#this was fun! maybe it's time to revisit this ask game

[flickeringflame216]

For the book ask game: crimson

This ask is from December 4, 2022. I am sorry! It got buried in my inbox until I cleaned it out very recently. A book that feels crimson to me is Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis. Crimson is at once the animalistic ignorance of Glome (the sacrifices, the wine, the king's anger, the whole feel of the House of Ungit) and the pain of the Mountain (Orual's confusion and hatred and Psyche's certainty) and the deep and unbearable Answer given at the end, with the "red firelight in the room and the rain on the roof." It feels like such an Orual color to me, but also a Psyche color because they're both so passionate and think deeply about what they believe.

thanks for the ask!

[luveline]

Hey Jade!

I can’t remember if you’ve already written this or not but if not, could you please write bombshell!reader finally joining the BAU? I wanna know how Spencer and everyone else reacted to her finally joining

Thanks lovely :) hope you’re doing well

ty for requesting 💌 fem, 1.3k

The trek from the SCU to the BAU is familiar. If you aren’t being asked to consult, or occasionally brought along on sex crime specific cases, you’ll make any excuse to get there. A broken laptop, an updated reading list, a good cup of coffee. Spencer Reid always provides. 

He just doesn’t get it. You think about it every time you see him, but he can’t understand how nice, kind, and pretty he really is, or he wouldn’t be so shy, and he wouldn’t act surprised to have you seeking him out. 

He’s sitting now behind his desk with a hand over his mouth. You can tell he’s smiling despite it, a warm light to his brown eyes as you approach. 

“Hello,” you say. 

“Hi.” He sniffs, curling his hand into a fist under his nose. His smile is a thousand times more obvious as he tries to hide. “You okay?” 

“Hotch asked me to come. You don’t know what it’s for?” 

His smile finally softens before fading to a more neutral expression. “I have no idea.” 

You wipe your hands down over your hips. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine, and not at all like last time.” Hotch has never been angry with you before. It was strange. “I hope he still likes me.” 

“What are you talking about? Of course he does.” 

“What am I talking about?” You agree. “Kiss for luck?” 

“Pucker up,” Morgan says, a coffee cup in hand. Without coffee you’re sure this office would cease to function. 

You shoot him a smile, Spencer a promising look to return, and start up the stairs to the office. You watch your shoes on each step, their shiny black, and you try not to be nervous, but Spencer was acting strange and Hotch has enough reason to revisit his anger. 

Your best defence is a smile, you decide. If you act like nothing happened, you won’t get another rehashing of your mistakes. 

You knock his door. “Hotch? It’s me.” 

“Come in, please.” 

You turn the handle and feel the weight of the door against your elbow as you enter. Hotch sits behind his desk, as usual, but when you’re a few paces from the desk he stand up, which is unusual. 

“How are you?” he asks.

Your eyes widen against your will. “I’m fine. How are you, Hotch? How’s your sweet boy? Did he have fun at little league?” 

“Jack’s perfect. I’m good, I need to talk to you about something.” 

“I assumed.” You wait. Then, neck growing warm, “If it’s about last time, I'm still so sorry.” 

“I’m not going to get angry at you twice for a mistake. But no, that’s not what you’re here for.” 

He’s making you nervous. Is this a guessing game? You lean into your nerves and put your arms behind your back, grasping your wrist as you tilt your head ever so slightly to the side. “It’s not about Spencer, is it? I told you, he’s just a friend. A good friend. But I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise my chances.” 

“It’s about that.” 

You stand straighter. “I do like him,” you confess, which Hotch already knows. Everybody seems to know except for Spencer. It’s not like you’re in love with him, just you could be, maybe. “But I’m really not– I would never do anything–” You start again. “I want this job more than anything. I know I flirt and I make more jokes than I should, but I take the work seriously, I promise. You guys are the most impressive people I know and I might feel like you’re a friend to me, Hotch, but you have to know how much I admire you. I admire Spencer, and I’d never let my feelings impede my professional ability.” 

“Y/N, I’m not reprimanding you for anything.” 

You swallow awkwardly. “You’re not?” 

He raises his eyebrows and turns to his desk. There’s a packet waiting across his outgoings, which he picks up and gives to you. “I need you to fill these in, first and foremost.” 

He’s smiling. Why is he smiling? 

You peer inside cautiously. Chest suddenly aching, thinking, It isn’t what you want, don’t break your own heart, you pull out the very top sheet from inside. FBI letterhead greets you. 

Facilitation of department transfer for Y/N L/N from the Sexual Crimes Unit to the Behavioural Analysis Unit, as requested by Unit Chief Supervisory Special Agent A. Hotchner and approved by Unit Chief S. Peterson. 

You lay it on top of the envelope. All the papers whine under your tight hand. “You requested it?” you ask. 

“Months ago.” 

“And Sandy said yes.” 

“Strauss, finally. If you sign them today, Penelope’s promised to expedite your processing, whether that’s fair or not. Your desk is ready.” 

“Hotch,” you whisper, not without excitement, but sound hard to summon, “are you serious? You’re not messing with me?”

“You deserve it. You have for a long time.” 

You squeeze your eyes closed. For five long seconds, you stand there, and you think about how hard you’ve worked and how badly you’ve wanted this, and how much faith everybody’s had in you the whole time. You’re so thankful. For Hotch, Morgan, and especially for Spencer Reid. 

“Don’t get upset,” Hotch says, taking your arm. He gives it a good squeeze. It’s so friendly and kind you consider jumping up to wrap your arms around him, but you restrain yourself. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, pressing the packet to your chest. 

“You’re welcome. I didn’t mind fighting for you.” 

“I need to go and tell Spencer.” 

“Spencer, your good friend.” 

Your laugh comes in fractures from a sudden deep breath. “My good friend,” you agree. “Hotch, thank you. Thank you, I’m gonna go tell Spencer. I’ll be right back.” 

“It’s fine. Just make sure you finish those forms before lunch.” 

You leave with some dignity. You close Hotch’s office door, and you walk to the balcony and look down at Spencer where he’s waiting for you. His hair falls against his neck, his head angled up, and he’s smiling so hard he must’ve already known what you were summoned into the office for. 

You rush down the stairs. He, in all his loveliness, stands in time to open his arms. “I can’t believe it,” you say, your laugh like a ring as you lean against him. He holds you tight and hugs right back, forcing you to bend under his weight. “Spencer.” 

He pulls away just as quickly. “Tell me,” he says. 

“I’m gonna be part of the BAU.” It’s so insane to finally say aloud. 

Spencer looks extremely, achingly happy for you, but his second hug still surprises you. Your nose ends up pressed to his hair, strands of it falling from behind his ear as his palm cups your shoulder. 

You close your eyes. Spencer laughs, his lips a hair's width from your cheek. 

Your excitement grows too much. You squirm away from him and wrap your hands around yourself, holding in a girlish, giggly squeal. “I did it. I can’t believe I did it.” 

He takes your hand. You barely notice. “Why can’t you believe that? You’re amazing. You work hard and you didn’t give up.” 

Morgan returns from wherever he’s been with Emily and Garcia in tow. “There she is!” he says. 

It’s possibly the best round of hugs you’ve ever had in your life. The little congratulations cupcake they present you with is the sweetest you’ve ever tasted. Spencer puts a makeshift name tag on your desk and you don’t bother pretending your eyes haven’t filled with tears, but nobody cares or minds. 

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓘 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾:

𝒪𝒻𝒻 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈

Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Its been five months since you started sleeping together, and you're having second thoughts about your "relationship" with Javier. But what does it matter to him? he hasn't even kissed you yet. 🍒 Continuation of “Off to the Races” and “Your Face is Shameless” but can be read alone.

Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, thicc age gap [Javi is in his 40s reader is in her early 20s], mentions of anxiety, major angst, situationship, guilt, unrequited love, self loathing, kissing [they did it!], Javier is emotionally unavailable, petnames, major dom/sub dynamic [dd/lg ish vibes], mean!Javi then soft!dom!Javi, degradation, dumbification, minor objectification, major size kink [Javi is bigger than and can lift reader], praise kink [finally some good girl action], daddy kink, choking, pussy pronouns, finger sucking, oral [f receiving], unprotected P in V [ do better!!]. Let me know if i missed anything 🫶

Word count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello!! I'm back!! thought it would be fitting to revisit these two post hiatus. Sorry in advance for the emotional torture that is about to ensue, but I couldn't help myself. Big thank you to @pixelsandothernonsense for being a big supporter of these two and fuelling their return on the blog time and time again. Lotsa plot, lotsa porn– as always. Hope you enjoy, nasties. Mwah

🍒Off to the races 🍒Your face is shameless 🍒Masterlist

You wanted it to be easy but it’s difficult. You wanted it to be over, but it was not. 

While Colombia seemed to be all fun and games at first sight, the longer you remained stuck in the American embassy’s city centre building the more you longed for home. 

Your research was hitting a roadblock, and things were hard. Funding was running out, and your professors were running away. Better jobs, better prospects. But your degree was the least cause for your troubles. 

You were smart. You were controlled. You didn’t know what you were thinking when you got yourself involved with Javier Peña. It seemed fun at the moment- fooling around, messing with a man double your age and four times more qualified. Trying to wrangle his true intentions out from under his furrowed brow and frown. 

Looking back you felt stupid. Embarrassed. A little ashamed of what you had become. How you let him treat you. 

He used you like a walking sex doll. Didn’t give you one look afterwards. Maybe a pat on the back but somehow that was more insulting. He had never kissed you. And there you were, fixing your makeup in the office bathroom after an evening under his desk had ruined it. 

It had been five months since the first time he'd bent you over his desk but you were only half way through your trip. Five more months seemed too long to bear. It made you sick. 

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. You looked tired, and sleepy and your clothes weren’t crisp as usual. You felt a little bit like the tissue you’d just dabbed against your cheek. A little flimsy and a little dirty. A little used, perhaps. 

It felt a little worse knowing it was all your doing. You weren’t expecting a man like Javier to change. Objectively, it wasn’t possible. But you still asked for more. For him to use and then forget about you. You wanted to leave. You wished he’d never seen this side of you. Frankly you wished you hadn’t either. 

Because you were smart and funny and interesting and could talk about all sorts of things. You liked music and books and movies and trying new food. But he’d never seen you that way. He never would. 

You hadn’t spoken to him once. Not about anything that wasn’t strictly utilitarian. Especially not after he started fucking you. It was far too awkward and far too intimate. 

For him. 

Your feelings flip flopped every day, from the casualty of the affair seeming rather appealing, to it making your chest ache. And yet you couldn’t seem to help yourself, unable to understand not only what this thing you had going on with Agent Peña was, but why you couldn't seem to stop. 

Five months camping out in the office and you hadn’t missed a single day. No matter how bad the hurt in your chest you rolled out of bed and reminded yourself of why you were where you were. It worked. It hurt, but it worked. 

But after five months it seemed like getting out of bed was suddenly impossible one morning and you thought it best to stay home. You got a few calls. One from Fiestl and Van Ness. Connie Murphy sent Steve over with soup when she heard you weren’t feeling well. 

No news from Javi Peña. 

You slept most of the day. With your computer shut and materials put away. You didn’t want to think about it. You fixed yourself dinner- instant noodles, and headed to bed once again. 

You thought it was temporary but the excruciating pain only lingered and carried you on to another day confined to the four walls of your bedroom. 

It was a bad idea- ignoring your work for as long as you did. You should have known that you wouldn’t be able to put it on the back burner- considering the neurosis surrounding your work, the fact you took a two day break was impressive. It wasn’t long before your anxiety was eating away at you, an impending deadline hanging over your head and reminding you the world didn't care about your little pity party. 

Stupid as it was, you found yourself crossing the street at the witching hour of 23:00- clad in the soft cotton dress you forced yourself into earlier that evening. The friday night had persuaded everyone out of the office, and you weren’t surprised when you found the top floor of the embassy building cold and empty. 

You were glad, and perhaps it was the only way you could stomach being there– alone. 

Your desk was exactly how you’d left it a couple of days ago- your books piled in one corner, papers thrown all over the place. It was disorganised and untidy– very unlike you. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you began to sort things out, a feeling of complete exhaustion and defeat threatening to force you into your office chair. You glanced over at Javier’s office, signs he was out for the week prompting the slight relaxation of your shoulders. 

When you finally sat down to get to work, your eyes couldn't help but flutter shut every few moments, the screen of your computer zoning in and out of your vision every now and then. The words seemed to escape you, four lines on your document all you could manage before you were pressing your forehead against the wood of your desk. 

After spending the past two days sleeping somehow all you wanted to do was climb right back into bed. 

Music, surely that would help! Or at least you thought, to no avail, a whole album played once, yet you could only manage another paragraph. Turns out burnout was real.. and it had decided now was the best time to get you. But you weren’t ready to pack up and banish yourself to your studio apartment just yet. So you upped the volume, and sat up just a little bit straighter in your chair, and got back to work. 

Something about the loneliness of working in that drab, white, characterless office was especially miserable. So miserable in fact it was almost comforting, it was so miserable it was funny. It wasn't long before you were sitting completely straight in that sad, uncomfortable office chair, laughing at yourself with a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. You were stupid, and acted silly, and had all these big feelings, but what did it matter? It was diabolical; the capacity Javier had for ruining your life, but soon enough you’d be out of here and one day you’d probably be laughing at the whole ordeal. 

It was exhausting, but what could you do? The words came just a little bit easier from that point, and you felt yourself accept defeat and immersed yourself in your paper. At the end of the day you couldn’t control how he felt about you- you just had to take it or leave it. Not everything is that deep, you rolled your eyes at yourself, but you knew truthfully the lack of his care and affection was more than a little sting. You decided you were better off defining the “relationship” for yourself, and maybe showing a little bit more restraint. Who said everything had to be that serious, maybe you should've taken a page out of Javier’s book! 

Yes that was it, not everything was that serious, was it?

You really wished you’d had the foresight to gauge the stupidity of trying to drown out your surroundings in a public space in the middle of the night. Sure, no external threat could get you inside the excessively secure embassy building, but what did that mean when the real threat to your sanity was the DEA attache. 

Truth be told, you'd have jumped in fear if anyone had tapped their fingers on your computer screen, but when Javier rounded your desk with a raised brow and waved his hand in front of your computer, you were particularly startled. 

“The hell are you doing here?” 

Any other time you’d probably met him with a snappy reply, something to get him going, maybe rile him up enough till he was pressing your face against your papers and fucking you from the back. You wished you could have given him that response that day, but you were so completely out of yourself, you settled for a shrug and a normal “trying to finish this section”. 

“That why you disappeared these past two days?”

“I wish.. probably would have been done by now.” His brows kit, somewhat confused and just noticing your tired, puffy eyes now that he was closer. 

“When’s it due.” he leaned to sit on your table , and traced your features with his fingers. You felt your eyes flutter shut as the tip of his index ran along the bridge of your nose, and feared your new policy was at risk of being thrown right out of the window at his attention. Sighing, you leaned into his touch. Unhappy, but unable to resist it. “Next week.”

He pitched your damp cheeks between his fingers, gently shaking your head from side to side. “You've got time.” 

You hummed and took a moment to look up at him- yellow table lamp doing his golden features all sorts of favours, ones that he didn't even need to begin with if you were being honest.The weight of his hand, the roughness of his skin against yours had a soft sigh escaping your lips. 

Javier's hand moved slowly, almost hesitantly, to the back of your neck, and he gently guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you helped yourself up long enough to watch him rise beside you, stepping closer. He stepped around you, positioning himself between yourself and the chair, his breath warm against your ear. 

"Sit," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. His hand moved to the back of your neck again, this time pulling you down onto his lap. The gesture was possessive, not tender. 

You obeyed, lowering yourself onto him,  your legs on either side of his waist, dangling off the seat. Javier's hands rested on your waist momentarily, heavy and harsh, before drifting lower to your hips, pulling you further into his lap till you could feel his bulge swell against you. You felt yourself get wet, he lifted your hips and then pulled you back down against him, allowing you the slight relief of the friction as you felt yourself embarrassingly throb against him. 

The proximity was suffocating, his scent—cigarettes, and aftershave. He leaned closer, and for a moment, in your delusion, you thought he might kiss you. Instead his fingers squeezed around your throat, breath fanning your lips. “You want to be daddy’s good girl, dontch’ya?” his voice was low, and biting, and you knew you were in for it, for avoiding him, when he tightened his grip at your lack of answer. 

Slick pooled in your panties, and he let you press your hot core against him, undoubtedly able to feel how easily he could unravel you. You shifted your gaze up at the ceiling to avoid his own. 

You squeaked out a feeble “yes”, already delirious. “Then why the fuck, did you think you could disappear without telling me?” He reached for the string that held together the top of your dress, rather aggressively tugging it undone, watching as it unravelled and revealed the soft cotton of your lingerie. “Busy” you whined when traced your skin with his pointer finger, palm coming to squeeze at your breast and then pull your bra aside. 

“Not looking too busy now, are ya?” your nipple pebbled under his palm, his hot breath fanning against your skin as he trailed open mouth kisses along your neck. You whimpered, reaching to tangle your fingers in Javier’s hair. Surprisingly, he let you tug on his locks, allowing you to ground yourself as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your bud. He came up to nip at your jaw and you whimpered  a soft “M’ sorry”. 

“What was that?” Javier rolled his eyes and growled in your ear, grazing your earlobe with his teeth, and pinching the flesh of your thighs, prompting you to speak up. And speak up you did, heat seeping into your panties at his tone and words. He didn’t respond to you, just hummed his assent and pulled you harder against him. 

His hands found the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up and into his arms. You wrapped your legs around him and his big arms crossed under you to support your weight. Continuing to kiss along your neck he plopped you on the table, but you couldn’t lie, you much preferred being carried so gently in his hold. Thank god the desk had been cleared– giving him enough room to push you back against it. You didn't really want to unwrap your legs from around him, but he grunted disapprovingly before prying your legs from his waist. Your heart jumped as he took a seat on your dingy rolly chair, his large palms lifting your legs by your calves till your feet were planted on his thighs. You propped yourself up on your elbows. 

Javier's eyes caught sight of your untied shoelace, a small hazard in the midst of your hurried night. As usual, without a word, he leaned down, fingers deftly working to tie the lace in a swift, fluid motion, securing the bow with a final, firm tug, patting the top of your shoe before returning to the task at hand. 

His eyes were hungry like they always were, deep brown, alluring, the only readable emotion in them- lust. Those large palms parted your knees, making space for you between them. A tingle ran up your spine when he brushed the tips of his fingers against the inside of your thigh, dragging them along your skin till he was toying with the hem of your panties. He shifted forward in the chair, meeting your eyes as he planted a kiss on your calf, and then hoisted your legs up on his shoulders. 

Javier took a moment to admire you, letting his rough hands roam under your skirt. You always wondered what those hands were doing; how they wrapped around his gun when he ran out of the office with it, how small they made the cigarette he was smoking look. You watched him grab, and hold, and type from across your desk when he hadn’t fucked you in a day or two, imagined those hands grabbing at your flesh and wrapping around your throat. You imagined him pumping his fingers in and out your pussy with your own hands between your legs in the middle of the night- unable to go mere days without him fucking you, salivating at the thought of those hands wrapped around his thick cock, wondering if he too couldn’t go without your touch. 

Lost in your thoughts you shuddered when you felt him drag his tongue up the cut of your slit, the already moist fabric of your panties sticking to your skin as he nudged your clit with his nose. Your head fell back involuntarily, and you felt your arms ache as you continued to struggle to hold yourself up on your elbows. Seemingly, he had decided that day he wasn’t going to make you work for it- you looked like you were working far too much already. 

“Look at me.” Javier sharply instructed from between your legs. Nipping the inside of your right thigh till you yelped in his hold. You weren't going to last very long at the sight of him, eyes glancing up at you as his mouth ghosted over your soaked pussy. You watched intently as his fingers pulled your panties aside, softly grazing your swollen flesh in a way that had you pulling your lip between your teeth to contain the pornographic moan that threatened to spill from your mouth and alert the security guard across the hall. 

Your leg twitched on his shoulder as he licked a long, firm stripe up your aching pussy. Both your eyes fluttered shut as his tongue softly explored your folds. The sight of Javier between your legs was enough to send you over the edge, one that would live in your head for a very long time. 

You struggled to hold his eyes with your own when he licked at your entrance, increasing his pace ever so slightly before he was softly sucking your clit into his mouth. Letting yourself lean back against the table you reached to continue to tangle your fingers in his hair, hoping he'd let you have his fluffy locks in your hold. Turns out you were lucky the first time, because as was more common, Javier reminded you of his “no grabbing at daddy” attitude by grasping your hand in his. 

“No grabbin at daddy, babygirl” he murmured against your wetness and you shivered. His fingers engulfed yours, stroking your skin and moving your hands to your chest. His large palm covered yours and squeezed your fingers around your breasts. You moaned, and arched your back against the table up into both your palms as his tongue achingly slipped inside you. 

The feel of his mouth against you was more than perfect, the way he expertly ate you out till you were wiggling your hips against his face, his nose nudging your clit as he fucked you with his tongue. Slow and soft then faster and rough, just how he knew you liked it. 

He seemed to be enjoying the feeling of you just as much,  groaning against your wet cunt everytime you twitched and shuddered against him, the taste of you prompting him only to bury himself deeper between your thighs, pull and grab at your hips, hold you close against him as your chest rose and fell. 

Javier lashed his tongue at your entrance, then plunged it into your slick cunt. You felt your core tighten, and you knew you couldn’t hold on much longer. “Please…” barely able to complete your sentence you squealed when he circled your clit with his tongue. You could feel him grin against the inside of your thigh, and you reached for his hands on your hips to tug at his fingers feebly. 

Making out the sound of his chuckle over your heavy breathing you whined, and then proceeded to melt in his hold when he responded with a rather gentle, yet delayed and somewhat playfully annoyed “You can come for daddy, babygirl.” 

The grip of your fingers on his tightened, and you sighed, finally letting go as Javier worked between your legs. Your cunt clamped down on his tongue as he finished you off, licking you through your orgasm and holding your hips down as you shook and squirmed above him. 

He kissed along your seam gently as you caught your breath, your breath hitching when he pushed two fingers in your still sensitive cunt to gently stroke your walls. He stifled a groan. You looked down between your legs as he withdrew those fingers and began to stand up. “She so fuckin wet for me, hmm?” He rubbed slow, soft circles on your clit, not caring to watch you intently for any giveaway that would instruct him on the perfect rhythm. He already knew what you liked- he didn’t need to bother. “Slutty little pussy achin’ to be fucked… after all these days, aint she?” 

He took a second to get a good look at you as he moved closer between your legs, and you propped yourself back up on your elbows and wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him in. 

“My good little slut” 

Bringing his fingers to your lips he urged them open, pushing in and watching you suck gently on his digits. You shivered at the taste of your own arousal. As always you felt a little fuzzy when he did something like that– letting your eyes droop until he nudged you to release them with a pop. He ran those fingers across your lips, watching you struggle to keep your eyes on him as his hand drifted downwards to wrap swiftly around your neck.  “That's better isn't it?” he pressed his clothed cock against your bare, swollen pussy, your panties surely on the verge of ripping the way they’d been pulled aside. Javier seemed to be thinking along the same lines as you, because in a moment he reached for them and urgently dragged them down your hips, unwrapping himself from your hold and holding your ankles in one hand as the other slid your panties all the way off of you. 

When you whined at the loss of his body against yours he tutted, raising his eyebrows at you in warning. 

He then grabbed your thigh with his hand once again, squeezing it and holding it in place against his waist. You heard the jingle of his belt as he undid it. A rough edge on said belt scraped against your skin, but it was difficult to pay attention to it when you felt him reach between your bodies to tease your dripping slit with his length. 

It was sad to admit, but nothing took the weight of your shoulders much like the feeling of his hard cock sliding against your wet pussy, head bumping your clit till you were shivering and then notching at your entrance. You heard him mutter a strained curse under his breath at the feeling of your cunt sucking him in. Javier didn't waste much time, as much as he seemed to enjoy the sight of you deliriously wiggling your hips under him. 

He leaned down and traced the curve of your jaw with the bridge of his nose, breathing in your scent as he pushed in– slowly and gently. Much slower and gentler than he had ever been before. Your legs tightened around him, hips lifting pathetically as you felt him stretch you open. It had been far too long since you’d had him inside you. 

“Such a good little girl..” His hips snapped towards yours. 

“Aren’t ya?” It was an out of body experience, so overwhelming and dizzying you could almost see yourself in the act. Your brain couldn’t comprehend that tone and that gentleness as is, forget when Javier’s cock dragged deliciously against your aching walls. 

Your elbows caved from under you, letting you fall completely back against your little desk. Your head went to fall back soon after, but Javier had managed to snake his hand behind your neck– cradling your head and shielding it from the hard wooden table. Instinctively, you buried your nose in the collar of his dress shirt. He let you seek respite, palm holding you against his warm body, and pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck. 

Your skin felt like pins and needles, little sparks bounced off your exposed waist and prompted you to wiggle your hips away from him at the intensity of the sensations. “Nah uh” yanking you back in his direction Javier squeezed your hips in his hands, refusing to let you escape the death grip he had on your body, pulling you towards him with every deep, slow, thrust. 

“Silly little thing” He laughed against your lips, so close they brushed against you. You couldn’t help it when your mouth fell slack against his. He took your bottom lip between his teeth. He released it as your walls clenched around him, brows knitting at the feel of your warm, soft cunt around his cock. 

“Mine aren’t ya? Daddy’s good little slut?” Unable to catch hold of anything on the table, your hands flew to his shirt, your fingers twisting the fabric as you gripped it as tightly as you could. He let you pull him towards you, one hand sneaking between your bodies to grab and squeeze at your breast. 

“Then you’re gonna take it like I give it to ya?” You tried to nod, head lulling side to side and mouth hanging open, desperate noises leaving your lips. When your back arched against the table he  pulled you into his chest, letting you wrap your legs around his waist so tightly you felt the leather of his belt cut into your soft skin. 

Eventually he picked up his pace, and you could make out the sound of your pens clattering to the ground as your back moved relentlessly against the desk. The dim grey flood light above you came in and out of your focus, the heat that swelled up inside you hindering your ability to concentrate on absolutely anything.  “Getting all cock drunk on me..” Anything but him. Yet another orgasm stirred in your tummy, your entire body hot and tingling with overwhelm. “There’s my good girl”. 

He pulled you into him with every thrust, his hard length throbbing inside of you. “Just how I like ya’– no thoughts in that head’ve yours.” Your bare chest pressed against his soft shirt, but you longed to feel the heat of his body against your skin. 

“Can't think ‘bout anything but daddy can you?” he managed to laugh, his thick cock dragging against your wet walls in a way that had your mouth falling open in a gasp. “Just daddy, ain't that right?” As usual he grabbed at every part of you he could, hands seeking purchase on any exposed skin. 

He grazed your earlobe with his teeth as he spoke. “Poor baby, going dumb on daddy.” All you could do was whine. “Can’t hear ya..” you whimpered again, strained and hasty “yes”s leaving your mouth at record speed as the tension in your core threatened to burst. 

“S’ how it should be” your dress made it easy for you to slide along the surface of the table as he fucked into your tight, wet heat, railing you as you twitched around him. You struggled to form a broken “daddy” between your lips. 

“Stupid little girl can’t do anything but be daddy’s little sexdoll hmm?” you shook your head, but he grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed. “‘S okay babylove, s’ how daddy likes ya best” he shook your face gently, “when ya ain't runnin that smart mouth of yours.” 

He grunted and sighs above you, seemingly lost in his own pleasure, not bothering for the first time to make you beg. It was as if the two days you spent apart had him prioritising other things. “Better this way isn’t it, nothin you gotta worry that pretty head about…” you felt your cunt squeeze him. “Not when daddy’s fuckin’ ya’” 

You could tell he was close by the way his thick cock throbbed against your slick walls, the way his Texan accent came through just a little more than it usually did. Your thighs quivered against his waist as the heat continued to pool in your belly. 

You knew he was close when he straightened up again, hands wrapping firmly around your throat as he angled his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you over and over. “C’mon baby, be a good girl and come for daddy” he tightened his grip, thumb reaching up to swipe gently at your slack lips. 

You felt your pussy clench around his cock, finally letting go as you writhed under him. You heard him groan over the ringing in your ears, your own eyes rolling back as your orgasm rolled over you in waves. You gushed around him, your own release prompting his. 

Watching his brows knit as his thrusts got sloppy might have well sent you on a second release, aftershocks making your hips wiggle against his palms as he squeezed them, his cock throbbing inside you before he erupted with a shudder. A string of strained curses escaped his mouth, chest rising and falling rapidly as he rode out his high. 

You laid there, the heat from your exertion slowly dissipating. You felt Javier pull out, his spend trickling down your thighs, and slide your panties back up over your legs. A heaviness tugged at your limbs and made your eyelids droop. Every muscle felt loose, languid, as if all the tension and energy had been drawn out, leaving behind only a deep, satisfying fatigue. 

Javier put his hands on your waist and lifted you off the table, you returned to your habitual silence, this time albeit far more satiated than before. You were dizzy, feeling like a small ghost floating in front of him, engulfed by his towering form. The world around you began to fade, sounds muffling and blurring into an indistinct background hum.

Every blink became slower, your vision narrowing to slits before closing entirely. You let yourself drift into that warm state between sleep and wakefulness, the exhaustion of the week catching up to you in more ways than one, uncaring of the sense that Javier’s eyes had been lingering. You felt him trace the bridge of your nose, reducing any prospects of you actually getting off that desk. 

He fixed your lingerie and tied the bow of your dress back up, one hand returning to stroke your cheek. His other arm came to support your back as it wrapped around you, pulling you towards him. You looked up to find him watching you, with an expression you couldn’t bother to decipher at the moment. 

You couldn’t help but fall into his chest as he stood above you, his arms reaching behind you as he packed your things in your work bag. You felt your eyes flutter shut again, complete exhaustion taking over your weak form. He placed a kiss to your temple, lifting you off the table once and into his hold once again. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, locking securely at the ankles. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, fingers digging into your flesh.

You felt cold again suddenly, and Javier readjusted his arms to hold you with his right while his left rubbed along your shoulders to warm up your skin, prickled with goosebumps. 

Your head rested against his shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek a comforting, rhythmic lull. You nuzzled deeper into the curve of his neck, tilting your head till your nose was brushing the cut of his jaw. 

Javier shifted slightly, and you could feel the subtle change in his posture as he leaned towards you, and his face came level with yours– you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, a stark contrast to the cool air around you. His hand cradled your cheek. 

With your eyes still closed you felt his lips press gently against yours, so pillowy and soft you barely registered them. He tasted how you’d imagined so many times before– cigarettes, and whiskey. Melting into his touch your hands moved to ball the fabric of his shirt gently in your fist. His lips moved against your’s with a carefulness you couldn’t really understand, but the fact that they were at all was enough. Exhaustion aside, you had a feeling the triviality of the whole ordeal, its comfort and normality seemed expected. And just as quickly as it began, it was over.

Perhaps it had always meant a lot more to you, than it did to him. 

The hand that was cupping your cheek pinched it and then snaked around your waist to help you find your footing on the ground, the same hand coming down to slap your ass as he pushed you towards the door. 

In usual Javier fashion he checked his phone, uninterestedly murmuring a soft “you can start again tomorrow” as you stood in the elevator. He let you lean against him, his palm coming down to pat your head momentarily before it was back to sorting the files in his hands.  You looked up at him, his mind now completely diverted to whatever he had come to collect in the office in the first place, so unbothered by what seemed to transpire between the two of you. 

Perhaps nothing really did. 

You wished his words gave you some motivation, but it was turning out to be really difficult to want to be anything more than his dumb, silly, little girl. 

Who else is gonna put up with me this way?

I need you, I breathe you, I'll never leave you!

They would rue the day I was alone, without you

You're lyin' with your gold chain on

Cigar hangin' from your lips, I said, "Hon'"

"You never looked so beautiful as you do now, my man"

sakjdlakd I'm sorry I just can't let them be happy lmao. Hope you enjoyed this, and let me know what you think. Thank you to everyone who reblogs and comments on my content, you keep me writing. Dividers and banners by @/sardika 🐝✨💗

[darqx]

HEEEY MACARENA (ALRIGHT!)

Here's some long overdue BP and HH asks :) I tend to combine the two since there's not as many as the RADs, so this starts with BP and then moves into HH/Gen qs.

BP

MUAH ~ (I actually doodled this some time last year for fun and whimsy, based on those long mouth kiss meme pics XD)

A very quick overview of these types!

Vescordem: Maneaters/cannibals, excessively tall and strong.

Aleores: Minor dealmakers (goods and services). Jaw can unhinge and has venomous bite.

Sollicio: Major dealmakers - soul stealing ability. Often very good looking, has ichor powers.

Voxter: Ability to project 'thoughts' into someone else's mind - you ever have an intrusive thought? Same concept. All have a unique mark across the top part of their face.

Caumacies: Maneaters/cannibals, very strong. Has a third eye which sees only in heat vision - rarely opened simultaneously with normal eyes.

Hmm M or MA15 i think ��

You know, i actually have an idea for a game that has nothing to do with anything I'm currently doing XD One day i'll actually have time to make it, maybe. But anyway currently my actual project is i'm planning on making a comic \o/

I AM PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE that i have thumbnailed like 70 pages of this bloody thing and i'm still only in the first quarter of the planned chapters lol OTL Once i finish thumbing the chapter I'm on I plan to go back and render the pages properly before starting to post them :D

...which should hopefully give me a buffer as i repeat the process for the next chapters |D

You know, the concept of my characs being comfort characs for someone will never get old for me. It just tickles me pink ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ This answer will have two levels to it.

It's fine to RP or ask blog with Rire - he's one of my more "known" characs thanks to BTD so as long as credit is given (and it's made clear I'm not running the blog so it's not canon) then it's cool.

I'd prefer if no ask/RP blogs are created for any of my other BP or HH characs, as they are not as known yet. This may be revisited once i actually get the BP comic out but for now it's a no, sorry! (Though, if you are RPing in like...a private Discord with other friends who know who the characs are then I'm a bit more lenient with that.)

The reason for the BP/HH level is that ages ago when I had started establishing my own characs more, I randomly happened to find a forum where someone was RPing as Izm and .D but no one else knew who the characs were and so they clearly thought the RPer was the original artist and creator. Said RPer was not dissuading anyone of that notion. That has stuck with me for forever because at the time i never anticipated that someone would...actually try and do that with an OC. Like, bro srsly?!

One pet peeve for everyone:

.D: Willfully stupid people

Izm: .D smoking. He could care less if anyone else smokes but .D is not allowed on his watch

Marcus: Having decisions made for him without his input

Zeke: "How's the weather up there?"

Wei Ren: When people think he can't understand English cos he has an accent and so they deliberately speak slower and louder

Geez Caleb why are you damn RUDE

Here's one i prepared earlier! 😌

I'm not sure why you included Marcus as a demon, he's a human lol.

HH/More Gen

There are clubs which are created by students but need approval from the adults to exist.

HH is one of the better boarding schools which generally turn out successful alumni. The "obvious problems" we see are not actually obvious lol.

He doesn't need such manipulations.

Thanks! I hope you are inspired to go forth and create stuff! :D

One of the only perks of being a prefect at HH, really :d

Absolutely not lol

↓

4. These types of qs are always amusing to me only because you guys expect me to know but i absolutely do not XDD. Do normal people actually have a fave animal?? I dont even have a fave animal!! Anyway offshoot aside sorry that i can't even randomly assign anything, but if you are interested here is what they might be AS animals lol.

They actually don't have names because they were randomly designed NPCs i drew as like, placeholders |D;

Not including Rire or Nurse Isla:

.D is asexual, Izm is bisexual, and everyone else is straight probably. Caleb and Desmond are violently straight (as in Des is like very 90s stoner bro adamantly vocal about being straight and Caleb will actually try and break your neck for insinuating anything).

I have some female characs but I dont draw them that often as they are more side characs in BP and HH. The ones ive's drawn at least once are Isla (who looks like this, also doodled above), Tish (Des's sister) and Kenzie and Kelly (Zeke's sisters).

Every once in a blue moon i get an ask saying this but whenever i go to check nothing is wrong, so...nothing is wrong they do work |D; As the age old tech saying goes have you tried turning it off and on again? :d

Aren't those kind of things supposed to be...based on yourself??

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

teasing/testing/kissing 🥵 the devil request for lovely anon it's a short one, sorry about that! this heat's killing me. i might revisit this at some point. thank you so much once again laura for all of your help, advice and encouragement ❤️

Read on AO3

-

So dangerous it was to tease a devil, like holding your hand out near a hungry lion’s mouth. At some point he’d snatch out, faster than she could pull back, and the game would be over – but until then, Tav couldn’t deny the rush she experienced each time she denied him, each time she slipped away just as his claws were about to sink into her soft mortal flesh. The frustration, the intrigue that alighted his clever eyes and tensed his handsome shadowed jaw, were delicious treats she shamelessly feasted on. Holding any semblance of power over a creature like Raphael was addicting. To know he desired her the way she desired him was enough to make her toes curl in her boots.

The more he pulled, the more she pushed. At first it was light, easy. Heated glances shared, a flirty word here or there from a naturally charismatic charmer who liked to talk; words that she would return, equally blasé, equally sultry. To let him know she was interested. That she wanted to play. It was fun. Thrilling. Ah, but she was fanning the embers of a roaring inferno in her passionate devil, and she simply couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop.

“Have a drink with me,” he began to ask, to challenge. She wouldn’t be baited.

“Maybe some other time,” she’d say, all faux regret and longing, dissolving into the fog of day-to-day before he could ensnare her, wolf and doe.

She began to see more of him. Raphael wedged himself into her life in spaces she didn’t know existed, always smouldering with the want she’d stoked, always challenging. Tempting, same as she. Push me a little further, sweet thing, his dark gaze promised, and find out what I’ll do.

As it turned out, steal her away to the Hells where she couldn’t escape him was what he’d do. A snap of his fingers after one nudge too far – really, all she did was blow a kiss, hardly cause for kidnapping – and she was in the House of Hope. Nowhere to escape. To be devoured at last.

“You’ve played with fire without consequence for far too long, little mouse,” the devil purred. Crowded her. They were in his personal chambers, she thought. Subtle. “I think it’s time you got burned.”

“I’m fireproof,” Tav declared, arms crossed.

“Are you now? Hmm…I think we should test that claim, shouldn’t we?” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His touch lingered, the rough pads of his fingertips hot. He was savouring the sensation of her blood risen beneath her skin by her flush, his eyes intense, a little twitch of amusement in his expression. He dragged his thumb across her lower lip, pulled it a little.

“Yes, we should,” Tav breathed. She was entranced by him. Enchanted. She couldn’t help it. He smelled like fire, smoke, cherries. She couldn’t stop looking at his pretty mouth, twisted into a smirk. How the tables had turned.

“How should we test it?”

“Kiss me,” Tav murmured. Raphael chuckled, a deep and raspy sound that gave Tav goosebumps. His glinting, arresting brown eyes became half-lidded with satisfaction.

“Given your recent behaviour, I don’t think you deserve it,” he crooned, petting at her cheeks like she were a sweet pup. He relished in her brief outrage, frustration, but it didn’t last. She was too sly.

“Well, then. I suppose you’ll never know if my claim was true, will you?” She hummed. Looking up at him. Their faces so close their breaths mingled. “And don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy the game. I thought you devils liked a chase. Unless those things you said about preferring it when clients put up a fight was all talk…”

“Impertinent chit,” he growled without venom.

“Got under your skin though, didn’t I?” Tav said smugly.

“Hardly,” Raphael scoffed. Tav’s smile turned a little mean.

“Then it won’t matter to you if, say…I kiss Haarlep instead, will it?”

“You will do no such thing.” This time Raphael’s snarl was sharp. He gripped her jaw tight, his ring and pinky fingers teasing the column of her throat. She gasped as he nuzzled beneath her ear, spoke directly into it. The scratch of his stubble felt so good. “How comfortable you are with me…such a lack of respect. I wonder, what should I do about it…?”

“Fucking kiss me already,” Tav snapped breathlessly. At last, the devil acquiesced – or at least with what he considered a kiss. Even he couldn’t deny their magnetism forever.

He bit at her. Sank his teeth into her plump bottom lip, sucked it into the humid cavern of his mouth to taste the tiny beads of blood he drew. Tav groaned, grabbed fistfuls of his coat. He still held her jaw, controlled the pace of his “kiss”, but Tav was never one to lay down and take it. She bit him right back, licked at his silky thin lips, lingered in their corners to push her gasps behind his teeth and make him feel them in his throat. In his lungs. Their mouths joined in a proper kiss, and this time Tav greedily swallowed Raphael’s throaty grunt. He kissed the same way he bit: hard, consuming, selfish. Tav couldn’t get enough. One hand abandoned its place on his chest and slid up the back of his neck. She sank her fingers into his lush hair, gripped his locks and tugged. He pressed her against the wall, overwhelmed her with the squash of his body. She could tell how he felt about each indulgent pull of his dark roots by the stiffness nudging against her belly, how his hips jerked with every tug. A pleasant squeeze of arousal settled in her gut. So damn good. Eventually they peeled apart, both breathing heavy.

“So,” Tav panted. The tips of their noses brushed. She yanked his hair again just to make him shudder, so she could watch the expansion of his pupils, the pleasure on his face. “Proof enough for you yet?”

The devil’s grin held a fleeting hint of fangs. “Not even close.”

[gucciwins]

ok but now i’m curious about when and how jo call end yn mama for the first time

Golden Sparks Josie is ten. It's been fun revisiting this family 1.3k enjoy!

+

“Do you think Mom or Mumma is better?” Josie asked Harry as he finished braiding her hair. Josie didn’t like Harry doing her hair, but Y/N had an early morning. She didn’t want to wake Jo up early and instead had Harry promise to do his best. 

“Think Mom is normal and common here,” Harry answers, his ten-year-old daughter. 

She furrowed her eyebrows, “don’t think she likes normal.” 

“I’m normal,” Harry defends. 

Josie shrugs in the mirror, “not in my eyes.” 

Harry deflated because he is a dork at heart, but his daughter didn’t need to be so blunt. “You need to be nicer to your old man.” 

Josie laughs loudly in her bathroom. “You’re not old, Dad.” 

He pats her shoulders, gesturing he’s done, and follows her to the kitchen, where he will make her breakfast before her game. Y/N promised to meet her there and was sorry she couldn’t drive her there. Jo assured her it was okay. Y/N hadn’t missed a game and wouldn’t be starting now. 

“Do you think she’ll like that I call her Mum?” Josie asks Harry, returning to their earlier conversation. 

Harry nods, “she’s been in your life for two years. I’d say she fits the role.” 

“Just because she’s with you doesn’t make her my mother.” 

He sighs because he knows where Josie is coming from. After everything she experienced with her mother, he knows why she’s hesitant to call Y/N a name with so much meaning. After all, she had a mom once, and it wasn’t so good. Maybe calling Y/N Mum or Mumma would be another way of Josie to reclaim the word and give them all a new meaning.

“Y/N loves you, Josephine. She’s loved you since you opened up to her when you joined the team. Sometimes, I feel like Y/N knows you better than I do. And you’re my kid,” Harry shares. “She’s engaged to me, but it unites us all as a family when we marry. Even if we don’t share the same last name, the three of us will become one family.” 

“We can take hers,” Josie suggests. 

Harry kisses her head. “We’d have to talk with her about that too.” 

“Do you think she considers me hers–like her child?” 

Harry wishes he had all the answers for Josie, but he doesn’t, though this answer is one he’s confident in. Y/N talks about all of Josie’s accomplishments, sharing them with her family. “I can’t speak to her. I do know that every I love you she’s ever told you is real. She’s lived with us for over a year.” Y/N had been right by Harry’s side for every parent meeting open house and picked up Josie from school most of the time. She was a mother in all ways but one. 

“Didn’t we move in?” Josie corrects him.

“Alright, you smarty pants,” Harry shakes his head. “You can start walking to your game.” 

“Dad,” Josie drags out his name. 

He swings her bag over his shoulder, thankful he had already set the cooler in the car. “Kidding, now off we go. You’re mum,” he teases, is big on punctuality. 

Arriving at the field, Y/N is already there and has the first drill for warm-up set up. There is already a dad talking to her, and Harry’s sure it’s Dana’s dad who’s been chatting her up, even with the engagement ring on her finger. After last week's practice, Harry may have gone a little overboard with the PDA, but the guy can’t take a hint. Thankfully, Josie quickly runs over to her, and the man excuses himself. 

His heart warms seeing his two favorite people, Y/N quick to kiss her cheek and commenting on Josie’s lopsided braids. He tried, but there is no one better than Y/N, that’s for sure. Harry sets his chair close to the girls' bench because while Y/N is focused during the game, he manages to steal a kiss or two during a throw-in or a corner if he’s lucky.

Y/N is now crouched down, tying Josie’s shoes. They’re whispering to each other about something, but Harry doesn’t dare interrupt. Y/N pats Josie’s knees and tells her she’s all good to go. One last hug and his little girl is running onto the field, where the assistant coach stands with a few other girls. The girls always liked terrorizing Kate, wanting to know about her three cats.

“Darling,” Harry sings. “Missed you.” 

Y/N steps into his open arms, laying her head on his chest. “Love you, sorry I had to leave so early.” 

“All forgiven now.” Y/N grins. “Only if I get to pick where we eat?” Harry knows she loves choosing, but he wants today to be special. 

“Mexican?” 

Harry kisses her lips. “You read my mind.” 

“Did Jo seem a bit jittery to you?” Y/N changes the subject. “She’s usually calm before a game.” 

Harry frowns, “did she say anything new to you?”

Y/N shakes her head. 

“Then no, I have no idea.”  

Weird answer Y/N thought, but decided to brush it off. “Alright, love. I’m off.” 

“Hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go,” he whispered. 

“Dork!” Y/N shouted. 

+

The game went well, with Golden Sparks winning 3-1 with Josie giving two assists. Y/N was waving goodbye to her players when he spotted Josie lingering away. Juliet followed Y/N’s every move, still as in awe of her aunt as when Harry first met her. Juliet got called away by Xavier, who was dealing with two toddlers. Y/N kissed her niece goodbye, promising to see her tomorrow for the pool party Y/N was hosting to celebrate the start of summer. 

“Job well done, Jo.” Y/N swings Josie’s bag over her shoulder while Harry takes Y/N’s. She playfully tugs it back but lets it slip when Harry looks sternly at her.

“Are we eating at home?” Jo asks them.

Y/N smiles down at Josie. “Your dad wants Mexican. You alright with that?”

“Perfect. Can I have the keys?” Y/N offers her own, knowing Josie prefers to ride with Y/N after a game. 

Josie hugs her waist tight. “I’m riding with Mum, Dad.” 

Y/N freezes in place as she processes what Josie called her. Harry is right by her side, failing to hold back his grin. 

Josie called her Mom. She heard it clear as day. Josie said it so confidently it was as if she’d been calling her that all her life. 

“Did-did she call me?” She stutters. 

Harry laughs, “you heard her, baby.” 

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears. She tries to hold them back but lets them fall as Harry embraces her. 

She drops the bag on her shoulder, knowing Harry would pick it up, and tells him to make their food order to go. Y/N kisses Harry, muttering against his lips how much she loves him, and then takes off running to her car, eager to see her little girl and see if she’d call her Mom once more. 

Y/N swings open the door on the right side where Josie always sits. She’s singing along to the radio, the AC on blast, and Y/N hugs her. 

“Mumma, what’s going on?” 

“I love you so much, baby. So much. You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me and your dad. Don’t know what I did to deserve someone as amazing as you to choose me as their Mom.” Y/N cries, not able to hide her emotions. 

Jo hugs her tiger, “I love you too, Mum.” 

Y/N wants to live in this moment forever but knows they should get home. “Let’s go home, Jo.”

“Stevie Nicks, Mum?” 

“Perfect choice.”

[whateverisbeautiful]

Hello. Maybe you can help me with your opinion on Richonne's moment from 6.1, when they decide to act against the walkers in the quarry at the meeting. Why do you think they put Michonne and Jessie in Rick's line of sight? Michonne, as it seemed to me, was embarrassed when she begged to help him. And anyway, what kind of game is this?

Hello! It was fun revisiting this premiere episode after receiving your message, so thanks for asking. 😊 It is interesting to see one of the rare times Michonne and Jessie are in a shot together during that meeting. I think the two ladies' placement in the scene is definitely telling with Michonne being the one in front and closer to Rick. I notice how in this scene there are multiple things that make it very clear who Rick is meant to be with and I wrote out the rest of my thoughts below. ⬇️ 💗

I always like the moment when Rick asks who's in and Michonne is the first to volunteer. I didn't interpret it as embarrassment when she voices that she's in. I see Michonne's reaction more conveying that there's not even a doubt in her mind that she would support Rick in this plan so it's almost like "Of course, I'm in."

Another telling moment in that meeting is when Carter is essentially accusing Rick of being untrustworthy after his recent behavior and killing Pete. They show Rick looking over to the side as he hears this, and then they cut to Michonne making eye contact with him as they seem to again be communicating without words, all while Jessie is looking down in the background. It's interesting that despite the conversation being about Jessie's husband, the shot indicates Rick looks not at Jessie but at Michonne, knowing that Michonne is the one who understands him. I like how throughout 6.01 several scenes illustrate how Michonne really is Rick's true partner.

Also while on the Jessie subject - there's a question I'd love to get people's take on.

When Rick is trying to convince Jessie to let him save her and her kids in 5.15, Jessie asks "Would you do this for someone else? Would you do this for anyone?" And I always found that to be an odd question, especially when Rick responds "No" and then him saying no seems to be a comforting thought to Jessie and wins her trust. Why is that?

Like to me it feels strange that she seemingly wants to know that Rick wouldn't try to save any woman in a volatile dv environment. Wouldn't she want to know that this is something Rick would do for anyone in this situation? Why did she want to know Rick wouldn't do this for others?

And the way Rick answers suggesting no he wouldn't be this passionate to help just anyone, it doesn't seem like a confident no when he says it, which makes sense because I think Rick is the type who would try to save any woman being abused. And that should be a good thing about him. But it seems Jessie wanted to know Rick wasn't just doing this out of the goodness of his heart but because he desired her or something. Idk, I might be reading it all wrong but it always feels a bit strange to me, so I'd be curious to hear others' thoughts on that exchange.

[poppy-metal]

oh you’ve convinced me. it hurts more if he never cheated on reader in the failmarriage because what consumes reader is the uncontrollable wanting but feeling guilty. also reader with patrick lore is insaneeee!!! i wanna know what tashi feels about it all - I really enjoy this story

I've put you in my pot so you can feel what im cooking... the ingredients.....

tashi is so fun to think about - she's complex about alot of things, but funnily enough, her thoughts on marriage and sex and love are very simple. you do what makes you feels good, what benefits you most of all. what benefits her - is having everyone she cares about under one roof, in the same space. she understands there's complexity in that. in college, she understood she couldn't just propose you all just fuck eachother - though she definitely thought about it - so she did her best to play a game where you'd all come out as winners. she loves patrick, her and patrick are very in tune with eachother, they have alot of fun - it wasn't hard to marry him. and you and art getting married made sense as well. it was good, maybe when you were all grown adults with more wordly experience, she'd revisit the idea of being intimate with eachother. shes aware of arts feelings for her, aware of her own, her and patrick have talked about it - he's not subtle. her and patrick talk alot of art during - mostly during sex. and then there's you - who tashi is strangely soft towards. tashi has never once held herself back, but she does around you, because you're a sensitive thing. her showing mutual interest in art would break you - and she doesn't want that. because she loves you. perhaps even more than art and patrick. its a tender kind of love. sweet. she wants you, but she knows being too forward about that would make you shrink away. so she bides her time. they dont talk about you during sex, her and patrick, but they both think about you - she knows it. can tell by the way patrick will be looking at you one day, at the way your dress flutters up your thighs in the hot summer sun, and she'll know when patrick bends her over later and slides inside her thick and hot - he's imagining its your cunt hes sinking into - she doesn't mind. not when an image of you in your little panties she'd seen you in when you went shopping together, and she'd seen you in the changing room, that glimpse of pink fabric - its that image she thinks of when she cums.

but then you dont show up to her and patricks wedding. and you have her blocked - both her and patrick - on all accounts. and when she asks art about it he shrugs uncomfortably and mumbles some excuse for you, like you're just busy or you're going through something and tashi feels angry. for awhile she thinks of stealing art away, of just kissing him - just to get a rise out of you. but then she thinks of how much that would hurt you, and she doesn't. she stays perfectly platonic with art and shovels the pain of her ejection from your life deep down. she tries to nudge art gently into being more open with you, reaching out to you through him, but you never reach out.

when the separation happens and art moves in with her and patrick - she's a little annoyed by the whole thing. its just so meaningless, this fight, in her eyes. she can see you're miserable- from the burner accounts she uses to stalk you. your game isn't familiar to her - but alright, she's willing to play it. she wont hold back with art anymore. she'll break the unspoken truce you two had where she wont impose on you and come into your space - because you're obviously playing a long game of tennis here. she feels better when she realizes that. alot calmer. it always comes back to tennis.

and tashi dominates the court.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

When I revisit the fight Killer and Ink+Cross comic Rahafwabas made and see how Killer single handedly punched Ink to the ground in a swift move. This made me wonder if Killer holds in most of his strength in battles for it to become more interesting. (like when Killer uses his bone attacks, it doesn't send a strong force into the air basically minimizing his attack) Killer might have targeted Ink intentionally, knowing Inks powerful because of his role of protecting the AU's. Completely ignore Cross's existence altogether, only using a weak attack by throwing bones at Cross upon noticing Cross's eye glow red, anticipating Cross would attack at that moment. Perhaps perceiving Cross as pathetic, likely due to Cross being a relatively new sans at the time, lacking detailed knowledge about him.

It made me think that Killer's more physically stronger with his fists instead of his magic and would target the ones he views as stronger before going for the weaker threats.

Thank you for sending this ask anon I was actually drafting up something similar last night but I’ll just say it here.

I think people underplay killer’s skill and strength far too often. This is guy that single-handedly took all three of the Stars by himself canonically without a single injury or pause, man was bored out of his mind, and all he wanted was for dream to give him a better fight. anything.

and all of that was just a ploy by nightmare. a deliberate choice because he wanted to show dream how easily he could have him killed before he called off his attack dog. killer is literally a killing machine. imagine bro with cross’ Royal guard training.

I honestly imagine that killer is completely capable of doing shit like punching straight through walls and yanking his next victim straight through. I can perfectly see him pulling a Winter Soldier move and doing this shit, pulling bro right out the window and tossing him into traffic before punching straight through the roof and yanking out the steering wheel.

He definitely does that shit and also punches straight through people’s chests and crushes souls and hearts with his bare hands in Stage 4.

I imagine the only reason he restrains himself in Stage 2 is because it’s not that fun. He doesn’t waste his time with those he finds weak or boring—often just resorting to using his Gaster Blaster if he just wants to get it over with or (in the case of Killer vs Swap), he is breaking down and switching into Stage 1.

I’m not surprised at all if he first identifies the strongest opponent—the one who could be a challenge—and targets them first. Not only because it’s logical, but because it’s fun.

Literally fighting to near death is more like a game for Stage 2. It’s fun and it’s exhilarating. I’d imagine he’s been waiting quite awhile for someone who could be an actual challenge to his strength and abilities, and is willing to hold himself back and prolong a fight if that means it’ll be more entertaining.

Of course this comes with the flaw that he tends not to take the fight or his opponents too seriously. Most aren’t any genuine threat to him, especially if he can still Save, Load, and Reset while out in the rest of the Multiverse.

There’s a reason Nightmare only really needs Killer to get shit done. He is literally a killing machine, and his mind is just as sharp and lethal. (Which is why I personally like to hc that Dust and Horror’s additions were more for Killer than for Nightmare, although the big boss certainly has to gain some use out of them.)

His Determination means he’s not going to quit a fight until one of them is dead (and maybe not even then if he can still Reset) or until he’s called off. This is the guy that canonically had an arm cut off once, barely had any visible reaction (buddy is dissociated asf bruh), and claimed to be “absolutely fine” when questioned if he was okay by Nightmare.

I’d imagine one reason why Stage 4 is so dangerous for Killer himself and likely leaves him extremely disoriented and exhausted after is because Stage 4 does not have Stage 2’s logical reasonings or restraint and cannot be called off.

Stage 4 will likely be so Determined to kill anyone and anything nearby that’d it’d completely tear the body to shreds and run it into the ground to complete the task.

Stage 4 is fighting to kill. Stage 2 is fighting for entertainment, and to entertain.

[presiding]

I'm not a new follower and I've been here long enough but i do have a relatively bad memory

So I've wanted to ask, what's your opinion on "Dishonored: death of the outsider"?

Right now I'm replaying Dishonored games not in the release order, i already finished DH2 and started Daud dlcs. Maybe I'll go for vanilla DH later

But thoughts about going through death of the outsider again makes me feel something that i can't explain... 😬

It has some interesting ideas but antagonists are underused. Locations repeat a lot. And Billie herself deserved SO much better than whatever is going on with her character

I'm genuinely debating if i should revisit *this* one or pretend that DH2 is the last game. I know that some people love DOTO but i can't find strength in me

love to chat about death of the outsider, ty for the ask!

i feel your pain. it's the one game i struggle to revisit. but! i was thinking about your points and how DotO has the feel of budget cuts.

it's been about a year since my last DotO post - so, essay time -

a measured response to common DotO criticisms

(the thousand bugs of dishonored 2 I had borne as I best could, but when doto ventured upon sidelining billie and retconning daud's arc I vowed revenge*

*can't resist a cask of amontillado joke

criticism is easy and creation is hard, so, if this isn't the type of response you wanted, you can read my other DotO posts:

how i'd write death of the outsider

that post i did after trying to play doto a third time and couldn't make it past the opening scene (you might like my tags on this re: your comment "makes me feel something i can't explain")

billie lurk as a nonprotagonist & misogynoir (more on this below...)

gonna leapfrog off your comments cause I agree!

antagonists are underused/locations repeat a lot.

who is steering the boat?

let's start up at the top; everything stems from there.

DotO was caught up in ownership/transition issues. here's an article about harvey smith and raphael colantanio at that time. if you didnt know, colantonio is the main founder of arkane (semi-related but just for fun look his appearance up then go through arkane's protags and tell me what you notice...).

quote from harvey smith re: DotO -

“Then, just as I move back, [Colantonio is] announcing that he’s leaving. Going forward, I’ll focus more and more on the Austin studio and what we’re going to do there. Death of the Outsider is my wrapping up with the guys in Lyon – the first half of that we planned together while I was living there, but the second half was worked on while I was living in Austin. I’ve been communicating with them through video conferences and stuff, so they carry a lot of the load of the second half of it.”

so the founder jumped ship and the co-creative director has to step away from his usual position (over to sinking ship Austin). meanwhile, DotO is still in development. i'm a big believer in people making art, and not companies (even in this article Smith acknowledges much of their "secret sauce" can be traceable to specific devs but i digress)

$$$ kaching - some speculation

on the note of founders - past this point in arkane's history (ie. the main founder stepping back), arkane would have been being primed for sale. this translates to high scrutiny on project expenditure (such as hiring cheaper early career staff, hiring less workers, denying your best staff raises causing them to leave and hiring cheaper workers in their place, etc) to make the company's EBITDA look more appealing to buyers (briefly, its the piece of paper that proves you're profitable). based on speculative timelines, from a purely $ perspective within the first year of dh2 being released is when you'd be looking to slim down your capitalised expenditure (aka: cutting staff while the revenue is at a peak to make number go brr and make your company look like a better investment) because to maximise the profit of a company's sale, you really have a great track record for a few years.

this is purely speculation based on timelines. companies are very careful to hide when they're doing this, ideally they want ~3 years of a great track record (and staff that will keep working their hardest).

big goals and no money

DotO was meant to be a two-part DLC like the Dh1 DLCs, so shout out to what could have been made if their original pitch had worked.

On locations & antagonists & budget - this dev's site discusses the Conservatory level in game AND specifies it was budget constraints being the reason for cutting off traversable area from that mission. Great link for comparing the original level & the DotO version, especially re: your point about reused assets/levels.

We could pick other examples here but this post is already long so -

Billie herself deserved SO much better than whatever is going on with her character

i would forgive this game anything if there was any good billie storywriting.

:')

its never just the writers

after revisiting articles to fact-check for this essay, i've seen a lot of articles blaming writers by name (you didn't do this anon which i love <3)

games are made by teams, and decision making is generally done top-down, so blaming individual contributors is shit. 1) writer's pay isn't good enough to cop this kind of abuse. 2) it's rarely in their control - you can write a beautiful scene only to have that level cut due to costs (etc), and then you need to work out how to make the story make sense. ideation & decision-making are separate and i guess 'this idea was [X]'s' should not be mistaken for 'this is the fault of [X]'s.'

on hiring fans (& imm-sim writing strategies)

the new writers [...] already had an idea of the world, as they’d seen it from the outside, as fans. “These are all people that knew this world we had created and they took it as canonical, as the gospel. Whereas, for us, it was bits and pieces we’d made up along the way.”

as someone who used to hire writers, and i promise this isn't in bad faith: don't hire fans unless your priority is cost then, sure, fans are likely to put in overtime (and not be in a position in their career where they can ask for higher remuneration - they'll pay the passion tax to be involved).

writers (esp new career writers) have to be open to receiving feedback assuming healthy/functional processes, and being a fan makes that harder because you care more. and, as a fan, you know what loose ends exist and that's where you'll naturally jump to, even though writers should start with target audience and branding, and build from there. if i expand on this i'll get offtopic so let's keep going!

DotO feels lifeless because it doesn't add anything to the DH universe, it only takes away by closing storylines without the satisfaction of closure. sure, stuff was added - the cult subplot, locations, some NPCs/enemies, etc. but they feel like part of the objectives, not part of the dishonored universe. you can feel the decision-making process when you play: there's a feeling that the priority was to finish the assets required for missions, instead of writing a story that feels immersive.

compared to standard videogame writing, where you can generally get away with "everything you touch and read relates to your objectives as the protagonist", as an imm-sim writer, you need to focus on:

how does this text build the universe so that the player feels like they're only seeing a small part of the world?

of course - this is difficult with budget/time concerns. i've said it before but this is part of why we rarely have games as rich as dishonored 1 & 2, because imm-sim design philosophy flies against the current videogame industry trends of microtransactions & cheap-to-make addictive mobile games. given a tight budget you focus on the high level story, but player immersion is a function of details.

most likely, dh2 was the end of an era. typing that out makes me sad.

what did the devs say about writing billie

*breathes deeply*

the death of the outsider protag was originally pitched as being about a regular human, someone not related to emily and corvo but instead an overseer or a brigmore witch. daud was also pitched.

this could have worked! really cool to have a nobody, or a heretic, or an overseer, be involved with the death of a god. and i've mentioned before that storywise DotO's protag could have been anyone (i think i made a joke about wyman? hah) and wouldn't change the story much, bar some daud bits.

quote from the same article:

eventually Arkane settled on Billie Lurk, Emily's companion from Dishonored 2. [...] Bakaba tells me that because Billie had already received her redemption arc in Dishonored 2, Death Of The Outsider's story could be about something more than that.

welp.

so there's two things here - a redemption arc claim, and DotO's actual story.

in addition to not being the first pick, the view was that billie's story was over. i question the 'redemption arc' claim - sure, billie helps the protag in dh2 but after her confession, if you tell her she's changed, she brushes it off and you part awkwardly without forgiving her... does that count? if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it does it make a sound? if a character redeems themselves but the story never tells you, are they redeemed?

billie's role in dh2 isn't really that different to the dlcs, where she follows you around being Mr Exposition while withholding a LOT of information that could have actually helped the protag. given DotO's plot, going after the killer who shaped her doesn't scream 'reformed' either. ludonarratively speaking, the lack of chaos implies billie never changed from being a callous killer - which i'm not against, it would have been a cool story.

and! contrast this with daud who already had his redemption arc!

When first conceptualising Death Of The Outsider in around 2014, Smith and Duval knew they wanted two things: Billie Lurk being used to get to The Outsider himself, and closure for Dishonored villain (and later ally) Daud.

in the two DLCs, as we know, he comes to realise his actions sucked, and as the player you actively make things right (related: my post about ludonarrative dissonance in dh2). so if billie had "already received her redemption arc", why was this another daud story?

imo this isn't a budget issue but a misogynoir issue. "we want this story to be not about the protagonist so any random NPC will do, how about we go with billie lurk and get a black woman as a dishonored protag?" this logic, which is what i'm reading of the above two quotes, feels frustratingly tokenistic when she's an established character with a rich background. it's an example of surface level diversity because DotO is not about her by arkane's own admission. it's a similar vibe to the companies who say they have a diverse team but you check their staff page and all the people of colour have 'assistant' in their title and the board is all white, so it's not people of colour who are driving the business. maybe this was entirely by accident but these accidents add up to systematic failure - billie gets her own game but never her own story. it feels like she got assigned the caretaker role for these two guys. great.

for fairness, let's compare to dh2. corvo & emily are relatively hands-off protags in terms of their ongoing thoughts about their surroundings and the lore placement about them specifically is sparse, and this style continues in DotO. the issue is the core narrative: corvo & emily are both the protagonists of their story in the sense that dh2's story reflects their goals ("take back what's yours"), whereas Billie is an established character who has arguably little reason to go along with each mission. worse, the main plotline she's literally forced into going along with. in the opening scene billie gets assaulted and still helps the guy who assaulted her.

fundamentally, DotO's narrative is not about billie but about daud and the outsider, and this article makes clear that was by design.

whats the takeaway

DotO is the weakest entry in the Dishonored series for most people, and blaming budget & a corporate changeover makes me feel... uh well it doesn't really help me tbh but your mileage may vary. it does interest me to think about what we could have had!

for me, my opinion is that if writing billie was a priority (link to my own post where i describe the feeling of playing doto as someone interested in billie) arkane would have made it a priority, even amidst constraints. billie's redemption arc was not resolved imo, and putting her in a game without a chaos system feels like as much a backwards slide for her as daud's plotline to kill the outsider was for his arc.

we absolutely 🤝 on not being in a rush to play the game again.

on the upside. dishonored 2 is a really wonderful game and i love it very much.

[btsgotjams27]

this is us - ksj

✨ title: this is us - an alternate timeline

✨ pairing: jin x f!reader

✨ word count: 1.1k | ✨ rating: pg-13

✨ genre/au: fluff, romance ✨ warnings: kiss

✨ a/n: hi everyone! it’s been a while since i’ve revisited this story, and who else could give me inspiration atm besides jin (hehe). so this takes places two years after oc + jk’s breakup. just wanted to dabble in things that could’ve happened if oc didn’t go to LA! i’m also throwing around ideas for yoongi too, so be on the lookout for it. enjoy my friends.

“Who would've thought? Our best friends becoming best friends?” Yuna says before darting off to tuck Indie in bed.

You and Jin give each other a look before laughing off her words.

Two years ago, you wouldn't have dreamed of being close friends with Jin, but losing the love of your life pushes you closer to others when you need it most.

After Jungkook left, Jin kept a close eye on you, inviting you to hang out for game nights or when he wanted to try out a new recipe, you were a casualty to his delicious food. 

He’s always made an effort to make you laugh and keep things light, and it's something you've been missing for a long time. Being with Jin is easy because he doesn't expect anything of you. Let's you be, but is always there to pick you right back up if you go astray.

“I can't believe another year has passed by already. How do we make time stop?” You ask, picking up an empty champagne flute, bringing it into the kitchen.

“Hm, maybe I can come up with an invention that'll keep me looking Worldwide Handsome forever. Whattya think?” Jin purses his lips and raises a brow.

“I don't think you'll never not be Worldwide Handsome. We'll just need an invention to keep me from becoming an old lady,” you chuckle, rubbing your hand. The numbing sensation in your nerves hasn't gone away. You blame the endless amount of sitting in front of your laptop, trying to write the next episode of your new show.

Jin puts down a party hat, taking your hand in his. He rubs the palm of your hand, trying to soothe the pain. “Still numb?”

You hiss when he hits a certain spot, trying to pull away, but he doesn't let you. “Yeah, only when you're around and stress me out.”

“To be fair, I’m only around because I don’t want your death on my hands. Can’t have you go dying on me. I’d never hear the end of it from Yuna,” he says.

Your eyes fall on his thumb softly circling the palm of your hand. Heart’s racing, pulsating harder than normal. His brows are furrowed, concentrated on removing the numbing that’s causing your current pain.

“Does it feel better?” he asks, eyes flicking to yours then back at your hand.

Yeah, it does. It feels better when Jin’s around, tending to you, but you also feel guilty because he’s always worried about you. Who worries about him?

“Egg Puff—hello—are you listening?”

You huff when you hear him calling you egg puff. “Can you please call me anything but ‘egg puff’? I hate that nickname. But yeah, it’s feeling better now,” you answer, removing your hand from his grasp.

Jin laughs. “Not my fault all you eat are egg puffs, and by the way, you’re welcome for making you feel better.”

You point your finger at the handsome man. “Egg puff waffles are delicious and I’m helping the sweet woman by bringing her business.”

“Every day though? That’s a lot of carbs.”

“You’re one to talk with all the….the…” What the hell has he been eating everyday? “With all the jajangmeyon you’ve been scarfing down!”

“Aye—stop with all this bickering and just kiss already,” Taehyung says, creeping up behind you with Hyunie trailing behind.

You roll your eyes at your friend’s husband. You love Taehyung, you do, but sometimes he deserves a good strangle.

“It’s almost midnight!” Hyunie squeals along with light claps. “Who are you gonna kiss?”

You stare blankly at your friend. Kissing on New Years is such a dumb tradition. “No one—like I have been doing for the past two years. This year isn’t going to change,” you reply.

“Ugh—you’re no fun! Come on,” Hyunie comments, then leans in to whisper, “It’s just a measly kiss. Besides, sometimes you have to kiss your friends just to relieve all that sexual tension—make sure it really does mean nothing.”

It's just a kiss, right? You're friends with Jin, that's all. It’s a meaningless kiss on New Year's.

Jin gives you a look and shrugs. “It’s up to you.”

“Promise you won't fall in love with me?” You ask.

Jin snorts. “Can't make any promises.”

You gasp, smacking his chest. “Okay, yeah, no kissing.”

“You'll get bad luck for five years if you don't,” Hyunie yells toward you.

“Yeah! It happened to me once,” Taehyung affirms.

You roll your eyes at the two insane lovebirds. Know they're lying just so the two of you will kiss. “Well, I already have bad luck. What's five more?”

“Just say you're a bad kisser and I'll find someone else to kiss before the New Year. I don't want bad luck.”

“I'm not a bad kisser!”

Jin shrugs. “Guess I'll never know.”

“Kiss him. Kiss him,” both Hyunie and Tae begin taunting the pair of you.

You huff, looking up at the handsome man. “If you use tongue, I will cut it off!”

Jin raises his hands up in defense. “No tongue. I promise. I don't do that until the 5th date or so,” he teases.

“This kiss means nothing. Just lips on lips!”

“Damn, you're kinda harsh. Kinda don't wanna kiss you now.”

The hushed crowd that's still around begins to countdown.

“Now I gotta find someone else to kiss before I get bad luck!” Jin exclaims, looking around to see who’s free.

“You know they're just lies, right?”

“Easy for you to say! You already have bad luck. I don't want it.”

Six, five, four….

“Why are you so easily swayed by Hyunie and Tae anyway?”

“I'm not! I don't understand why you just won't kiss me. It's just a dumb kiss.”

Three, two….

“Friends just can't go around kissing friends. That's now how it works!”

One…

And before you know it, Jin's pillowy lips are on yours.

Everyone's cheering with greetings of Happy New Year, but you're only focused on his fresh, clean scent invading your space. His lips capture yours once again before he slowly pulls away. Eyes are still closed. Noses brushing against each other. His breath is still warm.

You're lingering far too long. Not wanting to let the moment go.

It's just a dumb kiss, you remind yourself.

Kim Seokjin is nothing more than a friend. Someone who has seen the ins and outs of your happiness and heartbreak. Someone who has kept you smiling and laughing for the last two years. Someone who expects nothing but for you to be yourself. There's no judgment from him, far from it. 

But you have to admit, what if he was your date for Yuna’s wedding? What if you had gone out with him instead? You'll never know the outcome if that timeline continued instead of the one you journeyed through with Jungkook, so you shouldn't toy with those ideas. 

“You're not falling in love with me, are you?” Jin breaks the lingering moment between you. 

“In your dreams.”

[adastraperfortuna]

Tears of the Kingdom; or, The Sequel to Breath of the Wild

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild is one of the most focused and restrained AAA games that I've ever played. After Skyward Sword and Twilight Princess, two games that pushed the long-standing franchise formula to its breaking point, Hidemaro Fujibiyashi and his team set out to build a new Zelda identity from the ground up. With a clean slate, every feature that they added built towards the game's central themes - the majesty of nature, player freedom, and systemic play. If something wouldn't contribute to that, it often didn't end up in the game at all, leading to a lot of players complaining about Breath being threadbare, quiet, and streamlined.

I say all of that because its sequel, Tears of the Kingdom, is most decidedly none of those things. Tears is a game defined by its maximalism, taking more or less everything from Breath and tacking stuff onto it for six years. Where Breath had one map, Tears has three, and they did their absolute best to fill every square inch of the new and returning playable space to the brim with characters, quests, systems, caves, dungeons, easter eggs, and collectables. Tears is a game with seven currencies that you can trade in at five types of vendor for various rewards, and that's excluding the new upgrade systems for the new abilities that you can get from completing the new temples.

When I say that it took more or less everything from Breath of the Wild, though, I did mean it. While ostensibly a sequel, Tears functions as something much closer to a remake or reimagining in practice. The overall story structure is almost identical, down to the minutiae of which characters inherit which responsibilities from which champions/sages. The memory system for storytelling is retained, much to the detriment of the now-linear story that it's conveying. You're going to be revisiting the same towns, doing similar shrines to unlock similarly-adjacent waypoints, and restoring things to the status quo by the time you say your goodbyes.

I'm really not sure that those two goals - massively expanding a game while also being slavishly devoted to recreating it - can coexist.

Breath of the Wild wasn't an accident, and while there are things in Tears that I would port back to its predecessor if given the opportunity, taking a game defined by its minimalism and grafting three new games' worth of capital-c Content onto it is going to fundamentally change the nature of the beast. By giving the player all of these new abilities (primarily Ultrahand - check out Postscript 1), we're left with a game with even fewer true puzzles and navigational challenges than Breath, requiring the audience to play along and role-play as someone with fewer tools in their belt than they do to have fun. The looser, more character-focused storytelling that Breath used allowed the memory system to flourish with each scene comfortably making sense on its own, and with Tears's pivot to a more traditional plot it becomes possible for the player to ruin a reveal for themselves simply through bad luck.

More than that, though, Tears effectively completely eliminated Breath's exploration loop without anything waiting in the wings as a replacement. With vehicles and man-cannon towers that can take you more or less anywhere on the map, traversal has been turned into selecting a point and more or less airdropping directly to it. Maybe that was a necessary change - you can't explore the same map twice, after all. Unfortunately, with the new additions, caves and wells, only being visible from up-close (in comparison to the bright and beaconesque shrines and towers from Breath), exploration in Tears asks you to do more than exactly that, combing the map and checking every crevice and crevasse in a way that Breath only rewarded with Korok seeds and ambiance.

I'm leading with all of this negativity because this is what I was left stewing in after I gave up Tears of the Kingdom two dungeons in and a few weeks after its launch last year. For about six months, give or take a few twenty-minute play sessions to see if I was feeling it yet, I simply couldn't believe that this is what Nintendo had released as their sequel to my favorite game of all time. I was frustrated, disappointed, and hyper-critical. I enjoyed a lot about Tears, but the problems were so fresh and my expectations were so high that the flaws were all I could feel. I spent a lot of time hashing out how I felt online (see Postscript 2), and it well and truly astonished me to see how few people could sympathize. Were we even playing the same game?

As my return to Tears of the Kingdom a few weeks ago suggested, maybe we weren't.

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom is one of the most systemically generous and aesthetically luxurious AAA games that I've ever played. After Breath of the Wild, a game that felt in many ways like a blank slate for the future of a legendary franchise, Hidemaro Fujibiyashi and his team set out to rediscover and reintegrate the Zelda identity of old into this new format. With a great foundation, every feature they added could bring something new and unique to the table, providing such a wealth of options and experiences that no two players would've truly played the same game. And once I opened myself up to that, picking and choosing which parts of the game I wanted to play more judiciously and holding back from "optimal" play in lieu of finding the fun, the game blossomed for me in a million dazzling ways.

The scripted, authored material in Tears is some of the best work that a Zelda team has ever done, full stop. There are more quests that are more engaging than any of their equivalents in Breath, with every town now brimming with unique activities and fun overarching progressions both in and outside of the main quest line. So-called "Side Adventures" have you fighting off groups of monsters with roaming squadrons of soldiers, rebuilding towns, plunging into the darkest corners of the Depths in search of enemies from past games, and solving map-spanning puzzles in search of ancient wisdom. You can't throw a rock twelve feet in Hyrule without hitting an NPC with a minigame on deck, it seems, and almost all of them are a blast. Characters from Breath are given new life as leads in game-long side quests covering anything from construction to journalism, and the modes of gameplay that you're asked to engage with are diverse and fun, recontextualizing existing spaces in interesting ways.

Of course, the side material wasn't what drew me to the prior Zelda games (with the exception of Majora's Mask), and the main quest represents a bafflingly large step up from Breath of the Wild's. Each of the dungeon approach sequences is hours-long and absolutely jam-packed with memorable moments, providing a linear, focused progression that'll have you solving riddles, probing caves, and diving into storm heads. The dungeons themselves, while functionally similar to Breath's Divine Beasts, feel at once more unique and closer to the series's past by building out their own aesthetics. The bosses are more visually diverse and tactically demanding, and when you beat them you're rewarded with a fundamental shift to the area you're saving (with the exception of the Goron village, a part of the game that disappointed me enough to stop me playing for half a year). Even the approaches to the towns are reinvigorated, with interesting additions like an expanded extreme climate zone around the Gerudo Desert providing the kind of focused navigation challenges that only the Zora portion of Breath provided.

And this is all referring to the first dungeons you encounter, the stretch of the game that mirrors Breath so thoroughly that I genuinely found it concerning on my first go at it. What happens afterwards, from the "reveal" at Hyrule Castle to the moments that credits roll, is maybe my favorite sequence in Zelda history. It's deliriously smart, using the scope of the game's systems to deliver a part of the journey that feels epic, personal, global, and threatening. Their newfound freedom to create bespoke moments pays off in a finale so explosive that it's hard to believe it came from the studio that gave us Breath's Dark Beast Ganon fight, with everything from that last leap into the darkness on absolutely dripping with verve. And, my God, that last button prompt.

This is all accompanied, of course, by the best thing that a game could take from Breath of the Wild: its audiovisual presentation. While the primary overworld looks more or less like you'll remember it, the addition of the sky and Depths lets the team expand their palette to match. The sky reaches truly profound, sublime levels of beauty, while the Depths gets just about as close to horror as Zelda can handle - those two endpoints giving us something to fear and something to fight for, which in turn elevates the storytelling. The soundtrack pulls from a million influences to give us something new, but it isn't afraid to pull those old Zelda heartstrings when the time is right. One particular theme incorporation during a post-Spirit Temple cutscene had me hooting and hollering.

I do apologize if these last few paragraphs have felt closer to an exaltation than something meaningful and insightful - the best parts of this game just sort of did that to me. While Tears has problems, and I think they're worth examining, it also has a structure that lends itself to simply ignoring what you dislike and pursuing what you do. It took me approaching it from a completely different and unnatural angle to see that, though, and I'm hoping that the next Zelda is able to provide both the focus and bombast that only one of the last two excelled in. With this next blank slate, with this next fresh start - with a new map, a new style, and new ambitions - maybe they can combine the best of both worlds.

After Tears of the Kingdom came out, I found myself asking how my favorite game development team lost the magic touch and what it would take for me to get excited about their next project. The answer to that is in two parts: they didn't, and I already am.

Postscript 1: Ultrahand

Ultrahand doesn't have a place in the Zelda series. While it gives the player a lot of options, and I understand the fun that a lot of people had with it, it simultaneously breaks too many challenges and fails to introduce many more. The most interesting questions you can ask with Ultrahand are "how do you move this object" and "how do you climb over this thing", with the answer to both almost universally being "make something that can fly." While Ultrahand as-is is a technical marvel, you need to wilfully ignore most of its abilities if you want to have any fun with half of the game's puzzles, let alone traversal. It "fits" with Tears's everything-and-the-kitchen-sink vibe, but I had way more fun with the game when I refused to use it unless absolutely necessary, and I truly don't want to see it again.

Postscript 2: Apologies

In the half-year period where I was perpetually bummed about Tears of the Kingdom I let my disdain for it become a staple of my online personality. It dominated any conversation about the game that I joined, and I have the reasonable suspicion that I ruined at least a few good conversations with needless shit-flinging. To those of you that got hit by that: I apologize. The game kind of rules, actually. I was right about some things, wrong about others, but my face turn on this has well and truly wasted a lot of people's time. The least I could've done is waited until I beat it. I can't wait to intellectually learn this lesson and then never put it into practice. Oh, well.

Postscript 3: Cohost

This post is adapted from a post I made on my Cohost blog earlier this year. I will miss Cohost dearly, even if I wasn't tremendously active there.

[chameleoncharm]

Aug 2024 News!

Hello hello! Meant to get this up a bit sooner, but had some family things come up and I've been down with Covid the last bit of time. If you're a paid member, this will sound like a repeat of things I said a little earlier this month, but please bear with me, as I try and get everyone caught up with my plans. First off, major apologies again for falling off the face of the Earth the last... bit of time. Life has been hectic, but in between the crazy, I've managed to catch a few moments to come up with game plans for the comic. I won't go over everything right now, but just cover the up and coming things on the docket. The biggest thing to note coming up in the next month though is the relaunch of the comic.

I've been putting together a new home for Chameleon Charm over on ComicFury. You can actually view it here: https://chameleoncharm.thecomicseries.com/

There's no pages up yet and the extra pages - like the Cast and Fan Art pages and the like - aren't fully functional yet. I'm not actually very good at coding, or rather no good at all, cause I know nothing about code, so it's been a struggle getting the page to look the way I want it. It looks pretty good now though, so hopefully nothing breaks going forward, hahah. If it does, it because of my spaghetti coding and I apologize. Anyway, the plan is that starting Sept 18 - the comic's 12th year anniversary - I will be re-releasing the comic over on the new ComicFury page. I hope to get my custom domain to point to the ComicFury soon, though the Tumblr will remain up, for archival reasons/purposes. What I mean by a re-release is that I will be trickling out all the past pages over the next bit of time; all five chapters. There will be minor differences, as I'm doing some editing on the pages to readability and consistency, will some minor art edits.

The release schedule will be Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday and once I get everything posted, will revert to the Tuesday and Friday release schedule I had back in the old days when I was hosted on Cup of Comics.

With what I have in terms of page count, for Chapters 1-5, it should neatly gets us to September of 2025, where then, I will finally start getting into Chapter 6, for real. I know that's still a long time, but this way, I have a built in buffer and time frame in which to work. Since I've gone on hiatus because of life and writer's block, I had not solid time frame in which to get back on the horse, so I'm setting one with the relaunch. So, short form, the plan is this: - Starting Sept 18, 2024, I will release Chapters 1-5 on the new ComicFury webpage, with a "new" page released on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays - By Sept 18, 2025, I should have things all set to roll smoothly into the long awaited Chapter 6

I've alluded to this before, but really, the time to think things through as really actually helped when it's come to story developments. Handing things on a page-by-page basis really wasn't a good idea, but hey, when I started the comic, I was young, dumb, and stupid and didn't know better. I'm older now so like to think I've learned some kind of lesson, lol. Anyway, the rest of the month is dedicated to the aforementioned edits so I can get pages queued up. I hope you'll enjoy revisiting the series through this relaunch and maybe have fun playing a game of Find the Difference on what I change. Again, they won't be big changes, but you know; for those people who like to keep track of such things (one reason why the Tumblr will remain). All I ask (aside from beseeching more of your continued patience and support, which I am eternally grateful for) is for you guys to help spread the word of the comic's release. I'll be putting up posts on the social media pages whenever a page goes live on the ComicFury (see here for all the official Chameleon Charm social media pages) and if you could like and share them around to get the comic in front of fresh, new eyes, that would be extremely helpful. But that's all for me for right now! I'll check in with everyone next month when the relaunch finally happens and to celebrate the 12th Year Anniversary. I'm sorry again for the absence, but I hope the stuff I have planned for the future will be worth it. I've been doing a lot in terms of world building and story development and I can't wait to share it all with you. Thank you again for your continued patience and support. For advanced news and behind the scenes, consider joining the Patreon! Take care now! - Fil

[hyunverse]

hi my love! i’ve slowly been getting into skz fics so i’ve been watching you from afar for a little while now and reading your amazing fics (i have so many in my liked posts, waiting to be read - i promise i’ll get to them soon 🙏)

i just wanted to say congrats on 5k and i was hoping i could join your event !! it’s such an adorable idea and sounds like so much fun hehe <33

my ideal date is something unplanned, romantic, and childish. i’d love to go to an arcade and play all the games and lose track of time and later maybe we could go out for ice cream on a late night drive with no destination in mind or we could stop at the beach and it’d be cold so he’d give me his jacket while we walk around and talk about everything and nothing under the stars 🤭

sorry for being a hopeless romantic anyway, just wanted to say i love your fics and i look forward to getting through your masterlist eventually <33

— the cupid's heard your wish, your match is yang jeongin .ᐟ

note: ahhh you're so sweet and kind ^.^ thank you so much for the kind words, do take your time to read them!! i hope you'll like them, and that you'll like this <3

playlist...

back to the old house by the smiths ・ because you're pretty by giriboy ・ 18 by one direction ・ bad by wave to earth ・ 10,000 hours by prettymuch ・ dance, baby by boy pablo ・ every summertime by niki

trope...

boy next door trope!! jeongin's the boy next door you've had your eyes on throughout your teenage years. one day you become friends with one of his brothers and with his help you manage to get closer to jeongin. i feel like he gives off such boy next door vibes tbh.

headcanons...

dating jeongin = spontaneous dates. all the time!! if he has time after practise you'll get a call and he'll ask you to dress up and takes you out on a spontaneous date.

due to his tendeancy of having impromptu dates, i think you'll end up discovering a lot of secret spots together. a beautiful pond that overlooks the city, a hidden gem of a cafe in the corners of the city, and instagrammable spots. you name it!! jeongin keeps track of these places to revisit with you.

loooots of time spent in arcades. he gets competitive!!! always either trying to beat you in a game or trying to win you a plushie. either way, you're pretty sure he's used up a lot of his money in arcades.

your instagram game will 100% be upgraded. seriously. jeongin would take so many pictures of you and insist for you to post them because he's so proud to have you <3 occasionally, you'll wake up to see a candid photo of you posted in his instagram story.

losing track of time while hanging out with jeongin is so easy. he's just so comfortable to be around with. some nights, you get to stargaze with him in a field as you lay on his lap and he plays with your hair <3

[bethanydelleman]

I was thinking about your Edmund vs. Frank poll and it made me revisit Frank's arc. I'll go straight to it - this guy exhibits massive red flag behavior at times.

The worst of it was the box hill episode. The day before, Jane had refused to walk with him (for very reasonable reasons though I'm sure she was also acting more out of frustration at Frank than any actual caution there). He outrageously flirts with Emma the next day in Jane's full view knowing she dislikes it. It's obvious he's doing it for revenge - to hurt Jane or get a reaction out of her. He brings up marriage completely out of the blue, brings up their engagement and makes a veiled threat to break up with her, and - this is what I can never forgive him for - he makes the comment about women in their "own set" which I'm sure is a dig at Jane's family's poverty. (please correct me if I'm wrong). And when Jane says something along the lines of "maybe we should break up" he loses it again and makes a dig at Jane's appearance and personality this time - asking Emma to find him a wife who is "lively, with hazle eyes", the opposite of Jane basically. And he wanted JANE to apologize to him after that.

Now the whole thing is very delightful to read as a reader. We can very easily see through Frank and his actions as those of a spoiled brat who has never been denied anything in life; with very little emotional regulation or control over his reactions. But imagine how horrible the whole thing must be from Jane's perspective - to be insulted like that by someone you love and plan to marry.

Frank's greatest redeeming quality is that he loves Jane. He really does love her, there is no denying that. But you can still be horrible to people you love. I also keep thinking about Andy's comment that Frank subconsciously resents Jane for the power she has over him, which makes him act out on her - the premise of the concealment allows him to hurt her, slander her character, criticize her personality and appearance all under the cloak of hiding the engagement. The ABC game is the greatest example - he already believed that Emma knew about the engagement by then, so there was no point to it except to harass Jane with a tasteless joke at her expense that he knew she didn't find funny.

The thing is I can totally see Box hill and ABC game becoming a pattern in their marriage later on. Whenever Jane doesn't do something that Frank wants her to, I can totally see Frank going unhinged, make veiled barbs at her in company accusing her of having married him for money and making digs at her for coming from a poor family; or express regret at having married too fast and young; or even making slight fun of her with their other guests like he had done with Emma. Later he is going to apologize profusely, love bomb her and buy her lavish gifts. But that doesn't change the fact that this is abusive behavior. You may say I'm overthinking it but consider - all of the future behaviours I noted is based on things he has already said or done canonically in the book.

One of your anons said that Frank had the potential to become Arthur Huntington in the future and unfortunately I can see that. Though I agree with you that Arthur had never loved Helen and Frank does love Jane, but you can still be abusive to people you love. I think of all Austen heroes Frank has the potential to become abusive in the future - because the abusive traits are already in his personality. Although I'm sure this dark side of his character probably appeals to a lot of Frank Churchill's fans.

I know this turned out to be Frank hate rant but I do like Frank. He is super fun to read on the page, and his love for Jane is endearing inspite of everything. And unlike the actual villains like Wickham and Willoughby, he doesn't have harm in his heart and all the harm done is because of his poor emotional regulation and lack of situational empathy. But my point is that a novel from Jane's perspective would be a lot darker than Emma is, and I doubt we will like Frank as much as we do then.

I don't regret voting Edmund because he annoys the fuck out of me, but I doubt he would ever make digs at Fanny's poverty, or make deliberately hurtful comments at her when he loses his temper, or make fun of her socially.

I know you like Frank so sorry if this comes off as hate, I promise it's not. Just a new perspective on "the worst Frank did was not talk to his father." Jane loves him inspite of everything and I can also see why. I hope she fixes him and they have a very happy married life.

English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes.

Your English looks perfect to me. This question is in response to this question.

I don't know if Frank is as bad as you present him or as Andy thinks (I heartily disagree with him). Frank is a spoiled brat and he doesn't have much emotional regulation, but I think a lot of his acting out at Box Hill and the day before is due to his frustration at the engagement taking so long, not at Jane herself or her situation. He talks about how his aunt has only ever denied him a few times, one being going abroad. I think when Frank entered the engagement, he thought he would win his aunt over and it would be done and he'd be happy. The separation is wearing on him.

I think he has a bit too much fun "keeping" (he is not good at this) his secret but he also does not take the secret as seriously as Jane. He's annoyed with her because he wanted to walk her home and she said no. He's desperate to spend time with her but he can't. I think his problem at Box Hill is he takes Jane's rational secret keeping as a rejection of him (it's not). He thinks Jane's love is wearing out.

I could see them having a very happy marriage now that the moral dilemma facing Jane (secret engagement) is gone and Frank is more free to do as he pleases.

[doks-aux]

Fic: Dead Men Take No Dares

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death

Characters: Izzy Hands, Edward Teach, Stede Bonnet, Lucius Springs, Ivan, Fang, Nathaniel Buttons, Crew of the Revenge

Relationships: Izzy Hands & Edward Teach, Izzy Hands & Crew of the Revenge, Izzy Hands & Ivan & Fang

Rating: PG-13/Teen

Content/Warnings: Truth or Dare, friendship (existing, mending, and growing), humor, and a callback to one of my favorite jokes from Season 1

Summary: “Fun, huh?” He breathed in and out once very deliberately then opened his eyes to look at Fang, face carefully neutral. “All right. I can do fun.”

--

Izzy is strong-armed into a game of Truth or Dare and decides to play by the rules.

Notes: Written for the zine Above All Else: An Appreciation of Izzy Hands in 2023 and set in a possible post-Season 1 future where everyone is trying to get along and no one is very good at it. (Except Fang, of course.) Written before the premiere of Season 2 and has not been edited to reflect any of that updated canon. The only difference between this text and what appears in the zine is the correction of three minor grammatical errors that will haunt me for the rest of my natural life.

Word Count: 1368

Read on AO3

--

Israel Hands was seven minutes and fifteen seconds into his frantic search for his captains or, indeed, any sign of life on the Revenge, when he finally heard Bonnet's voice ring through the halls of the gundeck.

“All right! Perhaps we ought to revisit and revise our ‘no more than two truths before a dare’ rule to ‘at least two truths before a dare.’”

The conversation was coming from the jam room, and Izzy hastened his steps in that direction, taking note of each voice that joined in.

“But then we’d barely get any dares!” Black Pete whined.

“I’m fine with that.” That was Spriggs, vaguely distressed as always. “I’m great.”

“Uh, it’s not Truth or Dare without any dares.” Black Pete again.

“Maybe that can just be a rule for Captain Ed and Wee John.” Roach then.

“Sorry about that,” Feeney said at the same time that Edward chirped, “Sorry, mate,” neither sounding particularly sorry at all. Was the whole fucking crew in there?

“Now, we don’t want to single anyone out...” Bonnet waffled--prompting a small chorus of “Yes, we do”--just as Izzy stepped through the door.

“Captain... s?” he asked, catching himself before he forgot to pluralize. He looked first to Edward then to Bonnet, taking in the room’s remaining occupants in between. It was, of course, the whole fucking crew. “Wh--?”

“Hey, Iz-dog!” Edward bellowed cheerfully, springing to his feet and barrelling toward Izzy with enthusiasm he had not anticipated.

“Oh, no, Izzy’s here!” Spriggs gasped, also jumping to fling himself at Izzy.

Edward reached him first, gripping his bicep and tugging excitedly. “You’ve gotta get in on this, mate. We’re--”

“I guess we have to stop having fun now,” Spriggs’ exaggerated lamentations rose over the rest of Edward’s sentence. “So sad.” Undermining his words, he grabbed Izzy’s other shoulder and leaned in to hiss, “What took you so long? There’ve been three fires already.”

“Fire?” Izzy darted his eyes between Edward and the boy before scanning the room more thoroughly. “Where is there a fucking fi--?”

“It’s out, Boss,” Ivan announced, and Izzy whipped his head around to see him stomping out the last embers of a fucking fire.

“Why is there--?”

“In my defense,” Edward cut in, snapping Izzy’s attention back to him, bright-eyed and grinning, “I was dared.”

Izzy held Edward’s unwaveringly mischievous gaze for a moment, just in case an explanation would be offered unprompted.

It was not.

“What are you--?” he began, valiantly suppressing most of a weary sigh.

“We’re playing Truth or Dare,” Jim interrupted this time, annoyed, though whether with him or Edward, Izzy wasn’t sure. He was getting whiplash all the same.

“What the fuck is--?” But Izzy cut himself off this time with a frustrated shake of his head, a growl dying in his throat. That one he actually knew, and it wasn’t the point. “Never mind. Edward, wh--?”

“You should play, too, Iz! It’s a blast!” The implish gleam in his captain’s eyes dimmed just slightly, his smile turning sheepish. “Didn’t mean not to invite you. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

That wasn’t the point. It was not within five hundred nautical miles of the fucking point. But the genuine apology in Edward’s tone took Izzy off guard all the same, stayed his tongue while he allowed himself to appreciate it.

“Oh, of course,” Bonnet butted in before Izzy could find his words again, which was marginally better than interrupting him, but that margin was about as thin as Izzy’s patience. “You can squeeze right in, we haven’t been playing long.”

“Three fires,” Spriggs mouthed silently in Izzy’s peripheral vision.

“I don’t care about your fucking game.” It came out with more bite than Izzy meant it to even if it was true. (He was trying to be less of a dick. They all were. They were bad at it, but they were trying. It just was not the point right now.) “Edward, listen. Wh--?”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Iz. Play with us!”

“Edward, I need to--”

“Join the game, and you can ask him anything you like,” Bonnet said, chipper and smug. “When it’s your turn.”

Edward squashed Izzy’s delusions that he might consider reason by immediately nodding along. “There ya go, Iz, just wait your turn.”

On second thought, fuck the both of them.

“That settles it! Have a seat, Izzy,” Bonnet continued like he didn’t even notice Izzy’s heroic attempts to explode him with his mind. “We’ll do a few rounds so you can see how the game is played.”

“I don’t--”

“And then you can have a turn!”

“Captains--”

“Just let it happen, Boss,” Ivan muttered, calm and commiserating, throwing an arm across Izzy’s back. “Come sit with me and Fang.”

Not wanting to fight because they weren’t supposed to be doing that sort of thing anymore (and because Ivan could scruff him like a cat if he chose), Izzy allowed himself to be led to the bit of floor claimed by Fang, who beamed and scooted over to make room for them.

“Hi, Izzy,” Fang greeted as Izzy sat beside him. Izzy grimaced in reply, careful not to shift his weight onto his bad foot as he settled on the floor. Ivan sat on Izzy’s other side, bracketing him between his old colleagues.

“Does anyone remember whose turn we were on?” Bonnet asked, and conversation erupted through the room, everyone talking over each other while Izzy straightened his spine and tried to catch Edward’s attention through the chaos.

“Anyone who doesn’t love arson,” Spriggs groused, flopping in defeat beside Black Pete.

“Seconding no arson,” Boodhari agreed.

Frenchie laughed. “That’s not a big number on this boat, babes.”

“May I have a turn?” The Swede raised his hand. “I will not choose fire.”

And on and on the inane chatter continued, Izzy squirming in impatience as Edward looked everywhere but at him. He was nearly ready to snap when he felt a gentle touch at his back.

“It’s not so bad, Boss,” Fang murmured kindly, giving him that soft-eyed look that Izzy never knew how to respond to since he’d promised to stop yanking his beard. “Give it a chance. Maybe you’ll have fun.”

Izzy bit the inside of his cheek before he could spit something ugly. He clenched his fists until his fingernails dug into his palms, squeezed his eyes shut until he saw stars, and tensed every muscle in his body until he had no choice but to relax.

“Fun, huh?” He breathed in and out once very deliberately then opened his eyes to look at Fang, face carefully neutral. “All right. I can do fun.”

He would wait his turn.

Fang smiled like he was proud of him, and Izzy did not tell him to fuck off. Bonnet got the game started up again, and Izzy observed the proceedings dutifully. There didn’t seem to be any sort of logic to how the turns were taken, the rules were clearly made up as they went, and the truths asked and dares accepted were as ridiculous and reckless as he would have expected. Nevertheless, he was grudgingly impressed that the Swede could contort his limbs into a pretzel with such ease.

Finally, Bonnet looked to Izzy and spread his arms out with his customarily unwarranted pomp. “Now it’s your turn, Izzy. Ask anyone anything you’d like.”

“Fine.” Izzy looked Edward straight in the eye. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” Edward answered, still constrained by the new dare limit.

“Who’s steering the fucking ship, Edward?”

“The fuck do you mean? Buttons is. Right, Buttons?”

Izzy watched realization dawn in Edward's eyes, his slow, horrified turn to the wall, where Buttons had been standing the whole time.

Buttons, very much not steering the ship, stared back, unblinking. “Olivia wanted to watch the game,” he said of the seagull perched on his head. “She’s a yen for hot gossip.”

“...SHIT!”

Edward tore out of the jam room, most of the crew stampeding after him. Izzy remained seated, Ivan and Fang still at his side and Buttons still against the wall. Under the thunder of footsteps and bickering and Bonnet shrieking in panic, Izzy smiled.

“You were right, Fang. That was fun.”