#as the long dark or fallout

[cubbihue]

I get the feel Norm was out of the loop until recently. Thats what being stuck in a lamp does to a fella.

Final! With his stupid new master occupated with a tasty sandwich, Norm can start phase 1 of his plan. He spent years cooking up the perfect plan, now all he's gotta do is get H.P and Sanderson on board then-

- Wait why is Turner in Pixie HQ? Why is he a pixie? What do you MEAN he's the best pixie employee? He has a godBROTHER? THOSE TWO BOZOS KIDNAPPED TURNER??

HOW LONG WAS I IN THE LAMP???

Now he can't mess with Timmy so easily anymore. It and pisses him off.

I don't remember if Norm met Peri. I sent you that another ask. Had to break it up. Also love your art!

2/2

Norm may have been out of the loop, initially. But he picks up on the facts very quickly. Maybe a bit too quickly.

No Fairy have ever asked Timmy about his experiences when he was human. Nor did any Fairy ask him how it was like to become a Fairy. Norm's the first being in 200 years to do it and Timmy's.

Uncomfortable.

In one conversation, they learned more about each other than Timmy liked. With one response, Norm has learned more about Timmy's current state than Timmy realized he'd given. More so, Norm knows more about Timmy's fate than Timmy does himself.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[practically-an-x-man]

steam summer sale is going to have me making a poor financial decision

[vilevexedvixen]

One of these days I'll actually go camping after burning out instead of just playing survival (horror) games.

Long walks only help so much. Can't just touch grass, got to lay in it.

[lordoaticus]

howdy !!

i'm oaty/soldier. i'm weirdo transsexual boygirl and my pronouns are he/it/oat/xe. do not use they/them for me.

i am autistic and may struggle with tone, so tone tags/indicators are very appreciated. please be nice to me.

my tags are #artfromoat , #oatycore and #oatposting

my special interests are team fortress two, my ocs, and the elder scrolls!! some of my other interests are fish, the fallout franchise, hermitcraft, the long dark, jerma985, art, charborg, writing, and reading. i'm a minor.

FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

blinkies under cut

[t1meslayer]

Fallout (Ch. 2 - "Object Permanence")

Oops guess who got a little busy this week and forgot to do a teaser post for the next "Fallout" chapter release?

I mean... Surprise!

Y'all like surprise content. Right?

===

Fandom: Pokemon Scarlet and Violet (part of my "Paldea's Fearsome Foursome" series)

Characters: Florian (& Ogerpon and Miraidon), Arven (& Mabosstiff)

Summary: Florian and Arven decide what they should do about a newly discovered threat to the Paldea region. Meanwhile, their Pokemon eat sandwiches.

Want to catch up from the beginning? Check out my "Fallout" introduction post and story recap!

In lieu of a text preview, please enjoy this excerpt from the actual, for real scan of Occulture magazine that I included in my fic. That's right; I got the actual publication in my house. It's here. Next to me.

And he's in it:

[victorluvsalice]

AU Thursday: How's "Londerland Bloodlines: Downtown Queensland" Going?

Been another fairly lengthy gap between updates -- our last being in August -- and just as that one hailed me starting Chapter 6, this one hails me ending it -- and thus COMPLETING THE FIRST DRAFT! *blows party horns* Yes, Alice has made it through the trials and tribulations of Downtown --

-->being attacked by the Sabbat the minute she first stepped foot down there and saved by Nines once again (though she didn't appreciate him just speeding off afterward)

-->being sent back to Santa Monica to investigate the Elizabeth Dane (with the inadvertent help of Officer Heinz)

-->meeting up with Victor again and taking him on as a roommate (and quickly growing to really like his company)

-->taking down a plaguebearer cult (which became VERY PERSONAL after no less than two people died from their disease right in front of her)

-->stealing a briefcase for good old Fat Larry (and helping to set off a gang war in the process)

-->helping Venus with her Russian Mafia problem (and accidentally freaking out Venus when she had to admit to being under twenty-one)

-->having the ABSOLUTE WORST NIGHT OF HER LIFE at Grout's little hellhole (seriously, it is so bad)

-->dealing with the local Nagaraja (and not the way you may think)

-->and then infiltrating the Museum Of Natural History almost perfectly -- only to discover the sarcophagus LaCroix wants was no longer inside (though a Beckett was)

I've left it with Alice -- having just discovered how fucking rich Victor is, and with Victor insisting he wants to get her something to show his appreciation for her -- letting Victor take her on a shopping spree for some new clothes before they head over to Hollywood. :D We'll let this sit while I deal with the December gift fics, then next year, it'll be time to start editing and posting! I hope you're all looking forward to it. :)

[lookbluesoup]

All of the stars!

HEY YOU <3 Thanks for the ask!

A bunch of my Fallout 4 fics were titled after quotes from Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, and the novella absolutely impacted my approach to several parts of Nate's journey.

If you're unfamiliar with the book - it was published in 1899. In (extreme) brief, it's a story about a man named Marlow who takes a boat upriver in Africa working with colonists. Though he starts out optimistic about his profession, the abuse of the natives he sees and the dark, "savage" parts of himself and humanity he's pitted against as he travels deeper into the jungle change him irrevocably.

He's forced to realized the "civilized" world is not exempt from great evil, and when he returns to the city at the end of the story, he feels out of place and frustrated by the lack of awareness of those around him.

As a veteran of Anchorage, and a War Hero plagued by guilt, my Nate could certainly relate to that from the very beginning of his own story. Ultimately Nate's story isn't the same - his is about seeing the worst, least civilized parts of the world and finding goodness and grace in humanity regardless. But he must face a lot of his own inner evils and the flaws of his loved ones to get there. He journeys through his own Darkness, and it does change him.

It's not entirely practical for me to list every reference to Heart of Darkness that's present in my published fics, but a few choice ones:

The Heaven's Do Not Fall For Such a Trifle, the fic where Nate finally breaks down and grieves openly for his murdered wife, is titled after a quote from the novella where Marlow tells a woman about her husband's death and witnesses her extreme sorrow:

I heard her weeping; she had hidden her face in her hands. It seemed to me that the house would collapse before I could escape, that the heavens would fall upon my head. But nothing happened. The heavens do not fall for such a trifle.

(and while her husband was actually kind of a dick and Marlow omits a few details to spare the woman, her intense grief throughout that entire scene was very relatable to Nate)

I Remained to Dream, where Nate broods over the hopeless state of the world, is titled after another quote which takes place after the death of a man named Kurtz:

"However, as you see, I did not go to join Kurtz there and then. I did not. I remained to dream the nightmare out to the end, and to show my loyalty to Kurtz once more. Destiny. My destiny! Droll thing life is -- that mysterious arrangement of merciless logic for a futile purpose. The most you can hope from it is some knowledge of yourself -- that comes too late -- a crop of unextinguishable regrets. I have wrestled with death. It is the most unexciting thing you can imagine.

Nate, of course, struggles with suicide throughout most of the first arc of his story. His wife is dead, and his life before lies in ruins, but he's forced to go on living and can't follow her, because he feels he owes something to her memory.

(Director's Cut Asks)

[earthtoatlas]

Oh no...

Hello, wizard

[wholoveseggs]

Homecoming

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen x Reader} You haven't seen your husband since your passionate wedding night, leaving you to doubt his love. Now, three months later, you're round with child and missing him more than ever—until he suddenly returns.

♡♡ This is purely just to get all my daddy Daemon feelings out, I 100% believe he has a breeding kink. ♡♡

3.2k words - Warnings: smut, major breeding kink, slow sex, so so so much fluff, a little bit of angst and Daemon apologizing in bed...

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer

@cheneyq @fallout-girl219 @nina6708 @evasmlp @sadmonke

@deamonloverrrr @urmomsgirlfriend1 @moonsleep

It was another quiet night, in a bed far too large for one. The wind was gently blowing through the curtains, bringing with it a cool breeze and the smell of the sea. It was late, and everyone was asleep, yet you laid awake, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.

You rolled over onto your side, the silk of the sheets sliding against your bare skin. These days, sleep evaded you, no matter how much you tried. If it wasn't your thoughts keeping you up, it was your changing body and the ever growing life inside of you.

Three months ago you had gotten married to the prince Daemon, a dream of many girls across the kingdom. But your marriage was hardly that. The day after the ceremony you woke up in an empty bed, and hadn't seen your husband since, leaving you to wonder if you had done something wrong.

He had left you no letter, no message. Nothing. Only the memory of your wedding night, the way he touched and kissed you, his sweet whispers of adoration as he made you his. On the loneliest days you would close your eyes and remember it all, his lips on yours, the way his fingers caressed you, the feel of him inside you.

You place your hand on the small bump of your stomach, a smile spreading across your lips. Although it had only been one night, he did his duty and you were pregnant. A piece of him was always with you.

But it wasn't enough.

You longed to see him again, to touch him and be held by him, to tell him of the life growing within you. You wanted so desperately to be with him, but instead you were left with the ghost of his love, a memory that wasn't enough to fill the hole in your heart.

You sighed, trying to push away those thoughts, and attempted to fall asleep, but every time you closed your eyes all you could see was his handsome face. You opened them again and sat up, staring into the darkness.

You could see the light of a torch through the cracks of the door, and the sound of footsteps. You knew exactly who it was, the guard outside your door. His shift was almost over, and soon a new one would be out there, watching over you. There was a muffled conversation, and the sound of someone walking away.

A few moments later the door cracked open, and the torch light poured into the room. Your eyes squinted at the sudden brightness, and as the person entered the room they shut the door.

You were about to give your guard a kindly lecture on waking you up when you noticed that it wasn't the guard who had walked in, but a hooded man. You opened your mouth to call for help, but before you could get a sound out he was at your bedside, his hand covering your mouth.

"Don't scream, my love, it's me." He whispered.

You blinked at the voice, your mind taking a second to process what was happening. Your eyes widened, and you reached for his hand. He took it away from your mouth and intertwined your fingers together, his other hand pulling down his hood.

"Daemon." You breathed, looking up at his face.

The torchlight casted a warm glow on his handsome features, highlighting his strong cheekbones and sharp jawline. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him, hanging past his shoulders, his eyes were dark and clever, looking you over with admiration.

You pulled him towards you, your lips crashing into his. He let out a sigh, a sound that sounded almost pained, and returned your kiss. Then you harshly pushed him away, hitting his chest.

"Where have you been?" You demanded.

"I had matters to attend to." He told you.

"Three months!" You cried. "Three months I waited for you, and you were doing what?"

He smiled and pulled off his cloak, his eyes raking over your form. He reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin.

You wanted to be angry with him, you really did, but the look he was giving you, like he was starved, melted away your resolve. You leaned into his touch and looked up at him through your lashes, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Asshole," You whispered.

"My love." He whispered back, leaning down and placing a kiss to your forehead.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for another heated kiss. You were angry, yes, but seeing him now made all of that fade away. Your ire could wait until the morning.

His lips were gentle and loving, and you were so happy that you had almost forgotten that he had been gone. He kneeled on the bed and pulled you close, his hands cupping your cheeks.

When he pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, smiling and breathing hard.

"I thought you left me," You admitted, your hands gripping his wrists, as though you could keep him there forever by holding on to him.

He hummed, his nose nuzzling against yours and you pressed yourself closer to him, trying to get as much contact as possible.

His large, warm hands moved down to the swell of your stomach. He placed his palms flat against the bump and leaned back, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Did the maesters tell you?" You asked, placing your hands over his.

He nodded, his eyes lifting up to meet yours. "How are you feeling?" He asked, with such gentle kindness that it made your heart melt.

"Big." You answered, laughing slightly. "I can't wear any of my old clothes, and I have to have new ones made all the time. And the way the ladies look at me when I go out..."

He shook his head, a breathy laugh escaping him, his thumbs caressing your skin. It was true that you had changed since the wedding, your body swelling with his child. You were nervous about how he would react, but the softness in his eyes and the way he touched you told you otherwise.

"I wish I could have told you the news myself, it's a shame you had to hear it from some crusty old maester," you said.

"It is a wonderful thing to return home too," he smiled, leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours.

He kissed you deeply, his arms wrapping around your waist. You smiled into the kiss, your fingers weaving through his long, silver hair. You could feel his lips turn up against yours, and you both pulled away.

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes raking over your features, a smirk tugging at his lips. His hands trailed down your sides, sending a wave of heat through you.

"My prince," you said softly, your fingers brushing along his cheekbone. "We've already made a baby. You don't have to do this."

He laughed, and shook his head, a look in his eyes you couldn't decipher. "I forget just how innocent you are," he said, his hands trailing down to your thighs.

“Well, whose fault is that?” You teased, smiling up at your handsome husband.

You sucked in a breath as he leaned down, his lips trailing kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin.

"It's true, I've been away for too long, my lady wife has forgotten what it is I crave," he breathed against your skin, his lips finding yours once more.

Your hands slid down his shoulders and arms, feeling his muscles. He pulled back slightly and tugged off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

"You have gotten bigger as well," you said, running your hands across his chest, feeling the hard muscles.

He smirked, a cocky gleam in his eyes. "Oh?"

"It suits you," you said, a playful smile on your lips.

His hand came to rest on the side of your neck, his fingers caressing your jaw. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip and he leaned in, capturing your mouth with his.

"And you are more beautiful than the day we wed," he said, his voice husky.

"My prince flatters me." You breathed, a blush rising on your cheeks.

His eyes went to the ties on your nightdress, a row of pretty little bows that went down to the valley of your breasts. He tugged at one of the ribbons, the fabric becoming loose.

He pushed it aside and his hand moved up to caress your breast, his thumb rubbing your nipple, causing you to gasp.

"Still as sensitive." He said, a smirk on his lips.

He leaned down and took your other nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, before gently biting down. You tugged hard on his hair, your legs kicking and squirming as he continued to play with you.

"Daemon," you moaned.

He hummed, the vibration causing a wave of pleasure to wash over you. He let go of your nipple, and his mouth moved lower, placing hot kisses along your skin, his hand pushing up your night dress.

"Perhaps a bit more sensitive." He commented, his hand brushing along your thigh.

He hooked a finger into the waistband of your small clothes and pulled them off. You were now naked, your body on full display for him, and he leaned back and admired his work. His hand on the swell of your belly, his thumb tracing over a stretch mark.

"Beautiful." He said, a sincerity in his voice that made your heart skip a beat.

You looked away, suddenly shy. You had only spent one night with him, and now he was here again. His touch, his words, they all still had an affect on you, making your stomach flutter and heart race.

He leaned down, and pressed a kiss to your bump, his hand resting on the side of it, his lips trailing lower. You smiled softly, and ran your fingers through his hair, the silver strands smooth between your fingers.

His hand came to rest on your thighs, gently coaxing your legs open. You watched as he positioned himself between them, his head almost disappearing behind your bump.

His eyes flickered up to yours, and his smirk was all too knowing, causing you to blush and turn away. He leaned forward, his tongue darting out and licking up your slit.

You gasped, your grip on his hair tightening. He did it again, this time focusing his attention on that sensitive little spot he introduced to you on your wedding night. He placed a soft kiss on it, his tongue circling it.

"Dae-ah," you moaned, trying to muffle the sound by pressing a hand over your mouth.

You didn't know if it was the fact that you were pregnant, or maybe that you missed him more than anything, but everything felt different, his touch more intense.

His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, holding you down as his tongue licked and circled you. His mouth moved down and his tongue slid into you, making you arch and cry out. He lapped at your arousal, his tongue going in and out, the sounds he made, the hums and sighs, driving you wild.

He groaned, a sound that vibrated through your entire body, and his tongue went up, swirling around that little spot again, his mouth closing over it.

You moaned his name, your thighs squeezing him, your whole body trembling as your release washed over you.

He placed a few more kisses to the inside of your thighs before rising up, his hair messy and face glistening with you. He wiped his face with his arm and leaned down, his lips capturing yours.

You could taste yourself on him, and you kissed him hard, your hand tangling into his hair, the other reaching down to the ties of his trousers. He helped you undo them, and kicked off his pants.

His hard length sprung free, and you wrapped a hand around it, causing him to let out a shaky moan. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and his eyes locking onto yours.

You slowly started to stroke him, and he let out another moan, his eyes fluttering closed, his breath hot against your skin.

"My love," he groaned, his hips thrusting into your hand.

You loved the effect you had on him, the control you had. To have the prince of dragonstone, the most dangerous man in the realm, at the palm of your hand, made your heart flutter.

His hand found yours, and he guided it away from his length, a whine leaving your throat. He chuckled and gave you a quick kiss before positioning himself between your legs.

He slowly pushed himself in, causing you both to moan. It hurt a little, just like the first time, but his hands were on your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin, and he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, letting you adjust.

"My love, I'm not going to break," you said.

He smirked and gave a shallow thrust, a gasp leaving you.

"I can't be too careful with what is mine." He said, leaning down and giving you a heated kiss.

He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, his hand sliding up the length of your leg, coming to rest on your bump, his other hand planted next to your head, holding himself up.

He started to move, his length slowly sliding in and out, the pace slow and gentle. You could feel every inch of him, rubbing against that perfect spot. A soft moan left you, and you reached out, your hands on his chest, feeling the hand planes of muscle underneath his skin.

His thumb caressed your belly, his eyes never leaving your face, studying every detail, memorizing each feature. You felt so exposed under his gaze and turned away, your cheeks flushed.

He smiled, a soft, loving smile, and kissed you.

"How I've missed you, my beautiful wife," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You looked up at him, seeing nothing but love in his eyes. It was the way he had looked at you at your wedding, the two of you standing there in the sept, whispering promises to each other. The world had disappeared around you, and in that moment you were the only people that existed.

He kissed you again, and began moving a little faster, the sound of his hips meeting yours filling the room. He groaned, his hand still gently stroking your bump.

"I can't believe such a perfect creature could bear my child," he said, his eyes trailing down to where his hand rested.

"Our child," you corrected, giving him a teasing smile.

He hummed, leaning back and wrapping his arms around your waist and helping you into a sitting position. He pulled you onto his lap, and you moaned at the way he was buried deeper inside you.

His lips left open mouth kisses on your shoulders, and his hands rested on your hips, guiding you. You braced yourself on his shoulders, his hands back on your bump as you moved. You knew he liked the feel of it, and he couldn't get enough.

Your name left his lips as you bounced in his lap, his hands cupping your ass, squeezing you. You moaned, your hands sliding into his hair, tugging at the silver locks. You were growing louder, your body humming, that feeling building within you.

"Not too loud, my love," he whispered. "I do not wish for the guards to hear,"

A moan, that was halfway to a laugh escaped you, and he cut it off with a deep kiss. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, as you kept moving, the feeling of your release building.

"For your lovely sounds are only for me," he continued, his voice in your ear.

You let out another shaky moan, his hands squeezing you. He was moving his hips to meet yours, and you could feel him shaking beneath you. His hands gripped your hips tighter, and pulled you harder, his voice soft yet commanding as he talked you closer to your peak.

Your hands gripped his arms and back, and when he said your name, a deep, low groan that sounded almost pained, you toppled over the edge, falling in a pool of ecstasy. All the pent up emotions and frustration that you had been holding in were released, and you let go of a final moan that you muffle in the crook of his neck.

He followed soon after, capturing your lips in a heated kiss and letting out a deep, satisfied moan. You clung to him, afraid that he might disappear if you didn't. His arms were wrapped around your middle, cradling you close to him, his lips pressed to your temple.

The two of you breathed in each other's air, a simple shared breath, your foreheads pressed together, your eyes closed. You could feel his lips on your sweat slicked skin, his fingertips still caressing your bump.

When you both had returned to your senses, he gently laid you back on the bed. He leaned down, the tip of his nose nuzzling against yours, and peppered your face with little kisses. You smiled and let your eyes flutter open, finding him staring at you, a sweet, lovestruck look in his eye.

He grabbed the blanket, and covered your naked form with it, tucking it around you, almost protectively. He crawled under with you,his head resting against your chest, his hand still protectively cradling the swell of your stomach.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and ran your fingers through his hair, smiling. He looked up at you, his eyes sleepy, and he pressed a kiss to your bump.

"I hope it's a boy," you said, continuing to stroke his hair. "With the most handsome features, and a true warrior, like his father."

"Mm," he hummed, his eyes closing, and his arms wrapping around your waist. "I hope it is a girl, a daughter that looks just like her mother."

He was silent for a moment, and you wondered if he had fallen asleep, when his eyes suddenly opened.

"Or perhaps both," he said, his voice serious, a glimmer of something in his eyes.

"Twins?" You laughed. "I don't think I could handle two little dragons running about."

He chuckled, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin. "I will be here to help you," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "I am not going anywhere."

"You better not," you warned, poking his chest. "You've kept me waiting long enough."

He laughed again and caught your wrist, bringing your finger to his lips and placing a gentle kiss there. He slid his arms back around you, and pulled you close, your foreheads touching, your noses brushing.

You were content, your heart filled with so much love for him, and as his breathing evened out and his eyelids drooped, you knew he felt the same. You drifted off to sleep, dreaming of what was to come. Of a big family, a happy life, and many more nights just like this one. 

[accecakes]

Cod x Fallout NV! Mixing special interests!

Allow me to go on a tangent for a hot minute.

Exbrotherhood! Ghost: Simon has been part of the brotherhood for as long as he can remember. Having been abandoned as an infant on the steps of the Hidden Valley bunker. They took him in, becoming one of their most outstanding soldier with expertise in both weaponry and survival tactics. Simon would then be tranfered into their patrol team. Where he would collect data and become familiarized with the mojave landscape. Enough to expose himself to dangerous amounts of radiation. Which then turned him into a ghoul. He made his best attempt to keep his ghoulification hidden. However, word got around that they've been noticing a harshness in his voice and reluctant to change, shower, or eat in front of others. The overseer found out, making them take the ultimate decision of executing one of their own. In which he deemed "Putting him out of his misery." Simon completely shattered by his sentence. During his incarceration, he conjured the plan of faking his death on the day of his execution, in hopes of leaving the brotherhood and adopting the new identity he called "Ghost."

Boomer! Soap: John grew up on Nellis' air force base ever since his ancestors had left Vault 34 decades ago. Ever since Soap was introduced to heavy artillery and explosives, which is customary for residents part of the boomers. He discovered his natural talent of all things explosives, firing from long distances and calculating the necessary amount required for certain jobs. Soap volunteered to be part of their guard outpost. Anyone who would even look in the direction of the base would have been blast to kindgom come. They would receive all sorts of unwarranted visitors. A group that managed to catch his eye were the raiders who flaunted their makeshift armor. A part of Soap grew curious of their lifestyle and choice in wardrobe. After dark, he would secretly collect the scraps leftover from the explosions. Not much could have been recovered, but the pieces that did survive, he would wear and keep hidden in his bunker. Soap couldn't let the others know of his fascination. It would have been seen as fratinizing with the enemy.

[happywitch416]

Much happier now that I am no longer giving bubblegum bitch vibes 😂

[twosides--samecoin]

takes place in alaska or canada. somewhere up north

I humbly suggest the Northwest Territories because I'm from there. Can confirm that being outside in -60 Celsius and not having gloves on is Not Good and feels like your health bar is going down because that's early onset frostbite baybeee

But may I also offer: the brutal in the beautiful. A break in the cloud and you see auroras dance. Yao Guai but they're ice bears and are camouflaged in the snow and there's no difference between a polar bear and the ground itself. Ptarmigan & hares that you must hunt with care because you could eat a good meal but only if they don't flee. Arctic radwolves, muskox, bison and caribou that can and will mess you up if you get too close. Ravens that are just circling and watching and echoing the sounds you make as auditory feedback of progression & choices made. Sparser populations of tamarack and pine in the northern reaches of the map. Walking across a lake to take shelter in an abandoned houseboat, frozen in the middle of Great Slave Lake. There were 11 official languages in this place at the time of the bombs (nine Indigenous languages + French and English) and you cannot guarantee you can speak with someone in your native tongue. Labrador tea for sickness. Pine tea to get you through the night. Cranberries; Saskatoon berries. Mountain avens and purple saxifrages that grow close in little clusters on Precambrian rock. A heartbreaking wilderness, as beautiful as it is unkind, that doesn't care about the many follies of man; much less your revenge or the fate of your dogs. It has existed before you and will continue to exist not in spite or despite you, but in utter ignorance. Oh, you're here? That's nice. You cannot make a dent on this place if you tried. To quote the Tragically Hip: "Either it'll move me or it'll move right through me; fully and completely"

Fallout: Snowblind

aka an idea for a little fallout game i had semirecently which is minimally developed but i'm sharing anyway

intro cutscene has a few establishing shots of wide open fields enveloped in a blizzard. cut to a team of sled dogs racing across the snow. on the sled is you! The Musher!

one of your dogs is abruptly shot, and your sled skids to a halt. three assailants rush you, hit you over the head, cut the shot dog loose, and flee on your sled with your dogs and possessions. you crawl over to your dying dog, cradle her, and then gently remove her collar once she has passed.

your lead dog wears a radio collar. you pull out a tracker, and the game begins. your goal is to find and recover your dogs, and maybe get revenge.

other notes:

beginning stage would have you chasing the signal through the blizzard, health slowly ticking down due to radiation and cold; before it gets too low you'll stumble across an abandoned cabin where you can take shelter

whole game takes place over a fairly short timespan. take too long, and when you finally find the radio collar it will have been cut off, your attackers long gone.

heavy survival focus – manage hunger, thirst, alertness, temperature, etc.

related, several equipment upgrades can be acquired over the course of the game - snowshoes, heavier jackets, maps of the area, and so on

the blizzard never lets up during the course of the game, meaning you need to carefully plan movement between locations, lest you succumb to the cold

no character customization; the Musher is covered head to toe in layers. you can, of course, interpret their appearance underneath however you like; they also aren't voiced

event timing matters, ex. if you don't meet a certain npc before halfway through the second day you'll find them frozen to death

takes place in alaska or canada. somewhere up north

the only npc i've though of would be a ghoul fur trapper, but i'm sure there's other folks here. there isn't a proper town, just people who happen to be in the area

your attackers were able to steal your dogs because one of them has animal friend

SPECIAL and skills would exist about as usual, you can choose traits at the start, and perks are more along the lines of ones you can pick up as quest rewards - ex the fur trapper can teach you how to skin animals, and so you can sell or craft with the pelts afterwards

combat would solely be a result of failing to deescalate situations with the handful of npcs, or else wandering aimlessly into the woods and getting attacked by wolves. weapons and ammo are appropriately limited. you start with a knife and a bow w/arrows.

limited enough npcs that your reputation would be tracked with each one individually; screw someone over early on and they won't help you later

all of your dogs are named

[new-eyes-extra-colors]

FNV courier asks: 1, 3, 7, 10, 12, 21, and 42

Tysm for the ask! For my courier, Aces:

which faction did they side with (NCR, legion, yes-man, or house)?

They joined Yes Man. Initially they were uncomfortable working with him because of his association with Benny, but they got over that pretty quickly--not least because in their opinion, their other options were much worse.

3. melee, guns, energy weapons, or unarmed?

A combination of melee and guns--they use Lucky (a revolver) for distance and Gehenna (a shiskebab) for close combat. They can fight unarmed, but prefer not to. They adjust their fighting style depending on which companions they're with, for example keeping distance so as not to get in Veronica's way, or moving in close to keep enemies focused on them and away from Arcade.

7. favorite companions? least favorite companions?

Their favorites are Veronica, who they fuss over and treat like a little sister, and Arcade, who they consider their best friend. They think ED-E is the cutest little thing in the whole Mojave. They're close with Lily and Boone as well, although they take some time to warm up to the latter, the two of them wind up very good friends.

(They're friends with Raul and Cass too--those two are just kinda difficult to get in-game so I haven't spent a bunch of time with them and am not 100% sure about how Aces feels about them in comparison to the others.)

10. where were they born/raised? when/why did they leave?

Aces was born in Oklahoma before moving west, though in their case it was because they got a job as a courier, which is something they've been doing for a while. Their family raised horses.

After being shot, they don't remember this, but they do retain their skill with animals.

12. how did the bullet affect them?

Badly. They have almost no memory of their life before it, and can't remember their name. Doc Mitchell calls them "Ace" because of the ace of hearts card tucked into their hat band, and it just kind of sticks. They're blind in their right eye and have scars across the right side of their face, and because they're self-conscious of their looks, they style their hair and wear a bandanna to cover the worst of the damage.

21. what do they look like? how tall are they? are they attractive? any piercings, tattoos, scars?

Have a little doodle!

They're 6'5", muscular, and somewhat top-heavy. As mentioned, they have facial scarring from the bullet, but that's the worst injury they've sustained in their life. They have a number of minor scars and scrapes from working with horses, as a courier, and travelling, but nothing noteworthy. They keep their hair long until after Old World Blues, where it's shaved and they decide to keep it that way. By that point, they're starting to go grey.

They love wearing bright colors and dressing up when they go out on the Strip. Particularly, they like floral patterns and embroidery. They're charismatic and a little vain, and can be very showy in mannerism and appearance.

42. name a random fact about your courier.

This is sort of a meta fact I guess, but when I first played FNV I was also reading Stephen King's The Dark Tower novels, and I based Ace's initial appearance on a character in that series named Susannah Dean. I think the name on my first save was "Suze," even.

[prokopetz]

I broadly disagree with the criticism that Blades in the Dark's resource economy is busted, but I recognise that it's assuming a very particular relationship between players and player characters. While it's not quite on par with the OSR "funnel" model where the vast majority of player characters won't survive their first session, it's very consciously aimed at producing campaigns where, if you insist on playing as the same character in every heist, that character is going to have an average lifespan of three or four heists before they max out their trauma or eat lethal harm. This is intentional: the text points out that you might want to let your character sit an adventure out now and then if you want them to have any sort of life expectancy, and some of the fallout results between scores explicitly take your character out of play for a session and tell you to play as somebody else in the meantime. There's a reason that character creation choices are so minimal, and advancement ("levelling up") so strikingly rapid.

Where the trouble arises is that I see a lot of Blades in the Dark hacks that don't have this assumption, and position themselves as games where you're expected to play as the same character for the full length of a long-running campaign, but they keep the base game's resource loop more or less intact. Like, that's not necessarily a mistake if your explicit intention is for two thirds of the initial cast to be dead by the end of the first arc, but it's my experience that this is not often the case. I feel like a lot of people are just not doing the math – then other people are coming along and playing these hacks, correctly identifying that the resource loop of the game they are playing is not congruent with how that game's text claims its campaign play is supposed to work, and concluding that Blades in the Dark is a bad system.

[crescenthistory]

Hello, may i request a prompt "are we friends?" between f!reader and the slytherin skittles? Where the reader used to attend Ilvermorny but had trauma from it (like bullying and fallout with friends). So she doesn’t want to intrude on the friendship that the skittles already have. Oh and they’re all in their sixth year. Thank you 🙏

hi lovely, thank you for this cute concept<33 i didn't explicitly emphasise what your past at ilvermorny was to leave it dubious and open to every reader

Prompt: F.3 "Are we friends?"

Words: 2.2k

Warnings/tags: gn!reader, use of y/n, ilvermorny!reader (no specified nationality), implied troubled background at ilvermorny, mental illness/insecurity shown through reader's pov, odd friendship dynamics, found family, intended as platonic!slytherin skittles x reader but can be read as romantic if you want<3

You weren't entirely sure what happened.

One day you were being thrown into what felt like a wild zoo filled with any and every kind of person you could possibly imagine, clad in dark robes and chattering around in hundreds of different accents, and you were decidedly determined to isolate yourself away from the masses and live a solitary life at Hogwarts.

The next, you were sitting in the library and the same group of Slytherins that sat with you yesterday – and strangely the day before that, and the day before that – plopped down around you and made themselves at home. As if this was simply the norm, as if it was a given that their seat was the one beside you.

You weren't offended or uncomfortable, necessarily, but you were certainly... confused. You didn't mind them being there, yet their presences were strange to you and you could not make sense of this disconnect in your mind.

When you arrived at Hogwarts a month ago, you had felt nothing short of publicly humiliated when you were brought up to the Sorting Hat after the ocean of 11 year-olds had been passed through it for the past hour. It was apparently not a common occurrence that students transferred in from other schools, especially not Ilvermorny, and there was no protocol for how to handle it. Instead of taking your Ilvermorny house into consideration and putting you in the Hogwarts house that most closely resembled it, Dumbledore himself had decided that this jittery 7th year student go through the same process as everyone else.

McGonnagall had pitied you enough to grab your shoulder before you went up to whisper to you, "The hat is your friend, not foe, Mx. L/N. Do not fear it."

With entirely too many eyes on you, you climbed the steps and gingerly sat down on the seat. Unlike with the kids, the Sorting Hat fit you rather snuggly, leaving you unfortunately without the much sought after shelter of the brim.

You solved the solution by looking down in your lap, trying not to visibly startle when a voice spoke in your mind.

Transfer student, huh? Haven't had one of you in a while. Most certainly interesting...

You reminded yourself friend not foe and closed your eyes, trying to will the hat to be merciful and grant you reprieve. To put you in a house where you can get what you need – solitude, privacy, quiet. It was just a year. You could go through a year if you were just left alone.

To your shock – though perhaps it shouldn't have been – the hat responded to your thoughts.

What you need, you say? Well, I do believe I can help in that regard. Keep your mind open, dear one.

The next word the hat spoke was out loud, not in your mind – it yelled out "SLYTHERIN". At the time, you didn't know whether to be relieved, confused or terrified. Unbeknownst to you, a certain group of 7th year Slytherins sitting at the end of the long table had shared curious looks and wide grins upon the announcement.

Those Slytherins were the very same strewn around you today, on various furniture all surrounding the same large oak table that was almost invisible beneath all your parchments and books.

You were sitting on one end of a settee, legs crossed and wrists resting on the table, somewhat jittery. On the other side sat Regulus Black in a similar position, his face as impassive as ever and turned down into a book that you were quite confident was not in the curriculum. Opposite you on a similar sofa, Barty Crouch Jr. laid upside down, with his legs thrown over the back of the sofa and his neck craning in a way that simply could not be comfortable where it rested on the seat. Pandora Rosier was sitting cross-legged on the ground beside Barty's head, braiding a dozen tiny braids into his hair, mixing black and acid green strands together absentmindedly. Her twin brother Evan Rosier was pretending to ignore whatever Barty was talking about as he did his homework, but you could see how his ears were perked up. Lastly, Dorcas Meadowes sat on an armchair beside the settees, twirling her wand and looking every bit like she was thinking of something she shouldn't.

You would be the first to admit that they were interesting people. In another life, perhaps you would even spend time together on purpose – but now, above all else one might want to know about them, you wanted to know why they were here.

It had started by them making space for you on the Slytherin table that first day, and afterwards they always left an open space there. Not asking, not demanding; it was as if they were just assuming you would sit there. And you didn't know where else to sit, so you did. Then the same thing happened in your classes – you sat down at an empty table, and before you knew it, one of them was taking the empty seat beside you.

There was never any proper introductory conversation, never any invitation into a friendship, yet they found you everywhere. It was not as if they didn't talk to you when they were there, though; from the very beginning, they were cracking jokes with and around you and roping you into their odd conversations. Learning more about you as you went instead of interrogating you on the spot.

It was sudden and unexpected and you didn't know what to do about it.

"Then I told him precisely where he could shove it and– are you even listening to me?" Barty cut himself off to look accusatory at Evan, whose eyebrow was now quirked up while his eyes remained trained on his parchment.

"Hm?" Evan asked absentmindedly, though you were almost entirely sure it was just to rile the other boy up.

Evan was usually successful in such endeavors, and this was no exception, judging by the shrieking gasp that escaped Barty. "You absolutely bloody wanker, how dare you– this is a good story!"

"Maybe," Evan drawled. "But it lost its charm around the third time I heard it."

Barty whipped his head sideways to stare daggers into Evan. "Salazar's soggy balls, this is a new story, I swear." He then rolled his head backwards to look at you upside down, pinning you to the seat with the same accusatory tone. "You were listening to me, right Treasure?"

You made a reluctant face. "Sorry, I didn't realise you were talking to me."

Barty let out a theatrical huff and threw his hands up in the air for effect, nearly hitting Pandora on the way, causing Evan to give his wrist a slap, still without looking. "Of course I was talking to you – I'm talking to you all. By Merlin, you're all awful friends."

Though Barty continued on with his grumbling, you felt frozen in place by his last word. Before you could think more of it, the words tumbled out of your mouth. "We're what now?"

Dorcas tilted her head to the side, looking between you and Barty. "Oh, he didn't mean it Y/N, he's just a loudmouthed arse. You're still getting used to it."

"I resent that." Barty pointed at Dorcas as he spoke before he grabbed one of Evan's parchments, curled it up into a ball and threw it at Dorcas. "I'll have you know, I'm a fucking delight."

You were unaffected by their banter, eyes still narrowed at the lot of them, trying to decipher and understand what the hell was going on.

"You're thinking hard." Regulus remarked from your right, finally looking up at his book. At his rare contribution to conversation, Evan and Pandora seemed to perk up as well, and you suddenly felt entirely too much like you were being stared down. It was worse than the Sorting Hat.

"I–" you began, but cut yourself off and pressed your lips together with furrowed brows. "You think we're friends?"

Whatever they expected your answer to be, that did not seem to be it, based on their empty gazes. Dorcas reared her head backwards just a little, while Barty did a full body spin to land him in a mostly-upright position on the sofa – this time Evan yanked Pandora out of reach of Barty's swinging legs.

"What do you mean, do I think we’re friends?" Barty questioned then, almost offended. "Don’t pull my leg, why else would we be here? Either way, what I was trying to say–"

Barty's rant was once again cut off, this time simply by Dorcas holding up one hand in his direction while her eyes remained dutifully trained on you. "Love, did you not think we're friends?" she asked. Her voice was so painfully gentle, so caring, that you wanted to shy away from it, to pack up your bag and run and hide.

You realised that that was not a possibility. Instead, you tried to shrug as casually as you could and not let your emotions show. "Well, why would we be? We don't know each other, do we?"

You dared a glance sideways to see Regulus looking at you with a seemingly unimpressed expression, but you saw the twitch in the corner of his mouth. Evan opposite you, though, was not hiding his wide grin whatsoever. "Don't we know each other, love?" he asked then, seemingly partially smug.

"Yeah, if you don't know me, that is because you lot of wankers never listen. But I most certainly know you, L/N." Barty gestured with his finger in your general direction, as if he was preaching, which Evan yet again slapped away – though in favour of pulling Barty closer into his side.

"You don't know me," you tried, voice shaky yet growing somewhat frustrated with the situation.

"Of course we do," Dorcas intercepted. "I know you loathe breakfast but adore dinner. I know you prefer tea over coffee, I know that you like the sweets from back home better than those from Honeydukes."

"And I know that you're ridiculously patient, both with randos you're paired up with in class and with us, your friends," Barty added with a deadpan. "I know your real laughter is a very cute snort. I know you dislike being pranked but enjoy watching them play out, which is why we never play them on you but always around you."

"You're kind and you're bloody bright," Evan said with a nod, as if this was a natural conclusion. “Your best subjects are all of my worst ones, which is a joy. Watching your passion for them is the most enjoyable, though.”

"And you're peculiar just like us." Pandora finally spoke up with a smile on her lips and a glint in her eye. "That's why we go so well together – we're the same."

At some point in their conversation with you, your mouth fell open as you listened to them recount everything they had picked up about you over the past few weeks. The moment didn't feel real, it felt fabricated by some awfully optimistic and naive six year old still living in your mind, one that was readily crushed long before your transfer. You didn't realise they had noticed you so much.

You're brought out of your stupor by Regulus' quill being poked into your side, demanding your attention. You turned your head to find the twitch of his lip had turned into a small, knowing smile. "Even if we don't know everything about where you've been, we know who you are. You don't need to tell us anything for us to understand that."

"Yeah, what he said!" Barty exclaimed with glee, kicking his feet up onto the sofa as he leaned his entire weight on Evan.

“Even before we knew anything about you, we were friends.” Pandora was looking out through a window, seemingly in thought and awfully happy at being so. “In a way, we’ve always been friends, I suppose. When it just works like this.” 

You weren’t always sure you understood what Pandora meant, but this time, you felt it in your heart.

"Sorry love, but you're kind of stuck with us now. Should have sat with someone else on your first day." Dorcas shot you a wink at that, and something in your chest seemed to snap into place.

Even when you were asking an awkward question, the atmosphere never changed – there was no pity here, no judgment, just... kinship.

Friendship.

At last, you let a smile begin to bloom from within you, one which you immediately saw reflected back at you in your five new friends.

"No, actually, I don't think I should have."

[j-allen-art-design]

"Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing."

A little late for Fallout Day but I fancied making a Nick Valentine artwork, embracing the Noir style for the synth detective. Enjoy!