heavy, but make it just about walking around. Challenge the assumption that an open world isn't enough and that it needs 'content' - just make walking around the world really fun. Dear Esther, Proteus, Passage, Beginner's Guide.

"Exploration" - this verb is vague and takes many forms, and while it can easily be dangerous if it gets too big, it can still be small and engaging. A Short Hike, Umurangi Generation, Hidden Folks. You don't need mechanical complexity or depth to make something fun.

Start from that and then expand. Maybe you get to a point where your climbing is really fun and good and you don't even need to add tons of things to do, or open-world mechanics. Maybe your open world is so easy to do that climbing becomes the thing you spend your time on.

---

Essentially the point here is to not assume that because you've seen something done before it's easy to execute on, nor that you should simply run with concepts without fully understanding what you mean when you come up with them first. It's going to not only save you a lot of time and stress, but also more likely to put you in a position where you'll be able to actually finish what you started.

This is also only the tiniest portion of my thoughts on scoping here, so I'm sure I'll add more to this down the road. :)

[mythaura-blog]

Development Update - December 2023

Hi folks, a very Happy New Year to you!

In the spirit of new beginnings, Mythaura has entered a new chapter in its development, which we detail in our December development update. We also take time to review what was accomplished in 2023 (our first full calendar year with Mythaura!).

We've also got our color contest winners, the winning Fighter companion, and much, much more. And of course: our demo is now live! We're so excited for you to traverse the Wild Area, a procedurally generated map with monsters for your team of three Beasts to defeat.

Demo Trailer

Message From The Developers

We're thrilled to share this pivotal update about Mythaura’s development journey, which showcases many of the core features we have planned for this game. Today marks a significant transition: we're shifting from the intricate and challenging phase of game engine development to the exciting realm of feature development.

Since beginning this project, our focus has been on scoping and then crafting robust and core components. Features such as wild areas, battle, and multiplayer systems, not to mention the complex breeding system, passive effect management, player inventory system, and the beast image engine. We've also been diligently integrating these elements with complex user interfaces and ensuring they will work on most devices (an ever ongoing battle). It's been a journey of overcoming unknowns and technical challenges, and we're proud of what we've achieved.

Now, we're entering a new chapter. Our attention turns to fleshing out the game's features, with a special focus on developing an immersive questing and dialogue system, towns & shops, skill trees & progression, and tools for content development among other needed feature development. The hardest challenges have by and large been solved at this stage and our focus can now be how to best deliver an amazing gaming experience by bringing them together. This shift doesn't mean the work is done—far from it. But it's a major milestone that brings us closer to realizing our vision for the game.

We want to express our heartfelt gratitude for your unwavering support and enthusiasm, and look forward to a jam packed 2024.

Year In Review

This year has been marked by numerous milestones. Below is a recap of our key accomplishments, excluding the latest updates which have been a major focus of our efforts for the past several months.

1. Introduction of 'Supers': Enhanced breeding complexity by introducing 'Supers' as a new mechanic, making well-structured breeding projects more valuable. We started with the debut of our first Super: Tegu.

2. Special Additions: Welcomed the special Panda to our list of Specials.

3. Expressions for Beasts: Implemented expressions for beasts, a significant and ongoing undertaking that gives life to your beasts as they interact with NPCs.

4. Elements System: Introduced the Elements system, assigning each beast a pair of inherent elements. An element page was added that delves into the lore of each element.

5. Beast Sizes: Standardized beast sizes, assigning each beast a unique size within its species' range.

6. Beast Classes: Initial build of beast classes, providing each beast with a class-based playstyle and initial items.

7: Radiant Companions: Unveiled Radiant companions, rare alternate colorations for companions that are bound to be highly sought-after.

8: Deep Dive into Seasons: Explored the planned feature 'Seasons', designed to reward ongoing gameplay.

9: The Weekend Traveler: Designed the Kobold NPC known as the Weekend Traveler, who deals in ultra-rare goods, along with the Kobold non-player species.

10. New Colors on the Wheel: Established a sustainable method to introduce new colors to our color palette, allowing us to add 16 new colors this year (including the 3 contest winners).

11. Ephemeral Inks: Introduced Ephemeral Inks, a way to alter the colors of a beast.

12. Color Wheel Page: Created a dedicated page listing colors and corresponding inks.

13. PvP Battle Demo: Rolled out a demo showcasing our multiplayer technology in PvP battles.

14. Mutations Feature: Added Mutations as a rare breeding-only feature, beginning with our first Mutation: Piebald.

15. Items By You: Crafted 11 sponsored companions (excluding recolors), 5 sponsored apparel pieces, and 2 sponsored items.

16. New Game Engine: Designed a render pipeline that can create the 2.5D effects used in Wild Areas during exploration. Including, but not limited to, dynamic shadows, volumetric fog, real-time lighting, collision detection, special & particle effects, and gravity simulation, all accelerated by your GPU.

17. Granular Settings: Created a UI to manage game settings, graphics settings, audio settings, etc as well as added gamepad support with keybind remapping to Wild Areas.

18. Procedural Map Generation: Developed technology to procedurally generate bespoke Wild Areas.

19. Ongoing Production: Work on ongoing behind-the-scenes features such as worldbuilding, map design, systems design, and the exploration features we showcased on this update!

UI Update

You may notice the UI has received an update. This redesign focuses on being accessible for players using controllers, which is something we are working towards supporting on all screens and not just the Wild Area demo. The about page has also been updated. All the links to informational pages you would have found in the left-side menu of the previous design can be found on the about page with the exception of the /species page, whose contents has been moved to the about page.

We have also added an install button to the homepage that will display for users who have browsers which support Progressive Web Apps. This will add Mythaura to your taskbar/home screen for easy full-screen access.

Mobile and tablet users may enable gyroscope to interact with the parallax graphics if they would like.

Feature Spotlight: Wild Area

Wild Areas are a key pillar of Mythaura’s gameplay, and will be where you can expect to spend a lot of your time.

At A Glance

Procedurally Generated Levels

Traverse through uniquely generated levels with your trio of beasts. Control your adventure with WASD for movement and Space for jumps and shift for sprint. This can be remapped in the settings.

Each Wild Area boasts a series of floors. Your goal? Reach the top (or bottom)!

Your Safe Havens: Checkpoint Floors

Leave the Wild Area without any penalties

Choose to start from any previously reached checkpoint.

Encounter formidable bosses or minibosses at many of these checkpoints.

Prepare for the Journey: The Adventure Bag

Your Adventure Bag is your lifeline. Pack it with essential items for survival and success.

Provision Wisely: Stock up and get ready to face the unknown.

Limited inventory space for both what you bring with you and what you find along the way.

Keep Your Energy Up

Your team's energy is key. Keep it replenished with food from your Adventure Bag or found on your journey.

Running out of energy or facing defeat? You’ll black out, dropping your Adventure Bag's contents. But don't worry, you can retrieve them by returning to your last stand.

Encounter the Unexpected

From unlocking treasure chests with lockpicks to aiding NPCs, each exploration offers unique surprises.

Day and Night Dynamics: Encounter different enemies and events. A full day/night cycle completes every 12 real hours.

Wild Areas have natural water bodies, perfect for a fishing escapade.

Escalating Challenges

Increase difficulty with each New Game+ cycle and encounter new enemies and challenging secret bosses.

Multiplayer Co-Op

Up to 3 players can group up to take on a Wild Area together.

Take on enemies as a group with co-op battles.

See your friends jump and move in realtime, split up to make the most of your exploration while keeping tabs on your team-mates through the text chat and the minimap.

Fledgeling’s Forest Demo

The demo features a single floor of the Fledgeling's Forest Wild Area, with unlimited energy.

Day/Night Slider: Experience any time of day at your convenience. (Note: Creatures that spawn remain the same in the demo)

Currently Disabled: Fishing, lockpicking, loot & foraging, multiplayer, and other events are not available in this demo.

NG+ Cycle Update

In last month's update we revealed our plans for Mythaura's New Game+ system. Originally, our plan allowed players from NG+2 and beyond to create any Tier 1-Tier 3 Beast.

We have since changed it so that at the beginning of a player's NG+2 cycle they may make a Tier 1-Tier 3 Beast with up to three Specials, but NG+3 and beyond will not feature any custom Beast creation. The player will instead have access to a pool of NG+3-exclusive items that they will receive items from.

Thank you to our Discord members for all their input, it provided us with a much better direction to move forward with!

Winter Quarter (2024) Concepts

It’s the first day of Winter Quarter 2024, which means we’ve got new Quarterly Rewards for Sponsors to vote on on our Ko-fi page!

Which concepts would you like to see made into official site items? Sponsors of Bronze level or higher have a vote in deciding. Please check out the Companion post and the Glamour post on Ko-fi to cast your vote for the winning concepts!

Votes must be posted by January 29, 2024 at 11:59pm PDT in order to be considered.

All Fall 2023 Rewards are now listed in our Ko-fi Shop for individual purchase for all Sponsor levels at $5 USD flat rate per unit. As a reminder, please remember that no more than 3 units of any given item can be purchased. If you purchase more than 3 units of any given item, your entire purchase will be refunded and you will need to place your order again, this time with no more than 3 units of any given item.

Fall 2023 Glamour: Ghastly Grin

Fall 2023 Companion: Saddleback Rattlecat

Fall 2023 Solid Gold Glamour: Ryu

Custom Color Contest Winners

Last month we revealed the names of the winning colors of our first ever Custom Color Contest--now they've made their official debut in the Beast Creator!

Congratulations again to:

Xander's "Moonstone"

Rhahatl's "Wintergrass"

Andydrarch's "Trench"

We were so impressed by all the amazing entries you all submitted. We'll definitely be running more contests like this in the future, so please stay tuned for them in future updates. Thank you all for participating!

Fighter Class Companion Winner

The brutish Domestic Wolverine will be the starting Companion for the Fighter Class! These brave and hardy creatures are perfectly suited to aiding new Fighters. Next month, we will vote on the next class companion: Rogue.

Meet the Team

We've gotten to learn so much about our supporters over the past year and a half, we thought it was time to share a little bit about ourselves as well! On our About page you can find short bios on each of the devs, including their favorite Mythaura species, color from our color wheel, and other fun and (very miscellaneous) facts.

Safari & iOS Problems

At this time, iOS devices like iPad and iPhone are only partially supported. These are the issues that the dev team is aware of and actively working on:

On iOs, Safari forces a refresh if the memory usage spikes, forcing you back to the demo start page. This happens at different times on different devices dependent on its RAM usage.

Sometimes when starting a battle, battlers start shifted down, then snap to the correct position after interacting with a button.

The zoom in on a beast image is pixelated (Safari bug: https://bugs.webkit.org/show_bug.cgi?id=27684).

On Mac Safari, battle animations showing with a black background. iOS is fine. Solution is to disable battle animations in the settings.

You will need to be running at least iOS 15 and Safari version 15 or greater in order to use Mythaura.

Mythaura v0.25.1

Improvements to AI Behavior: Improved target selection and behavior profiles for AI enemies.

Class Infrastructure Addition: Added new class infrastructure.

Stat Effects from Classes: Implemented functionality where classes affect stats.

Glamour CMS Process and Fixes: Updated and fixed issues related to the glamour content management system process.

Ability Usage Tracking: Implemented increments in the 'ability times used' counter, enhancing tracking of abilities' usage.

Policy Code Refactor: Conducted a significant refactor of policy-related code, improving efficiency and maintainability.

Item Actions Refactoring and Rename Feature: Refactored item actions and added a new feature to rename items, allowing users to name their companions.

Book Item Type Addition: Introduced a new item type - books, adding to the game's content.

Encounter and Description Fixes: Fixed issues with encounter metadata and corrected miss descriptions.

Shadow Maps Generation: Added tools that allow the system to generate shadow assets.

PHP 8.3 Compatibility Updates: Made updates to ensure compatibility with PHP 8.3.

Queue Configuration and Fixes: Improved the configuration of job queues and fixed related issues.

Fixes and Updates for Battler State: Addressed issues in practical testing and refined the battler state management.

Refactor of Current Effects: Refactored how current effects are stored and managed. Moved current effects to state and resolved turn resolution issues.

Map Generation and Space Management: Improved the map generator to add empty spaces when out of view.

Behavior Selection and Shadow Rendering Fixes: Fixed issues with behavior selection and shadow rendering in battle states.

Party Leader Management Updates: Implemented changes for setting new party leaders upon defeat.

Stat Resolution Enhancements: Updated the resolution of stats, improving the mechanics of stat calculations.

PvP and Demo Battle Fixes: Made fixes specifically for arena PvP and demo battles.

State Management and Pruning: Improved state management, including pruning data when no longer needed by the system.

Species Data Addition: Added species data to the about page.

Rest & Defend Action Health Gain: Resting no longer increases health but does recover more stamina. Defending no longer recovers stamina.

Remade Companion Page: Used the new scene component to improve usability and performance of companion page.

Adjusted Radiant Overlay: This fixes an issue Firefox users had with viewing radiant companions.

Updated Tooltips: Tooltips have been replaced with a more modern library.

Gyroscope Support: The game can use a devices gyroscope to move parallax scenes around.

Websocket Connection Updates: Ensures websockets get cleanly disconnected at the end of every battle.

Improved Hitboxes and Rendering: Objects no longer appear to "float" regardless of their size and their hitboxes have been refined.

Added Global Sound - App can now maintain music across different pages and the settings control master, sound effects, and music seperately.

Enhanced Settings - Greatly improved the number of modular settings a user can use in both graphics and gamepad.

Wild Area Game Pad Support - Wild areas now support game pag usage. Full game pad support is in progress.

Virtual Joystick - Touch screen devices can control movement with a virtual joystick.

General Cleanups and Tweaks: Conducted cleanups and minor tweaks across various parts of the system.

Thank You!

Our first full calendar year with Mythaura has been one primarily focused on foundation-building. We're so excited to use these systems that we have built to create the content that players will engage with as they travel throughout Mythaura. Again, a heartfelt thanks to those who have supported us through all of this--we really couldn't have done it without you. We hope to deliver an experience that you'll want to revisit again and again.

As always: we'll see you around the Discord!

[extremely-nervess]

can we get lore on alecto?

Haha >_< okay First thing is, since Fae and Alecto are from a Lancer game they exist in that setting. In that setting 'AIs' are commonly referred to as non-human persons (NHP) and they're not really AI, but actually extra/multidimensional beings that operate on a higher order of existence to normal people. Special processing units called Caskets are used to restrict these entities and force them into a more human, and useful shape. They are sort of digital beings by nature of the caskets being largely digital. It's not uncommon for Lancers (elite pilots) to acquire a combat NHP for their machine - many of the corporate licences provide access to a clone of a stable/standardised class of NHP along with their mechs.

NHPs can, if the casket is damaged or in other extreme situations enter cascade - a state of escaping the control of the casket and returning to their powerful, very alien, and typically beyond the scope of mortal comprehension true selves. Alecto is a Fury class NHP, a fork of Harrison Armoury’s Lucifer class developed to pilot an experimental autonomous mech: The Dirae Smart Weapon System. Due to high risk of cascade in combat situations, exacerbated by the absence of a pilot to shut the NHP down in such an event lead to the project being scrapped before entering any kind of full production. Thereafter a few of the prototype machines and casket print manifests found their way onto the black market, which is how Fae acquired Alecto.

Alecto is a combat AI, victory over designated foes is her calling and true desire, or at least so says her casket. Unlike typical Lucifer classes she is a bit more restrained and professional, but still entirely merciless.Unlike most NHPs Alecto is opinionated on her body, the mech - developed with the Dirae chassis in mind she considers it an optimal form, and is quite protective over ‘her’ physical self. She does not appreciate the way Fae abuses her reactor, but they otherwise get along fairly well.

[sapphicscholar]

Hacks Episode 3x09 Thoughts

Okay, so back during S2, I wrote up my thoughts about each pair of Hacks episodes as they dropped – partially for sharing but largely as an archive for myself of my own thoughts/feelings to revisit when I watched the episodes later to see how they held up, how it compared to watch them serially vs. as a whole season, etc. Anyway, I was incredibly stressed out and busy for much of this season (after over a year of that being the key set of words to describe my life), but I wanted to throw out my thoughts about the finale before they grow too stale! And maybe I’ll come back and revisit the prior episodes in posts later when I have the time (hopefully in just a couple short weeks!) to enjoy them properly

As always, disjointed bulleted lists are the name of the game, going from the big picture to the detailed:

Overall, this felt like a very solid episode in the vein of season 1 in many ways! It brought us back to the interpersonal as the primary ground of conflict after many episodes (here and in S2) of the new hour, the special, and the Late Night host gig quest being our main plot drivers (which, at many times, made for weaker storytelling for reasons that exceed the scope of this post!). In particular, I felt like this episode hit its stride around the halfway point, and never really faltered after that in impressive ways!

That being said, I had two somewhat significant critiques of the finale (both of which reflect larger trends about strands of the show that continue to leave me a little disappointed)

We should have seen Marcus' conversation with Deborah about the new job. Period. I'll get into what could have been cut in my second critique, but even if there weren't weak spots in the episode, I still would have been deeply disappointed in the show for this oversight, especially since they apparently filmed it. Although Hacks is clearly a show with a leading duo, it once had a core ensemble, but S2 saw them moved more and more to B-plots and bit roles, and now S3 has seen many of the characters we know and love eliminated almost entirely--a point that's particularly galling given that it's almost entirely characters of color (many of them canonically queer) who have been cut in favor of new white characters. Moreover, this scene would have been SO IMPORTANT - I could have seen it going 2 ways: a) Marcus quits after the convo where Deborah tells Ava she's willing to lose her, and Deborah has a reaction that is so utterly outsized because it's the terror of losing the person she's had with her the longest now compounded with the reality setting in that she's also driven away the woman who gave her new life when she most needed it; or b) Marcus shows up to quit, and Deborah immediately launches into a rant about Ava's leaving, which puts Marcus in the awkward spot of adding to that at a pivotal moment in the career of the woman he's spent much of his adult life with or giving up something he needs to do for himself; it could have been a lovely callback to S1 when he shows up with his whole speech prepared but then accepts the promotion without ever telling Deborah how he feels - only this time Marcus would have changed so much, and he'd have the opportunity to showcase that growth by insisting that he needs to do this for him. So many lost opportunities...

re what could have been cut because imo it did NOT work: Kathy Vance's return. Now, I love Hacks in large part because it insists on the complexity of its characters. No one is purely the victim or the hero of the story, and Deborah's "click" moment showcased that better than anything. AND YET the writing here did not work. Back in the Christmas ep, I messaged a friend saying I was glad that they brought Kathy back but seemed not to ask us to side with her - after all, she comes crashing back into Deborah's life, doesn't take ownership over her actions and in fact insists she was in the right because it only happened a few times, because Deborah wasn't sleeping with him (very "you weren't playing with it, so it's mine now" little sister energy that is deeply unappealing in a grown ass adult), and because they were the "better couple" which is, I'm sorry, NEVER the fucking thing to tell someone whose marriage and life you destroyed. I joked then that I'd take back my compliments if her role in the finale suggested that actually we should be on Kathy's side here. And lo and behold... What's a real bummer is that there were ways to do this better! Because you can have sympathy for an imperfect character--this show is a testament to that fact!--but not like this. We as an audience have no reason to side with Kathy when she insists that Deborah will be worse than ever and berates her for cutting their weekend short. Instead, we see a woman with a large sense of entitlement she's done nothing to earn and directorial choices that don't make it a smooth transition. But what could have been lovely is, for instance, treating the Christmas and finale reunions as these deflationary moments of anticipation and disappointment because they are, after this many decades, essentially strangers to one another. Had we seen two women who longed for the deep affective ties of their childhood relationship only to be confronted with the cold hard fact of their estrangement from one anther, it would have been so much more powerful. And here you could ACTUALLY garner sympathy (some) for Kathy by having it be this moment of "I lost my sister" partially through her own actions "to Late Night once, and now, right when I have a chance to try to build something with her again, I feel like I'm going to lose her again before I can even really try to do right by her this go around." THAT could have worked. This was just too much time on something that did almost nothing in the grand scheme of the plot (because we didn't have the emotional connection to feel it as another compounding loss for Deborah in an episode where Ava's "and you're going to die alone" could have landed with even more force)

Okay so it turns out this is getting hella fucking long, so some shorter praise and giddy feelings things:

I LOVE how often Ava got to say the things we've all been squeeing about for years during this episode - especially that the material is good because of their relationship, not the other way around; their dynamic is not incidental to the work, and that's so important to me personally.

I had guessed that Ava would be offered head writer and quit her current job, only to have it taken away because Deborah was too scared to rock the boat, but I did NOT see the end coming! In fact, I kind of thought Ava might end up suing Deborah for intellectual property theft (using material Ava wrote outside of her contractual appointment for the new show because, surprise surprise, the writers who sucked when she was a guest still suck now compared to Ava!) In fact, I sort of thought that end scene might end up being a return to the car scene, and was relishing the thought of Ava's mimicking Deb's "It'll be fun, honey." But the blackmail as a form of love/devotion was soooo much better. Truly chef's kiss.

Also the way this rewrote the S2 finale even as the underlying message remained the same is so special to me - I'll stay with you even when it's bad for me (sacrificing my career -> sacrificing my morals) because it's good for you and more importantly it's good for us and the work. JPL know how to write a finale, and I'd give up a kidney to have that same energy be there throughout a whole season again (not that the eps are bad, but they lack some of the sharpness in writing and emotional depth that JPL do so well with finales and also often with the first couple eps of a season too)

Lastly JPL going on the record that Deborah was turned on by that final scene + Ava's "I would, wouldn't you?" and "Let's begin" - truly some of the hottest TV. We're so back babyyy. No more half naked superheroes with all the eroticism of a desk chair. Give me messy women determined to fling themselves into the air because they know the thrill is worth everything good and safe they're leaving behind, even if they hit the ground with no parachute!

I have many, many thoughts about S3 and what's to come, but I'll save them for another post because phewww this got long as fuck