#it requires a cowboy hat honestly

[lisa-and-shadow]

Sam Coe doin' some mighty fine dancing at Paradiso.

11/10 Boot scootin' 🤠💕

[azrielslittleslut]

Requesting Azriel x easily anxious and agitated Valkyrie, who constantly zones out? Fluff/smut/angst, you pick(just don’t break my marshmallow heart at the end😭)

"Little Valkyrie"

Azriel x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, Az is kind of an asshole, reader is a lil bit of an asshole back, language

Word Count: 2.9k

a/n: i would do anything to see az in a cowboy hat. i don't ride horses, but i'd ride him like one.

Enjoy!

The sound of the sword dropping onto the training room floor brought you back to the present. The clang of the steel hitting the ground echoed for a few moments, your breath coming in ragged pants as you tried to collect yourself.

Azriel groaned, his eyes rolling slightly as he looked at the dropped weapon. "That's the second time this has happened today," he said, dropping his own sword to his side. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

You flinched, your cheeks heating as the weight of your own failure crashed down on you. "I don't know," you whispered, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. "I didn't sleep well last night. I guess I'm just tired."

"Tired" was definitely not the word to use, but it was the only excuse you could come up with. As a Valkyrie, you should be able to push through exhaustion, and Azriel knew that. You should be able to hold your sword high, no matter how sore or tired you are.

But you had never been like the other Valkyries. You were slower and slightly weaker, always full of anxiety about fighting or training. You could hold your own, of course, but it required more effort on your part. You had spent hours and hours in this very training ring, going through countless exercises to become a part of their ranks.

Now that you thought about it, you honestly didn't know why you had been so insistent on becoming one. You were happier when your nose was buried in a book than when you had a dagger in your hand. You were a dreamer. Your mind was always filled with imaginary scenarios that had absolutely nothing to do with fighting.

You would never admit how often you zoned out to anyone, especially not Azriel. Just earlier, he had been walking you through different sword techniques, his deep voice full of careful instruction as he showed you.

The only problem was, you didn't remember any of it. You had been too busy imagining what Azriel would look like wearing a silly hat, like a cowboy hat. It had taken all of your self-control to keep from giggling at the thought of such a broody male wearing something so ridiculous.

Yes, the zoning out was a massive problem, but you couldn't help it. It was how you dealt with your anxiety since childhood, and unfortunately for you and everyone else around, that little habit had continued on into adulthood.

Plus, it was the only way to ease your frazzled nerves around him. You weren't scared of him, like so many others, but your nervousness had other roots.

He was so beautiful, all tall, dark, and handsome. Your skin tingled every time he touched you to adjust your hold on a weapon. You felt your breath catch in your throat when he looked at you with those beautiful eyes.

You were so pathetic, pining after a male like Azriel, who was so unemotionally available it bordered on hilarious.

"Hello?" Azriel's annoyed voice brought you out of your thoughts. Damn it. You had done it again. "If you aren't going to pay attention to me, I'm not going to waste any more of my time. I have other things to do."

You watched in silence as Azriel walked over to the weapon storage area, and you felt anger boil inside of your veins as you watched him meticulously shed his weapons.

That was the downside to all of this- when you zone out, and others notice, you always get so agitated that you lose control of the words that come out of your mouth.

"What? You can't miss another appointment with those shadows of yours to do nothing but brood?" you snapped, your hands on your hips as you pinned him to the spot with your eyes.

Azriel turned on his heels, hazel eyes blazing with fury. "I would rather spend my time brooding than with a wanna-be Valkyrie who can't even focus."

The harshness of his words hung in the air, cutting through your heart like a knife. You had always been fond of Azriel, and recently you had even started to develop a small crush on him. But just like that, your hopes of anything more than a forced friendship with him were deflated like a popped balloon.

"I'm- I'm sorry," you stammered, unable to fight the tears that now spilled down your cheeks. "I think I should go now. I'll find someone else to train me."

You didn't bother looking back at him as you rushed from the training ring, your tears falling freely now. As you ran into the House, you ignored the faint feeling of a tickle on your skin, as if one of his shadows was begging you to stay.

---

"Why are you wound so tight, brother?" Cassian teased, his sword clashing against Azriel's with easy precision. Az felt the clang of metal on metal ring through his forearms, a welcome pain to distract him from his frazzled thoughts.

"Nothing," Azriel grumbled as he readjusted his fighting stance. He and Cassian had been going at it for hours now, the sounds of their labored breathing mixing with the clashing of their swords.

Azriel could deny it all he wanted, but there was a good reason as to why he was so on edge. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the look of pain on your face after he had insulted you. The tears that had poured from your beautiful eyes had cut through him, as if someone had been stabbing him repeatedly with Truth-Teller.

He had wanted to run after you, to do or say whatever was required to get you to smile at him again. He would beg on his knees to hear your laughter once more, but now he had gone off and ruined it.

Azriel was scum.

Cassian barely side-stepped Azriel's next strike, his wings snapping behind him as the blade came dangerously close to cutting them. "Mother's tits, Az," Cassian hissed. "If you wanted to play dirty, all you had to do was tell me."

Cassian was already crouching down, a position that he only used on the battlefield when he was preparing to face off with an enemy. But Azriel held up his hands, dropping the sword onto the ground. He tried not to think of how he had chastised you for doing the same thing.

"I yield," he murmured, his shadows wrapping around his wings and shoulders, preparing to winnow him away if he so wished it.

Cass stood, his eyes blinking rapidly. "You? Yielding?" He chuckled lowly. He looked over to the Illyrian mountains in the distance, his gaze scanning along the frozen peaks. "Yep. Illyria appears to still be frozen, so the world isn't ending. What the fuck is up with you?"

Azriel glowered at his brother. "Nothing, Cassian. Just tired." He really didn't want to explain this whole situation, and especially not to someone as nosy as Cassian.

"Yeah. Nothing. Okay," Cassian murmured, padding over to the water station at the corner of the ring.

Azriel silently followed, his mind wandering to you. He prayed you would forgive him for his stupidity. You were still new to training, even though you had proven time and time again that you belonged here. You fought as good as anyone else, sometimes even rivaling Nesta in your hand-to-hand combat skills.

I would rather spend my time brooding than with a wanna-be Valkyrie who can't even focus.

The memory of his words caused him to flinch, which didn't go unnoticed by Cassian. He slammed down his water glass, the liquid sloshing onto the ground. "Alright," he snapped. "Cut the shit. Something is going on, and you aren't leaving this training ring until you tell me what it is."

Azriel's shadows were already swarming him, their soft whispers filling his ears as the started to take him away-

"And if you think those shadows can hide you from me, think again." Cassian's gaze softened for a moment, his hand coming to rest on Az's shoulder. "Tell me, brother. What's troubling you?"

Az blew out a breath, knowing that Cass wouldn't let it rest. "It's the new Valkyrie," he murmured, his arms folding around himself. "I was training her earlier, and I said some things I shouldn't have."

That was the understatement of the year, but Azriel kept the details of what he said to himself.

Cassian raised his brows as he leaned against the wall. "Ah. I see," he said, a grin forming on his face. "The one who can't seem to keep her wits about her when she's around you?"

Az blinked. "What do you mean?" Of course, he had noticed your tendency to zone out quite literally in the middle of training. He had watched in silent horror as that glazed-over look had formed in your eyes while Gwyn was holding a dagger next to your throat, the blade so close that it had nicked your skin.

He couldn't believe how someone could lack so much self-awareness, especially someone as kind and beautiful as you.

Wait. Kind and beautiful? Where had those thoughts come from? Azriel pondered that for a moment, slowly coming to the realization that perhaps his anger at your lack of focus had nothing to do with him wasting his time training someone who didn't care.

Maybe, just maybe, it was more than that. But he was too afraid to confront that right now.

Cassian clapped him on the shoulder. "For a spymaster, you seem to lack basic observation skills," he said with a chuckle. "I'll be sure to let Rhys know that you're losing your touch."

If Azriel had hackles, they would be raised right now.

"Hey," Cassian murmured, his voice soft. "I didn't mean to piss you off. You should apologize to her if what you said was that bad. She seems like a nice female, so I'm sure that she can find it in her heart to forgive you."

Azriel crossed his arms. He had never been good with apologies, so the thought of this was his own form of torture.

"Besides," Cassian continued on, draining the rest of his water, "maybe she'll just zone out and not pay attention to anything you say."

---

The stars were bright in the night sky, providing the only source of illumination in the otherwise dark training ring.

You fought to keep your breathing steady as you pummeled the punching back, your knuckles barking in protest as you put all of your strength behind each strike.

One, two. One, two. One, two.

You spoke through the movements in your mind like a mantra, your thoughts more focused than usual. You didn't have a problem with zoning out when you were alone, so you had decided that it was best to train like this.

Did the others think you were just a wanna-be Valkyrie? Did they think that you didn't care about being here?

Your punches became harder, more and more force behind them as your anger bubbled to the surface, your vision going red with rage-

"You're bending your wrist." The deep male voice echoed through the training ring, soft in nature but still carrying that condescending tone that had been haunting your waking thoughts for the last two days.

You did nothing to adjust yourself, proceeding to hit the bag the same way you had been all night. You chose to ignore the pain that had started to form in your wrist, just like you were going to ignore the male who had ruined your peaceful rage-punching.

Azriel sighed. "If you keep doing that, you're going to break something." His footsteps grew closer until they were right behind you. "Will you let me show you?"

You turned to face him then, not bothering to hide the rage plastered onto your features. "What? Finally decided that you wanted to help the poor, wanna-be Valkyrie? I am honored to be graced with the presence of such a powerful, siphoned-out warrior."

Azriel flinched, his wings twitching, his shadows swirling. "I did not mean to cause any offense," he whispered. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

You huffed. "Like you give a fuck. It would probably make you very happy to see me get my ass handed to me. You probably don't even want me here, so I'll just leave."

You turned, but Azriel's scarred hand stopped you. This close, you could smell his lovely scent of night-chilled mist and cedar, and you fought the urge to close your eyes and lean into it. He was so warm and strong, and you cursed the desire coursing through your veins.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft. "For what I said at training. I don't think you're a wanna-be Valkyrie. You are a Valkyrie. You've proven that a hundred times over."

You stared at him, mouth wide open. You had never heard him say so many words together, much less say more than one sentence at a time. In fact, the only time he really ever spoke to you was when he was offering words of instruction.

"I don't expect you to forgive me," Azriel continued on, his head dropping slightly. "Not right now, at least. I just wanted you to know that I didn't mean anything I said."

"Why did you say them, then?" you asked through gritted teeth. "Have you never heard of the saying 'If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all'?"

Despite everything, a grin formed on his full lips. "I've never heard of that before," he admitted, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks, still bright against his tan skin. "Perhaps I should put it into practice."

You rolled your eyes. "You still didn't answer my question."

"I said it because-" he broke off, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "I said it because I was afraid. Afraid of how often you zone out in the middle of training, of how you completely lose focus when your life is on the line." He took a step forward, so close now that you could feel his warmth radiating toward you.

"Do you know the horrible things that could happen to you if you zone out like that in battle?" His voice was low as he spoke, so low that you wondered if you could suddenly hear his shadows now. "Do you understand what that would do to me? Knowing that I have trained you as well as I could, but you didn't make it because you started daydreaming?"

Your heart stuttered inside your chest as he spoke, your eyes scanning across his face. You hadn't realized how obvious your zoning out had been, always hoping that nobody had noticed.

You had been so fucking wrong.

"Why do you do it?" he demanded, though his voice was still heartbreakingly soft. There was a sheen in his eyes as he spoke, and your chest tightened at the blatant display of emotions on his usual guarded face. "Why can't you focus, little Valkyrie?"

Little Valkyrie. The nicknamed warmed your heart, sending heat through your chilled bones.

You didn't want to admit the truth to him, but how could you deny it when he was standing before you, pleading with you?

"I zone out because of you," you said quietly, praying to the Mother that, for once, his Fae hearing would fail.

Azriel blinked, a choked laugh escaping him. "Because of me?" he asked, placing his scarred hands on his chest. "How do I make you nervous? Do I make you afraid? Fuck, I never meant to scare you-"

"Azriel." Your voice cut through his babbling like a knife. "You don't scare me. Quite the opposite actually." You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, looking to the ground as you spoke. "I get nervous around you because I like you. I get nervous because one of the strongest Illyrian warriors is training me, and I feel so small in comparison. It doesn't help that you're kind and funny when you're not insulting me."

Azriel stared at you in disbelief, his hazel eyes full of something like surprise and... awe. "You like me?" he asked, a boyish smile gracing his face. It looked so ridiculous on him, this dark warrior, but you decided you would do whatever you could to keep seeing it.

"I do," you responded with a nod. "I have for a while."

Azriel furrowed his brows, his shadows reaching out to play with a strand of your hair. "And you thought zoning out in the middle of our training would make me like you back?"

"It got your attention, didn't it?" you said.

"It worked," he responded, that stupid smile still on his face.

You let out a breath, relief washing through you. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I know it can have devastating consequences, and I would never zone out in the middle of a real battle."

Azriel chuckled. "Unless I'm there, apparently."

There was the arrogant asshole that you knew and loved.

You slapped playfully on the shoulder. "Train with me tonight," you said, nodding your head over to the swords hanging on the wall. "Let me show you how badly I can kick your ass when I don't zone out."

You knew you would never be able to accomplish such a feat, especially not with him. But you liked this side of him. The one that you could tease and taunt.

Az grabbed a sword and threw it to you. You caught it with one hand, raising it up as he grabbed a matching one. He stood before you, his wings tucked in, his legs braced apart.

He raised a finger, curling it slightly in the air. "Let's see what you've got, little Valkyrie."

general tag list: @quiet-loser @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria

@anarchiii @inkedinshadows @book-obsessed124

@scorpioriesling @olive-main @scarsandallaz

[safety-pin-punk]

hey queer nd teen here i've been really interested in punk culture and the message drives me to tears but i'm scared of being called a poser because i feel like a coward

i hate cops and i think they should fucking die and the government is fucked and we have to look after each other. but i feel backed into a corner because i'm surrounded by family who would laugh at me and just wouldn't understand and i don't feel like i can Handle it but i Want to

as a shy and nonconfrontational teen with a shit ton of anxiety to boot i dunno. i admire brave hardcore punks who beat up cops and nazis but i Can't Be That

no need for a response but it would be nice

When I was a teen, I was told by my best friend that I could never be a punk. That I would never be a punk. But here I am. I was a shy quiet kid, and I’m still pretty quiet and prefer to avoid confrontations when I can. My point is, these things don’t prevent people from being a punk if its in their nature

Not all punks are the big tough punks who can physically fight those fights. Though they are a very important part of our community. But we also have plenty of disabled, neurodivergent, and chronically ill people who are just as punk, and even people who are just not into violence. They are advocates, they are researchers, they are community care takers. Being a punk isnt all about fighting evil. I actually think thats not the best way to look at it at all. Being punk is about caring for your community. And while ‘fighting evil’ is a part of it, there are a lot more things that entails.

If you truly want to be a punk, it seems like you are already going down the right path. You alluded to a not so great home life where it might not be the best idea to dress in alternative styles. You could always start with smaller, more subtle things. Or you can just wait until you can move out to start exploring that. Remember, being punk is more than just an aesthetic, and while the aesthetic may look cool, it is by no means a requirement to be a punk (honestly half the time I run around it cowboy boots and a flannel - in the winter I usually add the hat too)

You are a teen still. Growing and learning about yourself and the world around you. And so are your peers. Any teen who calls you a poser is being a jerk and doesn’t know all that much about the scene. Any grown adult that calls you a poser is probably a poser themselves who refuses to acknowledge that not every person comes from the same background. But I also feel like it’s important to tell you that what anyone else says shouldnt matter that much. Even if it feels like it does, if you let their words matter to you, you are giving them all the control.

Its okay to be young and not know a lot. Its okay to not dress alternative for any number of reasons. Its okay to not feel like you could go off and fight bad people. None of those things make you a poser.

[moonfoxgazer]

It could be considered sad, perhaps, how things must happen for things to continue on the correct path, consider how it could be comparable to that of the work of a ranch-hand as they guide the herd towards the best pastures. Occasionally they must make a difficult decision which may or may not require a sacrifice, some of the herd may not make it, but ultimately it is for the best possible outcome for the whole.

*insert that one song with tears falling down at the party and being the saddest baby in the room* I've been playing with the whole cowboy Danny Phantom idea for awhile now. If ya'll are curious about designs and meaning feel free to read below. Don't fret, I have more cowboy stuff stewing in the stock pot, but the potatoes aren't soft enough yet so ya'll have to wait a bit more.

For Danno So design choices are taking Southwestern outfitting and combining it a little with the Ghost King stuff too, such as the Crown of Fire becoming akin to a hat band (which nicer hat bands and sometimes feathers are often earned within ranch-hand and rodeo cultures) and then the Ring of Rage becomes the Bolo of Rage, heh. And naturally the kiddo's insignia becomes a belt buckle because those are earned for sure and usually goes with the outfit. Now for CW

I based a lot of his design off more outrider/ outlaw designs while keeping the feeling of his original outfit. So his cloak remained but shorter and a little more ragged, which many travelers back then would have some sort of cloak or coat, depending on region, money and circumstance, fighters usually went with looser clothing so it was easier to move and access weapons. Of course you have the bandolier, which was used mostly to carry more ammo. The rifle CW is carrying is loosely based off a Winchester Model 1873 Smoothbore Rifle, which was a common rifle type in the late 1800s. Of course I had to reference the medallions with an engraving in the butt of the rifle, which carvings and decorations on firearms were common during the time, with many carving the decorations themselves during downtime, and well, we know how CW is about his branding. The last bit that really could stand out is his belt buckle, which is of course decorative and based off Dine Silver and Turquoise jewelry with a common blossom pattern in the center. Being from the southwest, there's a lot of things about life out here, both in the past and present that require sacrifice and that's something that resonates a lot with DP honestly. It's a theme I like playing with a bit when it comes to the idea of the southwest. It's why Danny looks melancholy and withdrawn here and CW in his typical aloof nature is more, neutral. If ya'll read through all this, congrats, you didn't get caught in a cactus, ya'll are awesome.

[kanencrow]

I love the way you write Lucy!!!!! Can I please request a fluff (with slight angst) found family platonic fic with Lucy where they meet in the wasteland and build a sibling-like bond?

Bond Over Blood - Lucy Maclean | Headcanon

Summary: What would a sibling-like relationship with Lucy Maclean look like after the two of you find each other on the surface?

Warnings: Swearing, Blood, Descriptions of Violence, Suturing Wounds, Talks of Death, Reader is Lowkey Kinda Awkward (same bro).

A/N: Awe hey, thanks Jamie! Sorry this one took so long to come out, but I hope you enjoy it! Definitely wrote this one following the original plot of the show, so spoilers incoming!

Word Count: 10000+

You met Lucy after getting into a physical altercation with a few Brotherhood of Steel soldiers, who seemed like they wanted nothing more than to lay their hands on anyone they could find. You just so happened to be one of those people, unfortunately, after you got nosy and fixed a loose wire in one of those suits of armor that they hid within for the sake of making themselves feel more powerful. You dabbled a bit in electronics, so you knew your way around anything that sparked or required some sort of technology in order for it to run, but instead of them being appreciative of what you did, they pummeled you, which left you unconscious and carrying some long-standing wounds.

Maybe you also killed one of them, and that was why they knocked you out, but that’s besides the point – you were just defending yourself. Really, the fact of the matter was that they hurt you, and you woke up in a world of pain that you had no choice but to live with until it decided to dissipate into nothing. So, your first few days of your road to recovery were spent wandering the barren wasteland that you grew up in, and by the time you were starting to develop an irreversible hatred towards the Brotherhood of Steel and everything they stood for, you simultaneously found a Super-Duper Mart in the middle of the desert. 

It made you feel like you were hallucinating, almost.

Like you were seeing a mirage. 

But, low and behold, the building was there, caked in sand and looking as dilapidated as every other landmark or point of interest you saw on the surface. And within that grocery store, you found Lucy, but not before stepping over – what you thought was – a dead body of a ghoul who clearly wanted to be a cowboy, considering the hat that laid beside him, and the fact that he was wearing a trench coat that had seen better days. But honestly, with the way he was wheezing and on the ground, unmoving, you thought he was turning feral, so you just stepped over him and continued forth. 

Traversing through the seemingly abandoned building proved to be pretty… eventful.

The thumping of your boots against the floor added on as an ambient resonation, and the way they echoed throughout the air only seemed to signify the lack of life that resided within. You continued walking, even then, intent on finding something that you could stuff into the backpack that hung over your shoulders. All it carried inside was a box of medical supplies, a large bottle of purified water that you bought off of a merchant, a bag of Rad-Away, and five stimpacks that you – thankfully – hadn’t used yet. 

Obviously, you were packed a little light. 

After a while of walking, you eventually turned a corner and ambled down an aisle that consisted of freezers. Surprisingly, the lights were on, as though power still existed due to the function of a generator, and your curiosity only seemed to increase in response. At the same time, you felt a hint of trepidation hit you like a needle, and you tightened your grip on the pistol in your hands, as you lifted it up slightly, raring to shoot something if you needed to. 

You had enough experience to know that anything could have been lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce when you least expected it to. There had been countless close calls that scraped by in your time of life, and so you knew better than to assume that places were completely empty of life. And, by the time you made it to the end of the hallway that was lined with the cold boxes, you were happy to have made the mental note, when you looked to your left, and abruptly slowed down to a halt, as you spotted the form of a woman in blue, who didn’t notice your presence while she tugged off a dead person's boot with a quiet grunt that managed to echo throughout the vicinity. 

Well, okay, you weren’t expecting that.

Your lips faintly parted, and you made the executive decision to slowly walk towards her. You noticed the number ‘33’ on the back of her blue suit, and it wasn’t difficult to figure out that she was a vault dweller… unless she stole the outfit off of one. She rose up to her full height and clumsily shoved the boot onto her foot, and you continued to sneak towards her, as you tilted your head to the side and watched her curiously. You wondered how she had lost her original shoe in the first place, but you mainly wondered why someone from a vault would be roaming the upper world. 

From what you knew, they had everything down underground, to the point where you were envious of their lifestyle. To willfully roam around the wasteland seemed like a stupid idea, but you digressed. You were far too focused on the array of dead bodies that lined the floor to truly ponder it, anyway. Ghouls and two humans, with only one standing. It was an odd sight, and one that made you intentionally clear your throat, with the intention of catching the mysterious woman’s attention. 

You weren’t surprised when she jumped in reaction to the sound you made, and when she turned around, you were met with wide eyes and a face that had been kissed by the sun. You couldn’t see perfectly, with how far she was from you and how your optic nerve had been damaged from your previous incident, but from what you could gather, she seemed no worse for wear. You paused for a moment, as if to gauge what she was wanting to do in response to your presence, and you were immensely surprised, when she let out a seemingly relieved exhale at the sight of you. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” she muttered, as you continued to hold your pistol tightly between your palms. You stared at her oddly, like she had two heads, but she was ignorant to your apprehension, when she stepped forward to try and lessen the distance. However, before she could get very far, you lifted your gun up and pointed it at her, which forced her to come to halt, as she raised her hands up quickly and parted her lips to yell out, “Please, don’t shoot!” 

The intention you portrayed wasn’t one you were genuinely going to go through with, but only you knew that. You couldn’t have been too sure about people’s intentions, and so you slowly walked towards her, as your eyes watched her, like that of a hawk. You were silent, not feeling the need to speak, and a part of you wanted to keep it that way, just to add onto the mysterium, as you flickered your pupils across her body to scrutinize her. Her black hair was in a ponytail, with her shorter bangs framing her face – she was pretty, you couldn’t deny it, even with the remnants of crimson that dotted across her features like violent stars.

The white tank top that peeked out from the unzipped part of her blue suit had splatters of blood on it, too, and the left bicep of her outfit was torn, as if she had been cut there… or shot. Clearly, she had been through it – you weren’t an idiot. But still, you felt the need to take the precaution, before you eventually faltered in your hesitancy, and lowered your weapon to holster it back into the waistband of your pants. 

At your sudden change in demeanor, the vault dweller visibly relaxed, and her arms dropped down from their raised position. In that moment, you noticed the discolored index finger that she had, and you mindlessly eyed it with curiosity, before she was speaking up, and forcing you to look back towards her again. “U-Uh, hi,” she greeted you, as though she were being interviewed, and you were the one who decided if she was going to be hired or not. “Thank you… for not shooting me.” 

She slowly walked towards you when you didn’t respond immediately after her words, and you shifted in your stance uncomfortably, as her eyes studied you, instead of the other way around. Of course, her focus lingered on your face, more than anything, and your jaw clenched tightly in turn when her expression softened. You half-expected her to point it out, but she didn’t, and only shifted her subtle frown into a small smile, as she tried to portray warmth and friendliness, which felt entirely unwarranted and unfamiliar. “I’m Lucy.” 

You stared at the woman named Lucy for a long, silent moment, with nothing other than your bruised features to showcase your emotions. You were certain you looked absolutely dreadful, with the way her eyes continued to flit across your face, and although you wanted to snap at her, there was a hint of genuine concern behind the action, while you gazed at her mutely. And honestly, that was all you could do, because you weren’t sure what to say, if you were being honest with yourself. 

Should you have introduced yourself back? Reached a hand out for her to shake, with a smile to truly butter her up? What were formalities nowadays that didn’t consist of not shooting someone? All you were able to do in the end of your mental battle was swallow the lump of dryness in your throat, before you nodded at her gently and pressed your lips together, giving her the simplest greeting you could muster. “Hi.” 

Her expression immediately shifted into one of brightness, when she grinned softly at you, showing off her teeth, which were whiter than most dwellers of the surface. They cared more about survival than basic hygiene, which wasn’t something you could have related to, ever. “Hi,” she suddenly cooed out, as if she were talking to a scared animal. It wasn’t far off from how you had been feeling the past few days, but you shockingly weren’t as fearful now, in comparison to moments earlier. Maybe it was her natural charm, or the fact that she didn’t want to beat the shit out of you. 

Either way, her behavior was welcomed, and you felt the corners of your lips quirk up in reaction to her kindness, which caused her to step closer to you, the moment she spotted your comfortability. “I take it you’re not a part of this… whatever this is?” she questioned you, as she glanced away from you to look around the vicinity of the grocery mart. You shook your head in reply when her attention fell back onto you, and she relaxed even more – if that was possible – as she nodded. “Okay… good.” 

When you didn’t reply, and instead moved your eyes down to the ripped hole on Lucy’s left bicep, you faintly quirked your lip, before you lifted your hand up and lazily gestured towards her arm. “You’re hurt,” you uttered, as if she herself hadn’t known of her own injury, and in response, she immediately glanced down to her arm and clicked her tongue, nodding her head in agreement to your statement. You knew it was obvious – that she probably was already aware, but you didn’t know what else to say other than that, which seemed to work more in your favor than anything else, when you shifted in your spot once more and fidgeted with your fingers. “I can help… with your arm,” you stated simply, with a quiet voice that she wouldn’t have heard, if the grocery store wasn’t so quiet. 

“Oh,” Lucy hummed softly, as her lips parted in subtle shock towards your bluntness. She looked at you thoughtfully for a moment, before she glanced down at her wound again and lifted a palm up to set it over the hole in her suit, wincing faintly, “I mean – can you?” she asked, as if the question was one that was going to inconvenience you. However, you immediately nodded your head, holding back from creasing your brow, due to the painful wounds that sat across your face. 

Even then, she appreciated your willingness, not caring about your micro-expressions like you did, and when she chuckled softly in relief, you stepped past her and walked towards the sofas, which caused her to immediately turn around and follow you, as she quickened her pace slightly, just to make it to your side again. “T-Thank you, by the way,” she called gently, “it’s… been a rough week.” 

That was something you could relate with her on. 

“You and me both,” you mumbled, as you let out a humorless scoff and shrugged off your backpack. You swung it around and tossed it onto the sofa with a lack of care, as Lucy came up beside you and slowly settled down on the cushion. It didn’t take long for her to lift her chin and stare up at you shortly after, but you were none the wiser, as you continued standing and unzipped your bag. 

You sifted through the confines of the practically empty sack, which allowed you to easily find your purified water bottle, as well as the medical kit that you – luckily – hadn’t had stolen from you yet. You set the two items off to the side without much more than a simple glance, and the vault dweller continued to gaze at you with internalized curiosity, as you gripped the top strap of your carryall and dropped it on the floor, in front of the couch. It made a quiet thump in turn, but you ignored the sound entirely, while you sat down on the plush surface and pulled your supplies into your lap. 

There was a particular coordination to how you moved, Lucy noticed. You were precise and careful – and quiet – and it only urged her on to try and make conversation. “So… what’s your name?” You reminded her of her brother Norm: silent and observant. Though, you didn’t really look anything like him, she thought. You carried an aura of distrust and aloofness that made her want to pick you apart – in a good way, but she had no idea on how she could have done that without making it seem as though she were interrogating you. 

Especially in regards to the question that she wanted to ask, after you introduced yourself. She wasn’t ignorant to your face and the way it looked. How around your right eye was swollen and the whites of it were red due to popped blood vessels that were entirely benign. The rest of your face was just as bruised, and you carried a small gash, as well as numerous cuts on it, which only furthered her wonder on what you had been up to, before you encountered her. 

Still, even with her heavy curiosity, she gave you all the time in the world to answer, as you unclipped the medical box and opened it up to expose the numerous supplies within it. “Y/n,” you eventually replied, keeping your verbiage simple and short, while you kept your eyes entirely focused on the assortment of items that sat on your thighs. 

You immediately spotted what you were looking for – a needle and a thread, as well as peroxide to help disinfect the cut, and when you grabbed them, you set the white kit to the side and scooted closer to her, as you lifted your head and turned it towards her to finally meet her irises. “My name is Y/n,” you repeated quietly, assuming that she hadn’t heard you the first time, when she immediately lifted her brow and shifted her features into an expression of sudden understanding. 

“Oh,” Lucy stated, “Y/n” She nodded her head, as her eyebrows furrowed in thought, and she stared at you as though you were something immensely interesting. “That’s a nice name,” she admitted, before giving you a small smile. “I like it… it suits you.” The softness in her green eyes was apparent, and you found yourself unconsciously shying away from her kindness, when you flickered your pupils down to stare at her bicep and blindly uncapped the hydrogen peroxide that you had mindlessly pulled into your lap. 

She was awfully earnest, with the way you could feel her staring at you, even after you sheepishly avoided her gaze and focused on sewing up the wound on her arm. Her personality was a complete one-eighty from what you had dealt with when it came to the people you met throughout your time on the surface. You didn’t know how to react to her genuineness, and she seemed to gather that, while you poured the transparent liquid onto a cotton ball and tensed your jaw awkwardly, not knowing how to continue the conversation. 

Naturally, she took the reins, as she allowed you to slip your hand underneath her arm and angle it up slightly, just so that you had a better view of her gash. Your touch was gentle – overly careful, and she couldn’t help the small smile that creeped up onto her lips, as she watched you tentatively dab away the blood that surrounded it. You treated her delicately. It was a welcomed contrast to how she had been treated for the past week, and with the way your features were bruised and battered, it wasn’t difficult to understand that you might have needed some much desired tenderness and care. 

Though the fact that you were more focused on her, rather than the wellbeing of yourself, said a lot. A part of her wanted to pipe up and ask you to accompany her on the journey she had set herself on, but she had a feeling that would have been too abrupt, too soon. Especially for someone like you. Someone who seemed easily dissuaded, like that of a wounded, scared wolf. Your demeanor only encouraged her to speak up, but she made an intentional effort to keep her voice soft, so as to not mess up your precise movements. 

“So, what brings you around here?” Lucy asked, as she tilted her head to the side and glanced down to gaze at your fingers. They worked to dab more of the peroxide into the actual wound, and with how gentle you were being, it didn’t hurt. It made her heart swell, and all that did was put into perspective how much she missed the helpful souls that didn’t want to kidnap her or kill her... or torture her. 

“Do you… live close?” Her additional question seemed to snap you out of your concentrated state, which forced you to lift your eyes away from her injury and meet her own gaze. The blood-red white of your right iris really made you look terrible, and as much as she wanted to do the same for you as you were doing for her, she resisted from reaching out and checking you over, knowing that would have been weird or unwelcome. Especially from a stranger. 

“I don’t live anywhere,” you admitted quietly, keeping your eyes connected with her own for a moment longer, before you eventually shifted your focus back down to your lap, and grabbed a threaded needle to suture her gash. While you raised your hand back up and lined up the first point you were going to stick the slim metal piece into, you parted your lips slightly and added on, just to try and keep her attention away from what you were about to do. You had a feeling it wasn’t going to work as well as you hoped, but you made the effort anyway, as you pushed into her skin and spoke at the same time. 

“I came from Filly after an… encounter… and just so happened to stumble across this place,” you explained, while she grunted softly and winced at your action. The pin-prick pain that seemed to bloom throughout her gash was enough to make her squirm, but she tried to stay as still as possible, while she listened to your words with genuine interest. “I didn’t expect to find anyone inside, though.” 

Lucy bit her lower lips as the thin thread attached to the needle dragged through the small hole it created, slowly closing up the bottom of the wound. All the while, the memory of the man that brought her to the grocery store filled her mind, and she couldn’t help but spring onto your earlier statement, even while she winced at your tendful actions to her injury. “Did you see a… someone, before you walked in?” she questioned, wondering if that ghoul still lingered around the store, mindlessly waiting for whatever it was he requested in exchange for her. 

The same feeling of bitterness filled her chest at the reminder of him, and when she turned her head to gauge your reaction, you nodded in reply to her inquiry, which forced a disgruntled scoff to slip from her mouth, while you pushed the needle back into her skin, causing her to flinch subtly. “You know, that… that creature… he brought me here,” she clarified, providing you with information that managed to allow you to mentally put two and two together. “He did not treat me very courteously.” 

“Really?” you replied, attempting to flit your attention towards two things at once, as you progressed higher up the length of her gash. You glanced up momentarily to meet her eyes, and when she nodded her head, you faintly furrowed your brow and quirked your lip thoughtfully, “He was on the ground when I walked inside of the mart,” you admitted softly, before you flickered your focus back down towards your task at hand. In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not having done anything in that moment, but he was a ghoul, you thought. 

You were never able to tell when they were shifting into a feral one or not, and you definitely didn’t want to be on the receiving end of their aggression, if the former possibility actually came true. “He was still alive… just struggling to breathe, it seemed.” Maybe it was a good thing you didn’t do anything to aid him, however, considering what you were being told by the vault dweller. You trusted her, far more than a decaying, tough-skinned, radiated human. 

“He was not nice,” Lucy stated, nodding her head, as if she agreed with your decision, “when I pointed out that he wasn’t following the Golden Rule, he put a leash around my neck and he made me drink from puddle water that I’m pretty sure was just some kind of animal pee.” Your features flinched without you even realizing, and you winced when a subtle throb coursed through your nose in turn. You immediately stopped your movements on her arm, and she seemed to take notice of your action, when she looked at you and met your eyes. 

You internally took a moment to let the pain you felt pass, and she eventually continued when you only portrayed that you were fully listening to what she had to say. “And I thought I was here to be a sex slave, but – turns out – this-this robot wanted to harvest my organs instead, and I-I don’t know which one is worse!” Her exclamation caused her voice to raise in pitch, still underlined with the raspiness that it naturally exuded, and as much as you didn’t want to, you found yourself growing concerned in response to all of the information she gave you. 

“You drank radiated water,” you stated, as you gazed at her intently, “that’s not good.” You glanced back down towards her halfway sewn gash, and when you continued threading the needle through her skin, she let out a quiet groan, as she stared at you quizzically in response to your words. You could feel her eyes burning into your head, and without much convincing, you expounded, as you licked your lips and parted them to speak transparently. “Up in the wasteland, it’s purified water, or nothing,” you told her, as you nodded towards the large bottle of liquid that sat between the two of you. 

“If you drink anything that isn’t purified, then you’ll need Rad-Away, or Rad-X, which allows you to become somewhat immune to the radiation of the surface.” You lifted the thin, curved metal pin and pushed it through her flesh again, making her hiss, while you continued. “Are you feeling okay? Usually when you drink radiated water, you start to feel lightheaded and nauseous,” you clarified, “they’re the two most common symptoms.” 

Lucy stared at you as though you might have been the smartest human being she had ever met, with parted lips and a subtle look of shock that lined her features. You inevitably finished sewing her gash closed shortly after your entire rundown, and as you leaned back slightly to grab a cotton roll of thin bandaging, you lifted your eyes up to meet her hazel ones, which forced her to snap out of her surprised stupor. “Oh, um… no,” she eventually replied, before she blinked and sent you a small smile, “I… I think I’m fine. I don’t feel any of the side effects you’re telling me.” 

You nodded in acknowledgement, and you ended the topic of conversation at that, as you wrapped the start of the cloth underneath her bicep, which caused your fingers to graze against her skin with a softness that made goosebumps form on her arms. You were none the wiser to the effects your touch had on her, but she was, as she swallowed the thick lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, and promptly spoke up, with the intention of ignoring whatever it was that she was feeling. “So, um… what do you have planned after all of this?” 

You coiled the bandaging around Lucy’s arm without much difficulty, and as you taped the tail end of the cloth to stay wrapped around her bicep, you let go of her entirely, before you lifted your eyes up to meet her own and shrugged. “I don’t have anything planned,” you admitted, not feeling the need to lie, as you reached down and grabbed a small rag from the medical kit, as well as the bottle of purified water that pressed against your leg. 

“Not when it comes to a destination, at least,” you added on, as you silently handed her the two items and gestured towards your face with the silent statement of ‘clean yourself up.’ With a thankful smile, she grabbed the supplies out of your grasp, while you watched her studiously and brought your hands back to your lap to fidget with your fingers. “What about you?” you questioned her, as you tilted your head to the side quizzically, “What’s a vault dweller like you doing out here in the wasteland?” 

“Oh,” Lucy uttered, as she wetted the rag you had given her with the water, and brought it up to her face to blindly wipe away the splattered dots of blood that riddled her sun-kissed features. “I’m actually looking for my dad,” she explained, which caused a glint of surprise to shine in your eyes, as they widened slightly in confusion. “A group of raiders, well, raided our vault, you see,” she told you softly, as she dabbed at her upper lip, “this woman named Lee Moldaver kidnapped my father, and I couldn’t just stand by and let her steal my dad away from me.” She shrugged her shoulders and dropped the damp cloth down to her lap, as she turned her head to look at you, “Someone had to do something, so… here I am.” 

You slowly nodded your head and pressed your lips together thoughtfully, “That’s… really admirable.” Lucy grinned at you in reply, and you felt your cheeks heat up, now that your full attention was on her. You couldn’t deny that she had a certain charm to the way she carried herself. Maybe that was natural for a vault dweller, but it was something you greatly lacked, when you shied away from her gaze again and promptly pushed yourself up to your feet. 

Immediately, her curiosity grew, and she creased her brow while she watched you close your medical box and shove it back into the confines of your bag. She still held the damp – now slightly bloody – rag in her hand, and when you reached down to grab the water bottle and dropped it back into the emptiness that was your backpack, you spoke up. “Good luck to you, Lucy.” You zipped your rucksack up, as you sent her a suppressed nod, “Stay safe out there.” 

When you gripped the strap and hoisted it onto your shoulder, you winced painfully, while Lucy internally panicked and shot up from her spot on the couch to stop you. “Well, wait!” She reached her hand out and grasped your left wrist, halting you from going anywhere, and with the way her fingers twined around your joint with a tightness that felt familiar, you immediately tensed in response, as you snapped your head towards her and stared at her warily, almost like you were afraid she was going to attack you. 

The events of what happened not even a full week ago still weighed heavily on your conscience, and although she wasn’t aware of it, she gathered your uncomfortability immediately, and suddenly let go of you, as she parted her lips and stammered to say something. “Listen, I… I know we just met and all, but… why don’t you come with me?” she asked, looking at you hopefully, as her eyebrows rose, “I could use someone who knows their way around this wasteland and… I think you’d be good company, Y/n.” 

That was the last thing you were expecting her to say, but you couldn’t ignore the way it made your stomach flutter, especially with the way she stared at you, with that same genuine softness she gave you earlier. You didn’t have anywhere you intended to go, and it wasn’t as though you had anything better to do, but nonetheless, you still hesitated to say yes, even if you wanted to deep down. You mindlessly grasped your wrist that she had grabbed, and you glanced down in thought at her proposal, while your thumb rubbed over the bone of your joint, and you bit the inside of your cheek. “I… don’t know…” you trailed off, and at your verbal uncertainty, she slowly stepped closer to you, and rested her palm on your upper arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Come on,” she uttered, looking at you pleadingly, “there’s no catch here.” Her own thumb rubbed the fabric that sat over your bicep, and although you weren’t sure, her physical touch still managed to somehow slightly sway you. It shouldn’t have, you thought, but it felt nice to experience a gentleness that you hadn’t felt in a long while. So, maybe you wanted to agree, just so you could gain more of the tender expressions she sent your way. 

Maybe you also liked the idea of being around her, because she acted as a breath of fresh air, in comparison to all of the other companions you had journeyed with in the past. Maybe it was her eyes, too, and the way she gazed into your own with a silent promise that she wasn’t going to betray your trust, or hurt you for no reason. It was as though she were looking through a window that allowed her to see your soul for what it was. It was like she just knew what had happened with you, just from a vague explanation and the apparent bruises and wounds that sat on your face. 

It was difficult, battling with your mind and attempting to decide on whether or not you should have accompanied her, but all she had done throughout the time you patched her up and spoke to her was prove to you that she was trustworthy, and didn’t have an evil bone in her body. She wasn’t a Brotherhood of Steel soldier, but a simple vault dweller, who clearly carried more morality than any of the survivors on the surface who labeled themselves a saint. And you had met a lot who did, which only managed to showcase whose brain had been consumed by radiation, and those who hadn’t. 

“Okay,” you eventually muttered, as you rubbed your thumb over the bone of your wrist again, still somewhat nervous. And when her hopeful expression shifted into one of relief at your simple agreement, you felt a weight slip off of your shoulders, while the corners of your lips quirked up faintly, and you smiled small. “I’ll come with you.”

You didn’t regret your choice to follow her, that was for sure. 

And sure, at first, you couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t somewhat distrusting, even if she had made herself seem like a decent individual who didn’t want to do you any harm. But you couldn’t really help it. Especially when you and her stumbled across a Brotherhood of Steel soldier named Maximus, who you did not like at all whatsoever. He was stuck in a power armor suit, and you tried your damndest to get her to leave him, but she said something about the Golden Rule to you, before ultimately helping the guy out.

You definitely didn’t appreciate that. 

But you lived with it, even if you loathed the Brotherhood of Steel with every fiber of your being. At least you were with Lucy, and at least you knew she wasn’t going to hurt you. You couldn’t be so sure about Maximus, so you kept your distance as much as humanly possible, even after he mentioned that he wasn’t going to harm you. However, that only went so far. Because all your past experiences made the process of instilling your trust into new people immensely difficult, so it made total sense for you to act overly uncertain towards everyone you met. 

But after traveling with Lucy for some time, you certainly started to come around. 

You still weren’t so sure about Maximus, though.

Surprisingly, he kind of understood. 

Lucy’s kind-hearted nature and big-sister mentality in the way she addressed you was something you found comfort in, so of course it became easy to trust her. Like in how she tended to your lingering wounds, not even a week after you first started roaming the surface with her. Or how she let you stay with her in her personally picked room when that whole… cult in a vault thing happened. That was after you all encountered a duo of Fiends who used rotting teeth as bullets, which – granted – you knew already, but you had never been shot by one, so that… that was pretty interesting.

Naturally, it forced you to stay at that vault for a day or so, before you, Lucy, and Maximus hightailed it out of there. Cults were certainly not your thing, or anyone’s for that matter. Definitely not when the person they worshipped was the same woman your newfound friend had been searching for. And by the time the three of you left the place, she told you about her secondary search for a severed head, which also didn’t really surprise you, considering you had taken a job once upon a time that consisted of transferring someone’s hand from point A to point B. 

Unsurprisingly, Maximus was also looking for the head.

Either way, Lucy was shocked when you simply nodded along and agreed to tag along with her on her mission. It only made her more curious about you, wanting to know all the things you’ve gotten up to on the surface, and considering the long journey the two of you had ahead of you, you didn’t find yourself hesitating to talk. For the first time, you were the one who carried the conversation, while she listened intently and with a small, interested smile on her face. Maximus was too busy scouting ahead to listen in at the time, but honestly, you preferred it like that.

“Fought a deathclaw once…” 

A sudden gasp escaped Lucy at your words, and you felt the corner of your lip curling up into an amused smirk, as you turned your head towards her and met her hazel eyes, which shined with shock and awe. “What? No way,” she disagreed, stuck in a bout of disbelief, but you could only nod, silently telling her that you were – in fact – telling the truth. It only made her let out a baffled scoff, before she creased a brow in confusion, “How are you still alive? I’ve read about deathclaws,” she stated, “and nine times out of ten, when you find one, they’re the last thing you see.” 

“Guess I’m the lucky one, then,” you replied, your tone conveying a subtle smugness to it, as you shrugged your shoulders and mindlessly lifted your hand to rest it against the handle of your gun that sat in your holster. “I can thank the fragmentation mines that I had in my pack for getting me out of that situation,” you added on, chuckling quietly, “because if I didn’t have those, that thing would’ve torn me apart.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Lucy replied, as if she were saying ‘duh’ with the tone she used. “When you said you had ‘many stories’ about your time on the surface, I was not expecting you to bring up a time you almost got mauled by a deathclaw.” 

Your close calls with deathclaws, mirelurks, or any of the other dangerous creatures that lurked on the surface weren’t the only stories you told to Lucy, either. One night, at a fire, while Maximus slept soundly on the ground, you were stuck having to recall the time you almost died due to your own gullible nature, when you were younger. At the age of fifteen, you found yourself getting into ties with a group of bandits that lacked a moral compass, much to the vault dwellers dismay. Explaining to her that you had to kill innocent people when you were nothing but a kid was a harder feat than you thought.

“Wasn’t like I wanted to do it,” you quietly admitted, as you stared down at the purified water that sat in a beer bottle that you cut in half to act as a cup. You held it tightly in your hand, twisting your wrist slightly to force the liquid to swirl around smoothly within the clear glass. You made sure to completely avoid Lucy’s stare from across the fire, and she could easily gather that, when her features faintly scrunched up in sympathy. “I was just a kid.”

“That’s…” Lucy’s voice trailed off the moment she tried to speak, and you immediately breathed in deeply, as if to brace yourself, while you lifted your chin and looked up to finally meet her eyes from across the way, “you were a kid.” That was all she could say, in the end. And then she nodded her head, before she glanced down towards her own glass of water and creased her brow. “It’s not right, but you regret it now, don’t you?” 

“Of course I do,” you mumbled, only to let out a scoff, before you snapped your focus away from her face to look away, at nothing in particular, “still can’t take it back, though.” You didn’t mean for your tone to come off as sharply as it did, but you couldn’t help your own frustration. Especially because you wanted to be seen as good, or at least, somewhat moral in the eyes of the woman you’ve been traveling with. “But I thought you should know. It’s not a pretty part of my life, but at least I’m telling you something.” 

“And the scar?” Lucy suddenly questioned, her tone careful.

You swallowed, before your eyes flickered down to the jagged scar that sat on the back of your left palm. Shaped like an ‘X’, and healing poorly in just how visible it was to the naked eye. “Well, I mean…” you paused to shrug your shoulders, “obviously, it got to a point where I didn’t want to kill innocent people anymore,” you uttered, “or be a part of their group, for that matter.” You flickered your attention back up to look at Lucy again. “They didn’t like that.” 

Lucy’s expression shifted into one of pained shock, “So they…?” You nodded your head, the action slow and precise, and when your newfound friend caught your silent response, she felt her chest tighten, while her body started moving without a second thought. Standing up from the desert floor the two of you had found yourselves resting on, her boots scuffed against the grain, and she quickly rounded around the makeshift campfire. 

“What are you–?”

You were cut off when Lucy plummeted to her knees and engulfed you in a hug that felt like an umbrella of warmth and comfort. Arms wrapped around your right shoulder, pulling your left into the middle of her chest, while her chin plopped atop the crown of your head, and she squeezed you tightly. It made you feel like you were being suffocated, but the feeling of claustrophobia and discomfort didn’t come to you, even if your face didn’t necessarily look as though you were appreciative of the sudden affection.

As the silence engulfed the two of you, you swallowed, feeling your cheeks heat up out of embarrassment at the vulnerability that seemed to take up the atmosphere, and after a few too many minutes passed, you finally cleared your throat. It was the way to convey that she could pull away, and you were thankful when she did. Although, you were expecting her to step away and walk back to where she was originally sitting, but instead, she maneuvered to linger beside you instead, as her shoulder brushed up against yours, and she nudged you lightly with her knee.

“I know you probably hated every second of that hug, but I felt like you might’ve needed one,” she mumbled, while your eyes flickered back down towards your cup of water, and you slowly lifted it up to allow yourself to take a measly sip of the fluid. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Y/n,” she added on, as you quietly listened to her, still thrown off from what had just happened, “no fifteen year old should have to go through something like that.” 

It didn’t take long for you to eventually swallow down the small sip you took, and when you dropped the cup down onto your thigh, still holding it tightly, you slowly nodded your head, before you turned your face towards her and sent her a small smile. “Thanks for that,” you softly replied, “I can’t remember the last time I got a hug from someone, so… yeah.” You let out a slightly embarrassed huff, and your focus on her was swift to avert, when you set your attention onto the fire, “You’re a good person, Lucy.” 

Lucy smiled at you gently, “So are you, Y/n.” 

That conversation in itself was the thing that defined your relationship with Lucy. It was one full of silent understanding and loyalty that neither of you intended to lose for one another. It only made navigating your journey towards Moldaver easier, and it allowed you to open up a bit more, considering you had always been a little closed off in your affections and communication. In a way, you started to become her own personal guard dog. With knowing the surface and the things that lurked throughout it, you designated yourself as the expendable one, even if she herself hated that particular label. 

So, of course, you made sure to never outwardly call yourself that.

Especially not when she was around.

Eventually, your journey with Lucy came to an end when the two of you finally managed to intercept Lee. After jumping through hoops to get a weird head from a Brotherhood of Steel soldier that had turned into a ghoul – much to your appreciation, considering your dislike towards the entire group, you and her continued on, but not before Maximus parted ways with the two of you to try and confuse his faction, considering they had been called in. It was admirable, in a way. To see him take on the responsibility of diverting his groups course for the sake of helping you and the vault dweller in completing your quest.

It made you start to hate him a little less.

Only a little, though.

Inevitably, you and Lucy found a decently fortified community, after you retreated from Maximus and the ghoul soldier who was internally freaking out about his predicament. Two old, clearly non-working cars lined the sheet-metal doors that led into Moldaver’s home, and with the catwalk sitting above the entrance, you weren’t ignorant to the people carrying weapons, waiting to strike at any given moment.

It was obvious that the head Lucy carried was the thing that kept you and her from getting a bullet to the skull. Surprisingly enough, they didn’t decide to take your weapons when they let you through the doors and escorted you and the vault dweller through a path lined by crops and towards a large, rundown building. And while you both progressed closer and closer to the point of interest, you saw children laughing and jogging around the vicinity, supposedly happy in their element, which only confused you further.  

You heard things about Lee Moldaver. How everyone was terrified of her, and that she was feared. So to say you were confused when you and Lucy finally made it into the building she resided in, and found her having breakfast with a feral ghoul across a long table, would have been a major understatement. 

But then you saw Lucy’s dad stuck in a cage, looking like he’d been sitting out in the sun for far too long, and it brought you back to the reality of the situation. 

You were on a mission to help get him back.

But everything ended up falling through, like ice breaking off from a wall and falling into water, when Lee outed the man as one of the reasons why the world is the way that it is. One of the big figures behind Vault-Tec, striving to change things but in a fucked up, non-moralistic way. And although you didn’t know the man personally, that first impression certainly didn’t encourage you to like him, and even Lucy found herself questioning things, too. Like her childhood, that she had told you all about, and who her mother was, because Moldaver had been deeply interconnected, unbeknownst to her. 

And you.

But of course you didn’t know.

“He never told you where he’s really from,” Lee stated, standing up from the seat that she had been sitting in, and taking the vial she had previously pulled out of the doctors’ head with her, “when he’s from.” She emphasized the first word to her ending explanation, and as Lucy stepped forward to slightly follow the woman, you lingered back and watched on, as you folded your arms over your chest and creased your brow curiously. “He never told your mother, either.” 

“What do you know about my mother?” Lucy questioned suddenly.

Moldaver stepped up to a whirring bench of electronics and – in your eyes – confusion. Though, you did see her set the vial into some sort of square-like container, as it emitted a blue hue onto her skin and whatever else the light could touch. “She was like you,” the woman inevitably stated, “she was kind, loving.” She paused, “Curious.” She suddenly shook her head, before she turned around to look at Lucy, “Isn’t that why you came to the surface really?” she asked, “Partly to rescue your father, but… to know why I took him?” 

Your confusion only intensified, and you found your arms slowly dropping back to your sides, just so you could settle your fingers onto the handle of the pistol nestled into your holster. “Rose was so clever. Like you,” Lee continued, all the while, as you stepped up beside Lucy and watched the older woman carefully, “Lucy, your mother discovered that something was siphoning the vault’s water away. From that one clue…” she raised a hand up to pinch her fingers together, as if to signify just how small it was, “she deduced that, maybe… civilization had returned to the surface.” 

You could already tell where the story was going, and you found yourself swallowing the thick lump that formed in your throat, before you turned your focus over to Lucy, gauging her reaction. All the while, Lee stepped away from the console she had been fiddling with, and while the vault dweller’s expression shifted into a subtle look of disconcerted understanding, Moldaver continued. “When she told her husband, he said it was a ridiculous idea, and that she should tell no one.” 

“Lucy, let’s go,” Lucy’s father suddenly started, gripping the bars of the cage, as he shook his head dismissively and glanced between both you and his daughter. “Let’s–” 

But Lee cut him off before he could try and finish convincing Lucy, who seemed far too stunned to even listen to his reason, anyway. “And that’s when she realized that her husband, the Overseer, was hiding things.” 

“Lucy, let’s go,” the supposed Overseer started up once again, and that was when Lucy’s eyes shifted away from Moldaver’s to look at him instead, “let’s get out of here.” 

“So she ran away.” It felt like whiplash, having to hear the two older individuals fighting to take control of the conversation. Lee Moldaver had spoken up again, and you found yourself breathing in deeply, as your grip tightened on your gun, and you glanced at Lucy once more. “Like you did, Lucy.” When the woman spoke again, though, you forced yourself to take your attention away from the vault dweller, settling your pupils onto the older woman once more. “And took her children. And she found this wonderful city that was everything the vaults had promised to be.” 

“She is lying!” 

All three of you found yourselves ignoring the man’s words. He tried to maintain a steadiness in his tone, and although he succeeded well enough, with a simple glance towards him, you could see the internalized panic shining in his eyes. “But then, her husband came after her.” Moldaver only continued on, recalling the memory, “And when she decided not to return home, he took the children…” her voice trailed, and while you stared at her intently, you could see the way her lips shook, as an emotion of what you could only assume was pain overtook her weathered features, “and he burned that city to the ground.” 

“Shady Sands,” you mumbled suddenly, your voice almost a whisper. However, Lee heard you, and as your lips parted faintly to showcase your shocked recollection, she nodded her head, while you consciously thought back onto the giant crater you and Lucy had come across, just before entering Vault 4. 

“She’s lying, Lucy,” the Overseer suddenly said, ignoring your realization, as his eyes focused entirely on his daughter. But Lucy kept her gaze away from the man, unshed tears shining in her eyes, as she mindlessly shuffled closer to you and swallowed thickly. 

“That’s how Vault-Tec deals with competition,” Lee stated, “just like they did two-hundred years ago.” Her fleeting words were enough to send you into a bout of shock, too. You felt your breath quietly hitch, and unconsciously, your fingers tightened around the handle of your pistol, as your eyes shot towards the ground, glaring a hole into the floor below you. The silence that overcame the four of you was enough to suffocate the atmosphere, and only after a minute, did Moldaver eventually speak up, but she was entirely focused on the vault dweller beside you.

“Lucy?” she called, which successfully gathered Lucy’s attention, when she snapped out of her internal thoughts and blankly lifted her hazel eyes up to meet Lee’s. “What you and your friend brought me is cold fusion,” she explained, “it’s limitless energy.” The Overseer shook his head and parted his lips to call his daughter’s name.

“Lucy…” 

“And we can build–” 

“She’s a murderer.” 

“Our own world.” 

The Overseer’s grip on the bars he held tightened. “Lucy, look at me.” 

“It could be a better world.” Moldaver ignored him, though, while you lifted your head to look at Lucy, who blankly stared down at her boots, “it has clean water and medicine and power–” 

The Overseer interrupted. “She invaded our home!” 

“But for everyone!” 

“Lucy!” 

“Because when Vault-Tec bought my research…”

“She killed our people…” 

“They made it proprietary, so only a trusted Vault-Tec minion can activate cold fusion.” 

“Do not listen to her.” 

You slowly reached up to graze your fingers over her bicep, and your touch was hesitant. You could tell she was slowly but surely pulling herself out of her stupor, but with the continual back and forth between Lee Moldaver and her father, you were almost positive they weren’t helping her. Not with the way her brow was creased, showcasing bafflement and discontent throughout her face. You found yourself eventually biting the bullet and reaching further out to fully wrap your hand around her arm, and when you gave it a squeeze, it seemed to jolt her out of her bout of thought. 

“All I need… is for him to give me the code.” 

Lucy’s eyes flickered to look at you, all while she turned her head in the slightest. She acted like a robot, still shocked and coming to terms with everything she heard. And it only seemed to make her dad impatient, when you heard him let out a deep groan, before he yelled.

“Lucy, look at me!” 

The sound of a metal stool being thrown against the bars of the cage he was in was enough to fully snap Lucy out of her daze, when she flinched at the sudden action and snapped her head up to look at the Overseer. There was a sudden desire of protection that came over you the moment her father reacted, and when you yourself darted your focus to him, you held her arm tighter, as if to keep her rooted in her spot, away from the man.

“Look at me.” You could see the look of desperation in her dad’s eyes, as he gripped the bars of his enclosure and panted quietly, “Lucy,” he called her name once again, but nothing else came out of his mouth. He didn’t bother trying to explain himself. Nor did he refute Moldaver’s statements. He just… stared, and it was enough to lessen Lucy’s attention span when it came to gazing at him, when she fluttered her eyes away from him to address Lee instead.

“My mother,” she said shakily, “what happened to her?” 

Lee stared at Lucy somberly, “I think you know.” 

There was a moment of contemplation, and you slowly let go of Lucy’s arm, before you dropped your hand back onto the handle of your weapon. Unfortunately, you and the vault dweller were quick to put two and two together, and while your eyes widened in realization, she found herself turning around slowly, and settling her gaze onto the feral ghoul that sat at the table filled with food. 

It was her mom.

The entire situation in that dilapidated building sent you in for a loop. From finding out that Lucy’s father was one of the men who worked for Vault-Tec, which was the organization that turned the world the way that it was, to realizing that Lee Moldaver wasn’t as bad as either of you thought. She was a part of the New California Republic, and although you’ve only ever heard stories about them, you didn’t hate them nearly as much as you did the Brotherhood of Steel. That faction of which only ended up attacking the community you found yourselves in, shortly after the Overseer was pressured into giving the code for the cold fusion vial.

All the while, Lucy’s dad attempted to convince her to let him out, manipulating her into believing that he was right for doing what he did, but you found yourself shaking your head and muttering for her to go. And she herself was far too frozen to listen to you, or her father for that matter. So, you found yourself in a predicament. Hearing explosions and gunshots outside, which only got closer and closer to where you and her were, made you start to panic, not entirely knowing what to do. 

But then Maximus came back into the fold, with a headless phantom suit of power armor leading the way into the room, while he himself held up a gun. Unfortunately, one thing led to another in the process. With Lucy’s dad urging the soldier to let him out, he did so without a second thought, which only ended in shit going awry. Because when Lucy finally snapped into reality and told the Brotherhood of Steel knight to not trust the man, you attempted to tug your weapon out of your holster to hold her father at bay, which only ended in you getting knocked out when he snuck inside of the contraption of BOS gear and whacked you in the face with his metal fist. 

You eventually woke up to a dog licking your face, though.

“You know, for a supposed ‘wasteland-born dweller,’ you do not know how to take a hit, kid.” 

Your features scrunched up in reaction to the wet feeling of a dog lapping at your cheek, and with a lazy raise of your hand, you gently swatted the animal away, which earned a soft whine from it in turn. Nonetheless, the pup trotted away, and with the sun having disappeared from the sky to allow the moon to reign down on the world, you didn’t have to squint much when you fluttered your eyes open and pushed yourself up into a sitting position. 

Your jaw was undeniably sore, and you found yourself rolling it around, as you reached a hand up to rub at it. “What the hell are you talking about?” you tiredly questioned, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion, while you eventually lifted your chin up to look at the figure that stood in front of the fire, the cowboy hat he wore shadowing his weathered features, as he gripped the leather of his belt. “Who are you?” 

“The guy you didn’t help.” 

There was a short moment of silence as you recollected everything that had happened within the past two months. And only after a minute or two, did you remember the grocery store and meeting Lucy, as well as the ghoul you had stepped over and passed by, because you thought he was going to turn feral. Naturally, your expression shifted into a look of realization, and when the man turned his head slightly to gaze down at you, you slowly nodded your head, only to completely change the subject. “Where’s Lucy?” 

Looking around, you were in the woods, probably closer to Hollywood than the desert you knew far too well. More importantly, you couldn’t find Lucy, and you felt your heart leap to your throat, as you snapped your focus back up to the man, who let out a scoff and turned his head away from you to stare at the fire again. “She’s just takin’ a bathroom break. Relax.” 

You wanted to flip him off for being so crass, but you lacked the energy to respond, when you simply glanced down in thought and swallowed down the dryness in your throat. It wasn’t long before you pressed your palm against the floor of the forest and pushed yourself up to your feet, and as your boots crunched the leaves below you, you raised to your full height and stretched your back, which caused your muscles to pop and crack from the forced movement. 

The longer you kept your eyes open, the more awake you became, which allowed you to simultaneously take in even more of your surroundings. Particularly the Belgian Malinois that sat on her hind legs and stared up at you with her deep brown eyes. It had been a while since you’d seen a dog that didn’t look mutated, and you couldn’t help the way the corners of your lips curled up into a faint smile at the sight, before you moved your attention away from the animal and scanned the rest of the forest around the three of you.

In that same moment, your eyes found themselves settling onto Lucy, when twigs and leaves crunched beneath her own boots, as she walked back towards the fire you and the ghoul man were at. “Lucy?” you suddenly called, your voice cracking, due to its lack of use. You cleared your throat immediately after, and as you stepped away from the fire to walk towards her, she snapped her head up and immediately met your gaze. 

You didn’t give her the chance to speak. Nor did you gauge her reaction, as you quickened your pace and suddenly pulled her into a tight hug, the moment you were close enough. The quiet gasp she let out was expected, but you focused more on cocooning her in an embrace full of warmth and comfort, just like she did to you all those weeks ago. 

It didn’t take long for Lucy to slowly wrap her arms around you, too, reciprocating the hug, as she buried her face into your shoulder and gripped the fabric of your shirt. “This feels familiar,” she mumbled, her voice muffled, which caused you to let out a quiet huff of amusement, as you rubbed at her back. “Thanks for this, Y/n,” she added on, and you immediately nodded your head, as you squeezed her tighter. 

“Of course,” you replied quietly, “it seemed like you needed a hug.” 

Lucy sighed heavily into your shoulder, and you could tell she was still bearing the weight of what had happened back at Moldaver’s community. “I do,” she murmured, “I really do.” 

And because of that, you decided to hold her for a little longer in turn.

[avinwrites]

IDV Men and Their Love Languages pt. 2

Kevin Ayuso

Kevin is naturally physically affectionate. He’s constantly giving everyone hefty pats on the back, tousling someone’s hair with his gloved hand, or pulling them close by the shoulder to laugh and talk with anyone. There’s almost no exception for this behavior.

-In games with him, Kevin lassos you often

-Sometimes just for fun

-It’s one of his favorite past times, messing with you, that is

-If you’re kiting, you’ll have to look out for both the hunter and Kevin

-because he will absolutely risk the game if it means protecting you

-“That's sweet, Kevin, but go decode, we only have one cipher finished”

-He gets sad when you tell him to go away

-“I can’t help it, it's how I show my love” Kevin is the 🥺emoji (but add a cowboy hat to it)

-He still goes to rescue you when you most need it

-and the times he succeeds, it's really impressive

-but more often than not, he gets you both hit

-It’s ok, just comfort him with cuddles and he’ll instantly feel better

-If you have a bad match, he’d never blame you for it

-He’s honestly the best person to go to when upset

-He’ll listen to whatever you have to say intently, and hold your hands or hug you close

-Physical touch really is his thing. He owns it. Everyone else go home :3

Eli Clark

Eli feels the most loved when spending Quality Time with someone! He’s a perfectly pleasant individual, but he does have a social battery that does drain after a while. After he’s done conversing and interacting with others, he’ll head back to his room to recharge, usually talking to Brooke Rose about the day’s events and any other interesting thoughts that come into his mind. Once he becomes attached to someone, he also considers them one that “recharges” him.

-He purposefully seeks you out when he craves alone time with you. 

-Most of the time, you’ll find him, dejected, after a particularly rough match.

-You notice that at soon as he realizes you’re near him, he’ll perk up a little. From there, he’ll take your hand and lead you up to his room.

-From there, what you do varies greatly

-sometimes you two will talk, or participate in a hobby that you enjoy, or just take a nap

-Eli likes to spend time with you, he fears that neither he nor you have much of it

-He wants to make the most of the time he has

-so please, don’t leave him just yet

Aesop Carl

Also Quality Time. Aesop isn’t much of a talker, and he really doesn’t like to be touched. It takes him a long time to get comfortable enough with anyone to do most anything. But, it's entirely possible, it just requires patience. Things that one can notice about Aesop becoming more comfortable around a person includes, less tense posture, slightly more eye contact, and he becomes more vocal. This all comes with spending time with him, though, if he allows it. 

-Aesop is aware when you take care to ensure he’s comfortable in a situation

-He notices the things you do for him, and the patience you have with him

-and he’s more than grateful, he just doesn’t know how to show it.

-After a long time of him getting close to you, he gets the opportunity to let you know just how much you mean to him

-It’s late at night, the final matches of the day have concluded, and you are exhausted.

-You find waiting for you Aesop, who takes a look at your disheveled figure and hesitantly holds out a gloved hand

-You take it, and he leads you to your room with his metal makeup box in his other hand

-Silently, he instructs you to take a comfortable sit on your bed as he kneels and opens the box

-He reaches for supplies to patch you up, antiseptics for your shallow wounds and bandages.

-He’s very careful with each touch, you’re able to feel his concern through his body language

-When he finishes, he packs up his belongings, but before he leaves, he turns to you suddenly

-“Would it be okay if…” he takes a breath, gripping the hem of his shirt for a brief moment. You let him take his time. “Could I ask for your embrace?”

-“I’d like that.” You respond, pulling him close for a lingering moment. 

-This moment lasts in both of your minds until the end of time itself

Norton Campbell

He has two different love languages. He prefers to show his love by giving gifts, but feels loved through acts of service. He’s had to strive and work hard all his life in order to have stability, and yet he still wants more. To him, it shows that he appreciates someone when he gives someone a gift. If he were to be given a gift, he’d feel that it's either out of pity, or that he’d have to return the favor. He hates the idea of being in debt to someone. It’s different when someone chooses to do something of their own accord.

-There was a message not too long ago from the Baron of the Manor. A new location for the games to take place would be added to the growing list.

-Light chatter and theories spread across both sides of the manor

-It wasn’t until someone was actually assigned to the new map would the survivors figure out what it was

-One morning, you came downstairs to meet about half of the survivor population gathered around where the matches were scheduled, conversing in hushed whispers

-You didn’t notice anything else about the schedule, only two names: Norton Campbell, and The Golden Cave.

-Two things that would not go well together.

-You find a nearby slip of paper, write your name on it, and cover his name

-“I’ll go in his place, just don’t let him know. He shouldn’t have to go back there.”

-Of course, there was no way you’d complete this task without him knowing

-An out-of-place covering on the schedule was obvious

-At first, he was angry when he discovered it. He didn’t need your pity, he’s strong enough to handle it. But, he thought for a moment. Ultimately feeling thankful, rather, that you’d do something so nice for him. 

-There’s something he’s been working on as a personal project, something his time has gone towards that he cares for greatly

-When you returned from your match, on what looked like your last legs, everyone surrounded you and your teammates. 

-Without a word, Norton pulls you away to a quiet spot. You’re thankful for this. You weren’t about to put up with that clamor. 

-“Listen,” He starts, “I’m…” he struggles to find the words. “I’m honored that you did that for me. It… to know you care for me like that is a new, but good, feeling.”

-He produces something from his pocket, it shines as the small object falls into your palm

-Its a miniscule, but perfectly cut, diamond

-“It’s small, but diamonds like these are very valuable…” He goes on, you listen to him talk about what exactly this diamond is and what makes it special

-“I love it, Norton, thank you!.” You hesitate for a moment before lifting yourself and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

-Now he feels as though he must repay you for that gift!

Mike Morton

Physical Touch! Not a moment goes by where the ever dynamic acrobat isn’t near someone, usually physically interacting with them. You know those new interactive emotes? Those were made for him. With a significant other, his show of love increases tenfold.

-In the mornings, Mike will greet you differently depending on his mood

-He didn’t sleep well? You’re engulfed in a tight hug that lasts for a long while before breakfast. If he’s feeling happy, he’ll dramatically bend down on his knee and place his lips on the back of your hand before interlocking arms to lead you to the dining room. If he’s still sleeping, he will expect you to wake him up with a kiss as if he’s sleeping beauty.

-If you look sad, or distracted, he will play footsies with you under the table

-He doesn’t want you thinking about things that make you unhappy

-Expect lots of pats on the head. Even if you’re taller than him, he’ll find a way to ruffle your hair

-In matches, he’ll be as close to you as possible without putting the game at risk

-There are often times when there are only two people decoding 

-Because if you’re containing the hunter, he’s not standing still doing “nothing” as he likes to say

-At night, once you’re both tuckered out and ready for bed, he’ll drag you to whichever of your rooms happens to be closer and pull you into bed, just to latch onto you like a koala

José Baden

José loves to tease. His love language is words of affection appearing through playful banter. Just as well, he is straightforward and appreciates direct and honest confrontations and simple talks about feelings. 

-It may seem contradictory, but that's the beauty of words of affirmation, he loves to hear your voice

-He especially loves it, however, when you play along with him

-He gets into verbal ‘arguments’ frequently, especially with like-minded people such as Demi and Kevin

-Honestly, he’ll love it if you take his ‘side’ and smack-talking the opposing side

-or if you take the stance against him, he definitely likes the stichomythia, verbal repartee, between the two of you when you play argue

-he doesn’t like real arguments though, he’s has a habit of sticking to what he says, and sometimes the arguments could get nasty when he refuses to back down

-but arguments rarely ever happen, he’s much more likely to resolve things with open communication first

-He’ll often just ask for you to talk to him when he’s upset

-He likes to listen to you go on about a subject you’re interested in, and he’ll be ever so grateful if you listen to him as well

-He’s a chatter-box in the best way!

Thank you all for your support <3 I hope you enjoy!

[yurisorcerer]

God.

OK. So, this requires a little context. In a Discord server I'm in, they're groupwatching every KyoAni show. Starting today, they got to Haruhi Suzumiya and are going to be watching an episode per day until we finish it. I'm not gonna write about every single episode of this show---I've seen it several times at this point so while I have a fair bit to say about most episodes it's just a lot of effort for a series I don't think many people here on tumblr specifically care about anymore---I do wanna write about this one

because, like can you fucking IMAGINE opening an anime like this in 2024? It'd be impossible. When an anime in the present day wants to make a big impact it'll go for laser focus, trying to present its absolute best foot forward, or a grandiose overlength premiere like Oshi no Ko or Frieren or something. The idea of opening your anime with *this* is just....I mean, even at the time it was baffling. I watched Haruhi a couple years after it aired and I remember being SO confused. What was this? Why is the first episode of this show---a show that aired deliberately out of order, by the way. I'm calling it the first episode here but if you're going by DVD order it's one of the last---some weird, deliberately bad student film that has a snarky narrator CinemaSins-ing over top of it?

The short answer is just that from the very beginning, the Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya has a somewhat antagonistic relationship with its audience. Haruhi herself, as we'll learn in upcoming episodes, is kind of a really unpleasant person before eventually getting better. And I'm not going to claim that this show invented the idea of having your title character be a complete jackoff---it did not---but at the very least, it felt new at the time. (Contrast that to nowadays where every two-bit isekai has a total fuckboy who you're clearly supposed to love from episode 1 anyway.) So the first episode is kind of a....I hate this term, but almost a troll move I guess? More than anything, it's supposed to be *confusing.*

Improbably, this worked, and The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya became, for both better and worse, one of the defining anime of its era. It's been nearly 20 years and I have no idea how this happened.

Some amount can probably be attributable to the charisma of Haruhi herself---she sucks, but she makes an *impression*---but none of that is really present here since she doesn't show up until the end of the episode for the big mic drop moment, a moment where we get slightly more of an idea of what this show even actually is.

I think honestly the charm of the deliberately bad film might have been a factor. The thing is completely nonsensical; we have Mikuru running around in a bunny outfit doing plugs for random local businesses while vying for the affection of Itsuki. Itskuki himself plays a character best described as "on-screen" and "present." Mikuru's big rival both in love and for the fate of the Earth (?!?!) is Yuki, who wears a fucking awesome witch hat throughout most of the episode. At one point, in scenes that seemed utterly baffling without the context that later episodes would provide, Mikuru's eye appears to actually change color and fire a beam from it, and Shamisen the cat talks like a person. This shit was weird! Even at the time.

Also the bit where she fires a gun and goes "aaaah!" as the recoil gets out of control is still funny to me 16 years later. Many things about me have changed since I first watched this show but apparently my sense of humor isn't one of them.

Haruhi Suzumiya as a series is really important to me in that it was one of the first things I watched that was REALLY OBVIOUSLY "anime." There wasn't the plausible deniability you got with something that aired on Toonami (and thus was visible to anyone with cable TV) or one of the common entry-level access points like Cowboy Bebop or such, which are considered classics not just of their medium but of their *genre* and thus didn't carry the same stigma. The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya is an anime-ass anime, with its bunnygirl outfits and improbable high school antics and psychic powers and aliens and yadda yadda. When I first started watching the series I was vaguely embarrassed about my interest in Japanese cartoons, by the time I'd finished it, I had an actual fucking SOS Brigade patch on my jacket. No less a figure than Tatsuki Fujimoto said that the series was responsible for turning his generation into otaku, and, anecdotally, he's pretty much right about that; most otaku I know of my age had a Haruhi phase at some point. (That's part of why Aya Hirano playing Makima in the Chainsaw Man stage play was such a big deal. It's not just that she's an incredible actress---although she is---that's fucking Haruhi playing Makima, man.)

Its success is also partly responsible for the light novel adaptation hellscape we now live in, so I'm not going to shy away from criticizing it either. Right off the bat there's a really uncomfortable kind of semi-"ironic" sexualization of Mikuru, helpfully lampshaded by Kyon as the film's narrator. This does not let up at any point throughout the show and is probably the worst thing about the series (although it doesn't reach its nadir for a while, if I recall). I'm not a fan.

Other than that element, I think as far as first episodes go, I wouldn't mind if more shows went back to this approach. There's something to be said for just baffling your audience into submission.

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 3 - Last Exit by Max Gladstone

Okay, book review number 3! This was a denser read than the last few books I’ve gone through – I think it literally had more words per page than standard? Or maybe just a heavier writing style.

Now to be clear this isn’t any sort of complaint – I absolutely adored this book (So, thanks a million to @booksandchainmail and @circletofcircles for pointing me towards it!). Feels like I was leaving a bookmark every few pages because there was a passage that really jumped out at me I wanted to save. I had to just start tearing up whatever receipts I had handy every bookmarks at a certain point. Between this and This Is How You Lose The Time War, I absolutely need to hunt down some more of Gladstone’s stuff (I say, as if I don’t already have Empress of Forever out form the library and sitting on my dresser).

So, the story doesn’t make any direct reference to Lovecraft – and it is otherwise not shy at all about making direct references. There are like a half-dozen places where I could just tell what book/article/discourse Gladstone had on his mind as he wrote it, even leaving aside the e.g. place literally named Elsinore – but it honestly did a better job of being an anti-cosmic horror story than a lot of the stuff that says on its face it’s About Deconstructing Lovecraft does, at least imo?

The alien is terrible, and terrifying. It’s vaster than you can imagine, and it will destroy everything about the life you know. It whispers to the desperate and forgotten, speaks and promises to those who’d cast aside the world for something, anything, else. Fighting it is miserable, and bloody, and leaves you ruined in body and soul. But saving the world requires sacrifice, requires hard lines and desperate measures.

But, well, have you taken a look at the world recently? How sure are you it’s better than what lies beyond it? How much killing are you willing to do, off that surety?

And the book is excellent is getting that sense of desperation, of sunk costs and impending doom and making it feel like the only real choices are finding a bit of happiness for you and yours and shutting out the bigger picture, or making yourself a sin eater shoring up a rotting foundation. Also just generally, at giving a sense of poverty and desperation and impending collapse.

I’d say the resolution and epilogue feel a little saccharine, but that really very much the point – cast aside the gods we’ve made to rule over us, and the world really will be as good and kind as you’ve never dared to dream it might be. It’s a very anarchist story, that way.

The villain’s really fascinating, honestly. Like, in a certain very pat sense, it’s the embodiment of settler colonialism – a cowboy in a white hat who is watching you through every NSA back door in every phone camera – but it’s a bit more fundamental than that. (Also, weirdly not that racist or homophobic, given that)

I mean in one sense, like, the Cowboy’s whole thesis is that the world is basically awful, and anything good for anyone comes only at a cost to someone else, and that if you want a comfortable life for you and yours, you better have some men with guns willing to keep the people your comfort is taken from from tearing it back with interest. All of his associations are with civilization – roads, cities, cameras, guns, hierarchy writ large – are you get the sense that all the specific referents are about Manifest Destiny, the core is very, well, we’ve all read Against the Grain, right? The passages about how the first city walls were probably built to keep people in as much as out seem relevant, especially.

Or – there was a Tides of History episode a few weeks back about the Assyrian Empire, and how according to royal theology Ashur the god WAS Ashur the City, and the spread of the empire was the ordering of the world according to Ashur’s laws was in a sense the spread of Ashur himself. That feels like a comparison the book would have drawn, if the subject had come up.

But I’m rambling and only barely coherently, so will stop myself there – book’s not perfect, by any means, have some nitpicks with the plot, the direct references to contemporary politics get a bit didactic feeling and tired when you’re getting them with the same perspective from four/five POVs, the finale kind of descends into melodrama – but really lovely book, would recommend.

(also – it’s not really relevant to anything, but between this and Ninth House what the fuck is up with Yale? )

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 1/3/2023

VERY pleasing to me that the year starts and ends on a Sunday

mack doesn't know what a calendar is

listening

first song of the year: doja cat's say so (snakehips remix). just a pretty little soap bubble of a song. this is not to say it's insubstantial, bc i do think that doja cat is one of the harder hitters when it comes to production values, just that it's about a soft, ephemeral moment. in an interview i cannot locate she once said "if my songs make you get up and dance i've done my job" and this is very much a staple on my dishwashing playlist

i've stolen lyrics for a fic (no punches left to roll with) and plan to continue mining this song for fic and chapter titles. stay tuned

-

reading

hat tip to @blysse-and-blunder for reblogging a post about a buckwild academic plagiarism case. here's a short version, here's the long play by play with a bonkers twist in i think part 4.

unrelated: if RetractionWatch ever got real funding and wasn't constantly creaking along on a literal shoestring budget, they're in the top five of orgs i would like to work for. this would require me to be actually connected and qualified tho

-

watching

kicked off the sixth year of starting a new-to-me black and white movie at about ten forty/eleven PM on new year's eve, so i come into the new year watching something good. very important: it has to be a movie i have not seen but i already know i will love. previous years have been: sunset boulevard, yojimbo, the thin man, it happened one night, and bringing up baby. i am predisposed to noir and screwball comedies, but it is very funny that yojimbo kicked off the Cowboy Year and i simply have never looked back. i am reluctant to watch a cowboy movie as the first movie of the year bc they are so wildly varying in quality and i find most black-and-white american westerns afflicted with the hays code. do pre-code westerns exist? yeah. do i want to watch them? no.

this year was The Big Sleep (1946, Hawks), one of The film noirs. films noir?

can we bring back inexplicable nightclub scene where the female lead is singing something or performing a dance routine for funsies

more importantly, must a murder mystery be "good" or "comprehensible" or "a successful adaptation of the original novel's core plot"? is it not enough to see two tops, bogart and bacall, flirt at each other for the entire runtime?

pbatengf gb gur guerr (3) crbcyr jub jvyy fyvat guvf vagb ebg13 h trg fbzr Yber: qrfcvgr jevgvat frireny svpgvbany guerrfbzrf v qb abg yvxr gurz vey. v jbhyq znxr na rkprcgvba urer

-

playing

pokémon. we'll see if my opinion changes, bc i have some scheduled medical funtimes over the weekend where i will be lying around and waiting a lot, but i currently don't feel like grinding enough to beat the final boss. got all the way down into the crater! met the final boss! can't be bothered otherwise and i have the bad habit of stopping a game the instant it stops being fun, which is why i have never seen the fallout endgame bc after i unlock all the settlements and decorate them i'm like well! job's done, game's over.

i further can't be bothered to get screenshots off my switch at this moment so look at dragalge who i am really vibing with lately. very shaped. poison/dragon/water moves all in one creature is very helpful

-

making

password manager: i am changing every fucking password i have bc of the lastpass breach :) bitwarden has slightly fewer quality of life features but the free tier more than supports my needs. neither of my siblings uses a password manager aside from the built in chrome and apple ones (upside down smiley face emoji) so we'll save that battle and that family plan purchase for another day.

planner talk: i am outsourcing a greater portion of my brain to the planner as the post-covid fog continues and at this point i honestly think i would rather someone have unfettered access to my journal than unfettered access to my planner. the planner is where most of the living happens. (pro tip: preload birthdays into that thing and then write a reminder a month out to actually find and send off a birthday gift/card/what have you. this makes me feel extremely put together, but there not very many people i actually buy gifts for)

thoughtful gift talk: a related pro tip, if you find whimsical but slightly generic objets d’art at thrift stores and cannot quite justify them for yourself, try throwing them in a big box for those gifts you have previously written yourself reminders about. love a trinket box or a container of some sort to put a slightly more personalized gift in. eg these rabbit glass...lidded trinket dishes? idk they have a proper name but they're rabbit versions of the milk glass hen-on-nest dishes that used to be really popular during the depression. pen and cat for scale

these will probably go off to my sister for her birthday, holding some monogrammed earrings and a cat toy for her cat fern.

i suppose the "generic box of cool stuff but not so cool that you will mourn its loss" could also work for hostess or housewarming gifts if that is a situation that frequently happens to you. i feel a little bit like im showing my hand by sharing these aging tumblr population tips bc i had to derive them all from first principles but there is no need for YOU, gentle reader, to reinvent the wheel along with me.

[safetycar-restart]

So fabio managed to get that tractor to third. And then he wore that cowboy hat. And now its his birthday.

The bestest boy deserves all spoiling, im thinking like taking him to a spa, buying new massage oils with his favorite scent and giving him full body massage, really comfortable clothes in the patterns he loves, making him his fave dinner and going on a hike with him since the chaos baby cannot be still to long. Naked cuddling and cuddling included whenever he feels like it

Do you agree or would you spoil him in another way?

YES YES YES FINALLY WE CAN HAVE FABIO CONTENT!!! I love Fabs so much oh my god.

Firstly, I have no doubt that he celebrated both his birthday and his podium in Texas and was still drunk for a fair few days afterwards. He had so much fun though!!

If you weren't there, he would have sent you hundreds of drunk selfies and videos, completely incoherent but so so happy.

This matters because I think that because of that, he honestly wants to have a bit of a quiet day for his birthday. He's spent so much of his time with you being upset and depressed, needing to be looked after and loved and of course you've done so without complaint.

But now, now he finally has had a small win and it's his birthday and he's already celebrated plenty with friends so he just... he wants to happy with you? Be genuinely carefree with you.

Maybe you start the day off with the hike? He loves hiking so much and okay yes maybe he did quite literally run circles around you but it was so much fun! He was hiking with you!! That's everything to him!

Maybe you even get up early enough to watch the sunset? It's genuinely the best start to the day ever.

You have a shower together when you get home, where you both exchange kisses and wash each other and fabio doesn't stop smiling for one second.

Then he gets his presents! You have to spoil him after the start to the season he's had, buying him expensive and also cheep and cheesy things. He deserves it all!! And plenty of flowers!! And clothes in completely ridiculous patterns!!

He starts crying and bouncing on his toes when he sees all his gifts, requiring immediate cuddles and kisses and even makes you open the gifts because his hands are too preoccupied with cuddling you and wiping his eyes.

He doesn't expect the massage at all, but it's so good!! You use his favourite scent, massaging his whole body and tracing his tattoos and he LOVES it. He gets hard at some point, but has no desire to actually do anything about that just yet because he's so comfy and the massage feels so good.

He also insists on returning the favour? Except he can't really massage anyone to save his life and gets massage oil everywhere and you have to change the sheets afterwards but it was so much and he still gets kisses for his effort.

[lesbiannova]

I tried out Neko Atsume 2 as soon as it was released, but I just uninstalled it because I honestly dislike the item degradation mechanic, with the cowboy hat requiring 100 silver fish to fix being the last straw for me. I decide to stick to playing the first game.

[poisonedspider]

starter call 2.0

4. For an angry starter And 46. For a suspicious starter. // Imagine Striker sneaking into the club to look for something and coming across Angel who doesn't know him obviously and may think he is just a weird stalker fan.

Angel was honestly just ready for the night to be fucking over. While he preferred getting to dance over filming pornography, he had been working for about eleven days straight now. It seemed that Valentino had discovered the ‘loophole’ in that while he was only required to obey his pimp while working, Val was also allowed to get him to work as many days as was possibly needed. So he had been working Angel extra days and hours in order to get him away from the hotel, and therefore under his control, as much as he possibly could. Which, unfortunately, made for one incredibly grumpy spider.

He wanted to pull off these lashes, wash off this make-up, get out of this corset, and head home. This had absolutely been his plan, until he had noticed something was off. The door to his dressing room was cracked open – he was almost positive that he had closed it before heading on stage. Not that he kept anything personal in there, and not that Valentino couldn’t go in and out as he pleased, but it did strike him as a bit odd. It wasn’t like people hadn’t attempted to assault Angel after a show before. He was a hot commodity in Hell, for better or worse, which meant all sorts of sinners wanted access to him.

Fortunately for him, but unfortunately for who he would soon discover seemed to be an imp, he was always locked and loaded. His six guns were on his person at all times, and there had been no hesitation as he pulled two of them out when he kicked the door open with a heeled boot, pulling them onto the man with the cowboy hat. “Don’t know who in th’ fuck yeh’ are, but ah’m givin’ yeh’ ten seconds t’ tell me what yeh’ doin’ in my dressin’ room before ah’ blow yeh’ brains out.” Imps were hellborn, and he really didn’t want to permakill the guy unless he had to, but that would all depend on his answer.

[artsytalon]

issylee​:

“That’s depressing. That college girl of yours must have done a real number on you.” she joked, and grinned at him. She didn’t really know too much of his life after going off to college but it was the only thing that she could come up with. “I don’t know if you could call it a secret, since I’ve mentioned it like three to four times now, but yeah. That is definitely my goal today. You have to do something - howdy- since you chose to ignore the attire requirement and no. That hat doesn’t count. It’s not even a cowboy hat.” she said while glancing up at his hat. “You just turned it into a possibility,” Issy signaled the bartender again before continuing, “Two more shots, please. And a glass of something. Maybe cranberry? Or is coke better with whisky?”

“Nah, she was a great girl. We just wanted different things. She wanted to move to New York and that scared the shit out of me so I came back here,” Talon said, a little too honestly. “I mean, aren’t we drinking Howdy drinks and I feel like my hat should count for at least half a point. It’s almost a cowboy hat” he added, with a laugh. “Coke is probably better for whiskey,” he said, before pulling out a stool for her and sitting in the one next to it. If they were going to have a few then they might as well be comfortable. 

issylee​:

“Stop! I was joking.” she laughed, pushing his shoulder. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty? Cause it’s not working very well. You’re heartbreak will mend. It wouldn’t be the first time.” Issy reached for her shot, assessing it before clinging it to his. “Cheers” she said, taking a deep breath before tipping it back then making a disgusted face while shaking the burning sensation away. “That was foul! Remind me to get a chaser with the next one, but onto that bull! What will I have to do to get you on there?”

“That’s assuming my heartbreak mended in the first place,” Talon said, with a roll of his eyes. The shot wasn’t nearly as bad as Issy’s face implied, but he didn’t hate the idea of a chaser next time. “Me? On the bull?” he asked, with a laugh. “Is that your secret mission because I’m going to need many more shots if you think that’s even a possibility.”

[safety-pin-punk]

I don't know if you've talked about it before, but how DID you get into punk? I'm kind of curious :o And are you into hardcore punk? Any good bands you know of? Oh also do you listen to bands in languages that aren't English? I'd love to hear about them!

Sorry, I know these are a lot of questions^^; You can tale your time with answering them. Have a nice day/night!^^♡

I love getting questions like this that dont require me to do much thinking lol I hope you have a good day/night as well anon!!

How did I get into punk? Great question! It was more of a transition though. Believe it or not, I was a redneck country kid through and through. I still own a few cowboy hats and listen to Johnny Cash occasionally. I can think of one moment in my life that kinda flipped that switch though. I was in my sisters car when I was around 15(?) (mind you she is 10 years older than I am) and a Bowling for Soup song came on. Specifically it was 1985, and I just fell in love with it. And despite my dad being a DJ, he played a lot of weddings when I was younger, so I didn’t listen to much alternative music. But from there, I started doing a lot of research on alternative subcultures. Believe it or not, but punk has a LOT in common with real redneck culture. Anti government, let people do what they want, take care of your community. And maybe its just SW PA rednecks that are like that, but it made for a pretty easy transition to punk. Honestly old country music and punk music has a lot in common too, its just a question of does it have a fiddle or an electric guitar lol

Am I into Hardcore Punk? Not really. I listen to some hardcore stuff, occasionally a bit of metal, but my heart and soul belongs to pop punk/alt rock/post punk type stuff

Good bands I know of? Im assuming you were talking about hardcore bands from the way the question was structured, but I dont listen to much outside of bigger names with hardcore when I do listen to it. However, I will certainly take this opportunity to promote an alt pop band whose songs are currently living rent free in my head: Arrows in Action (its not punk but still good music)

Bands in Languages That Arent English? YES I DO ACTUALLY

I cant find it right now, but towards the start of the war between Ukraine and Russia, I made a post with a bunch of Ukrainian punk bands. So that’s floating around somewhere

Theres also this Russian band I found on tiktok when I still had the app (dark days I know)

And this French band that I ADORE

[wolken-himmel]

In which the first-years try to help Sebek win (Y/n)'s attention. However, their inexperience renders them unable to help. In the end, it's Silver who succeeds.

Requested by anon.

"Are you sure this hat will charm (Y/n)? I can't say I'm too confident..."

A perplexed look shrouded Sebek's face as he adjusted the bright red cowboy hat that Ace had pressed onto his head. The rest of the first-year friend group sat around Sebek in a circle, each of them trying not to laugh at the hilarious sight offered to them. Despite the clear distress in Sebek's eyes, the mood in Ace and Deuce's shared room was quite lively.

"Of course!" Ace chimed innocently. "Red is her favourite colour."

"No," Deuce interjected in genuine confusion, "blue is her favourite colour, Ace." The two Heartslabyul students began staring each other down into the ground, neither of them willing to back down. The room grew silent and tense, much to the dismay of Sebek, whose impatience was slowly becoming evident on his face in the form of a twitching eye.

Eventually, it was Jack who was the one to step up and whack them over their heads. "Actually, (F/c) is her favourite colour," he muttered under his breath, exasperated. Their pride wounded, Ace and Deuce crossed their arms and averted their gazes from one another. With the peace being restored, Jack turned to Sebek and quirked an eyebrow. "Put that silly hat away... it makes my eyes hurt. (Y/n) won't like it— nobody with common sense would, anyway."

A relieved sigh escaped Sebek's lips when he finally was allowed to remove the eyesore from his head. In one easy motion, he flung the hat right at Ace, who was thrown back by the sheer amount of strength put into the throw.

"Well, what do you suggest we do, Jack?" Sebek asked loudly, the anxiety causing him to lose control of his voice's volume.

"Uh..." Jack scratched the back of his neck. "I honestly don't have a lot of experience with this sort of thing," he trailed off sheepishly.

Epel couldn't help but roll his eyes at the beastman. "Come on, girls must be lining up for good ol' Jack with how buff he is!" he exclaimed and playfully punched the wolf's shoulder, earning him a little growl. Despite the warning, Epel continued to laugh bravely. "All girls are into strong guys."

Jack's ear began twitching in exasperation. "I wouldn't be so sure about it. Strength isn't necessarily required to woo someone, I'd say. What about intelligence?"

Epel hummed along absent-mindedly, rubbing his chin, as if deep in thought. "Eh, Sebek's got both, doesn't he?" he began, which earned him a curious glance from everyone in the room. A little chortle escaped the blue-eyed boy's rosy lips. "He's like a mixture between Deuce and Ace, added with a sprinkle of an alarm siren." An almost evil grin adorned his adorable face when he finished his sentence.

Sebek looked almost offended. "What is that supposed to mean—" he barked and sprang up from his seat, ready to jump at Epel and wrap his hands around his throat.

"All Epel meant to say is that you're perfectly suited to woo (Y/n)," Deuce cut in before one could attack the other.

The aggressiveness that clouded Sebek's eyes up until vanished into thin air, now replaced by a sheen of sadness and frustration. Like a dejected puppy, he ventured back to his original seat and sank into the chair in exhaustion. "I am grateful, really—" he began, exhaling. "But how exactly am I supposed to start? That's what I've been asking you for the last hour, and I don't feel like I'm smarter by now..."

Ace, Deuce, Epel, and Jack all shared a pitiful look with one another. To see their usually lively and loud friend in such a distressed state was an off-putting experience. However, none of them dared to say anything, knowing that they wouldn't be able to provide any useful advice.

Deuce was the first one to shift uncomfortably, letting out a nervous chuckle. "I guess we're not that helpful, are we?" he said in an attempt to brighten everyone's mood. "You went to the wrong people. None of us had a girlfriend before, aside from Ace maybe— but she broke up with him, anyway."

An offended gasp escaped the red-head's throat. "You got it all wrong! I broke up with her, tsk," Ace corrected and rolled his eyes.

That was the last straw for Sebek; he couldn't take this any longer. In a sweeping motion, he rose from his chair and carried himself over to the exit of the room. He could feel four pairs of eyes boring holes into the back of his head, but he couldn't bring himself to really care about their worried gazes.

"I guess I should leave... I need some time for myself," Sebek murmured quietly before he shut the door behind him. He quickened his pace, just wishing to get away from his friends and throw himself into his bed to sulk for the rest of the day.

°°°

"Sebek? May I enter?"

The first-year groaned into his pillow while shifting around in his bed, however making no attempt to sit up and open the door. He recognised the owner of the voice when it reached his ears for a second time, this time inquiring if he was alright.

Sebek let out another groan. "Leave me alone, Silver."

The voice died down immediately, and silence returned to the first-year's room. Yet, it was soon broken by the audible click the door produced when it was pushed open. Sebek curiously raised his head to find Silver entering carefully, a worried look on his face.

"I heard you're having issues—" Silver muttered under his breath as he sat down on the right side of the bed. "Matters of the heart, no?"

Sebek hesitated for a moment, unsure how to answer, which was highly unlike him. Usually, he would simply say the first thing that came to his mind; however, this time, he couldn't make sense of all the voices that echoed around in his head. So, burying his face in his pillow, he let out a scream. "...I don't know what to do," he admitted upon having finished venting his frustration.

An amused smile adorned Silver's lips as he reached out towards his fellow dorm member to put a hand on his shoulder. "Worry not," the second-year muttered and nudged his side with the object he was carrying with him. "Here, take this."

His gesture caused Sebek to sit up curiously, easily swiping the mysterious object out of his hands. On closer inspection, he noticed that it was a book — bound in a leather-cover, although he did not recognise it on first glance at the title.

The curiosity in his eyes was soon replaced by annoyance. "A book? I'm not in the mood for reading..." he mumbled under his breath, about to throw the book into the corner of his room when he was stopped.

"It's (Y/n)'s favourite book," Silver revealed.

His green eyes grew large at that revelation. Suddenly, his grip on the book tightened, and he eyed the cover in admiration. "How do you know?" he breathed out in genuine astonishment.

A chuckle escaped the second-year's lips. "With how much you stare at her, I would have thought you had noticed by now how she always carries it around with her," he commented playfully, causing his friend to turn red in embarrassment. Yet, the playfulness in his eyes soon turned into genuine kindness. "It's the perfect conversation starter, no?"

Sebek let out a sigh, unable to believe his luck. "You're a life-saver, Silver..."

Silver waved him off. "That's what brothers do..." However, the soft look in his eyes quickly morphed into an amused grin. "Besides, Lilia has been breathing down my neck because he wants baby pictures."

"Pictures of whose babies?" Sebek asked obliviously.

Silver raised an eyebrow in disbelief at the other's confusion. It seemed like the joke had gone right over his head, as it often did. Amused, Silver simply said in a matter-of-fact voice, "(Y/n)'s and your babies, of course..."

[haldenlith]

Warframe x Destiny 2

Okay, since I’ve kind of, on and off, compared the two, my brain got thinking on a “What If xyz Destiny 2 Character was an Operator in Warframe? What frame would they use/main?”

So here we go!

This will be excluding a lot of the new frames because I’m just not familiar enough with them. So that means we’re excluding everyone added after (and including, because I only know him vaguely as Gotta Go Fast frame) Gauss.

I also might have gone in and done custom appearances too... (Fashion frame, the true endgame.)

I’ll start with my D2 OC, Hal.

Hal: Inaros

At first, I was going to say Rhino or something, given Hal’s beefy build and tendency to just charge in and not often die (mm, yes, delicious almost 100 Resilience). But then, I realized, wait, he’s not just a Warlock, he’s a DEVOUR Warlock, and there’s one frame that ticks both the “eat your enemies and regain health” and “never die” boxes. That’s the Sand King himself, Inaros.

 Gotta love the Ramses helmet looking a bit like Nezarec’s Sin.

   Crow: Harrow

You know, you’d think, with his bird theme, I’d immediately say, oh, Zephyr. I’ll grant you, it’s not a bad choice. However, think about Crow’s whole character arc: it’s ultimately been about redemption and penance for past sins. There is a perfect frame for that, though the religiousy theme doesn’t fit, the idea of penance fits. Harrow. It also works in that Harrow tends to be something of a support and protection frame, while also being able to do damage. Another good suggestion would be Ivara, for her mechanics (they’re very Hunter-y). Maybe Crow would main Harrow, but would have Zephyr and Ivara back in his Orbiter for if he needs them?

   Ikora: Nova

So, initially I was going to say “Saryn”, but then I remembered that sheeeee got kinda nerfed, so she doesn’t deal out damage like she used to, and she doesn’t have very good survivability. Then I realized there’s another frame that works for our Warlock Vanguard: Nova. Ikora is supposed to low-key be the most powerful warlock in at least the entire system of Sol (yes, stronger than Osiris), so a frame with incredibly high DPS would be appropriate for her. There’s also Mesa, but I feel like her theme doesn’t fit as well, being a Gunslinger frame. Also, come on, the name. Nova. It’s perfect.

   Zavala: Hildryn

Big Shield Woman for “GET BEHIND MY SHIELD” Titan. Memes aside, I do think Hildryn is good for Zavala. She can take a lot of damage and still stay standing, while also protecting her allies. Very appropriate for our Titan Vanguard Dad. There’s not much else to say, honestly.

I don’t have Hildryn so I can’t do customizations to suit Zavala.

  Cayde-6: Mesa

Also why Ikora didn’t get Mesa, because I was going to give it to Mr. (Dead) Gunslinger, Cayde. At first, I considered Mirage, given her trickster theme, and Cayde was certainly a trickster, or Ivara because of her kit, but ah, the theme of Mesa just fits too perfectly, along with her general kit and damage. Also, just look at that fabulous hat with her Prime version. Cayde would wear that fancy ass cowboy hat if he wasn’t doing a cloak.

I also don’t have Mesa because I hate grinding Alad V, and I have terrible RNG with farming Prime parts.

  Saint-14: Rhino

Big chonk frame that offers some small amount of support to his allies (increases their damage), but is ultimately about charging in, head first, and wrecking face. This is very much the sort of frame you run in and headbutt things to death with. Also I feel like Rhino’s big Stomp ability is very Saint-ish. Angrily stomp the ground so hard you send your enemies flying into the air.

And an honorable mention:

Uldren Sov: Excalibur Umbra

Okay, so, I almost went with Equinox, because of the dual thing. Why? Well, when I think of Uldren, I think of co-dependent, unfortunately. As much of a badass as he was, he... required having another half, which was Mara. He fell to pieces when that other half wasn’t there. So, it’d have to be a frame that works in some dual-dependent sense. Equinox’s kit doesn’t really fit, though. Or, rather, only the Day form fits. Sure, one could go “Oh, but the Night Form is Mara,” buuuut this is a singular frame used by a singular operator. Also, I... don’t think Mara would play pacifist support. SO! I went with Excalibur Umbra.

Excalibur because he’s just an all around good frame to run into a fray on his own and be a badass, plus his Exalted Blade ability performs essentially the exact same as the sword that was dedicated to Uldren, Black Talon. However, it has to be the Umbra version, not just because the whole “edgy tortured existence” thing (although that too), but because Umbra is unique in that, when the Operator steps out of it, it can act on its own, unlike other frames which are basically just... weapon suits, at the end of the day. Umbra is, in essence, dependent on the Operator, in spite of being able to move on his own.

As an addendum, I’d really pick Stalker, but Stalker is unique and not a Warframe, technically. That said, Stalker is 100% an irritating bully to every Operator and Warframe out there. (No, Stalker, I don’t feel like fighting you today, please get out of my mission, ugh...)

(I used the Zato helmet because it’s so damn extra and I don’t have any of the other fancy helms. Also, careful not to get cut on that red/black EDGE.)