#people want us to stream it and I'm fuckin here for that yo

[roxaeri]

Dad and Boy Play Games Streams on Twitch, definitely.

It all began when Atreus, after getting suspended for the season in archery club for fighting (refer back), and he just sat down to play through his mom's games that he hadn't played before.

And then mentioning at school how he didn't expect his dad to help him solve the puzzles because he's never been interested in Nintendo games but he knows a whole heckin lot???

And his friends are basically, "You gotta be lying. No way your dad's into Mario games."

"I mean, have you seen your dad??"

"Uh, yeah? I mean I've had eleven years to get to know what he looks like."

--then it descends into Prove It and a Gotta See It To Believe it kinda deal

Atreus borrows an extra capture card from his friend Efi and she texts him to walk him through setting everything up for the streams

--refer back to short about the start of DBPG--

As for how Atreus got his dad to play games with him

Atreus' first go-to when he can't sleep and can't stay in bed is to sit in the living room in the dark and play video games

Stems from what his mom would do when she couldn't sleep and she'd get up and make hot cocoa and get some snacks

They'd just play games until Atreus fell asleep

And Kratos would usually just sit in the background watching them play whenever they did while he cooked or they ate dinner or lazy days where they didn't want to do anything

And it was a comfort when Atreus was in the hospital a lot, and then when his mom was in the hospital and hospice

After Faye died, there was no one to play games with Atreus, and Kratos just slowly became involved with them because Atreus would need help figuring out puzzles or pulling off certain tricks or moves in game

So it became a thing

As for streaming their gameplay, Kratos just fuckin ignored it. Ignored the chat.

Then Mimir stopped by and just didn't help him by actually responding to chat about what he knew of the current game and then Real World Counterparts and Probable Cultural Influences of things

"But that's just my guess now isn't it?"

And then Aloy joined chat and kept at it until Kratos finally responded and he was doomed after that and Aloy cemented herself as Queen of the Chat and a member of DBPG from then on

For a while, they just kept it all to Twitch because they didn't think there was a need to move their clips and full streams elsewhere since it was just Atreus' friends

And then the school found out and watched

And then High School found out and watched

And Atreus is just confused when he's told it's just Too Good to not be in multiple places

"I don't believe that, but okay."

And he's a simple kid. He just makes it Dad and Boy like on Twitch.

And Online Multiplayer is really when things blow up for them

And horror since Kratos enjoys horror games but also Mimir just no capacity for it so Of Course

Everyone losing their shit when Jörmungandr--where the hell did that come from?? asks the Chat--just wiggles his growing long body up to Atreus' shoulder and just squishes himself between the boy's head and the back of the couch

They're all, "Yes, perfect, a mascot. Make it so."

And it was made so

And it becomes an every other day staple of their lives that follows everything else they do in a day or even when they have dinner or just Snack Fests because they have an enormous game library that people want to see them play through for the sheer novelty of getting a peek into this kid's life with Stoic Dad Who Has To Break His Composure At Some Point

[crewhonk]

If you do not mind taking a Nameless series (which I whole-heartedly loved, by the way) prompt. What would have happened if the reader were to be captured by Hydra alongside Bucky. Would they remember more things together? Would he still be protective? I'm just generally curious about what would have taken place if that were to happen.

NO ENDGAME SPOILERS

Nameless Blurb!

Pairings: Nurse!Reader X Bucky Barnes, Nurse!Reader X Winter Soldier

Words: 1.7K

Nameless Masterlist

Everything hurt. Bucky’s body screamed at him every time his lungs tried to expand for air. His face was pressed into the dirt of his cell, and he watched the dust that was kicked up after every exhale. It danced and twirled in the sunlight provided by the one barred window and he watched it, losing track of time and waiting. Just waiting. 

They had taken his arm last week-- a tactic to try to break him and leak the information that the Howlin Commandos were privy to, but nothing worked. If Bucky Barnes was anything at all he was stubborn. 

Or he was until they opened the cell door. 

You were there, held up by two HYDRA soldiers before being thrown in without much care for your unconscious body. 

No, no, no, no. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. You and Steve and Peggy were supposed to get out and look for him. Yo were supposed to break into the base and rescue him like the damsel he felt like. He tried to crawl over to your body, praying to whatever God that was out there that you were breathing, and they hadn’t just thrown your corpse in with him. 

That would suck. 

He was about a foot away before the chain shackled around his wrist held him back and he let out a hoarse cry. If he had his arm-- if he was still a whole man he would be able to reach you. 

“Y/N!” He shouted, tugging at the chains and crying again when they wouldn’t budge. He collapsed in on himself and screamed until your nose wrinkled and you let out a whine. 

“Shhh,” You whispered, eyes still closed and brow furrowed. “My head hurts.”

Bucky’s head shot up and he pulled on the chains again, trying to get to you. 

“Y/N,” He said, snot dripping from his nose and tears falling over his cheeks. “Baby, get up. Show me you can get up.”

You groaned and rolled over onto your side to face him, gasping when you opened your eyes to see him. 

He was filthy, only a few slivers of skin shone from the blood and dirt caked on his face. He was shirtless, a few poorly sewn stab wounds littered his torso where there would be no vitals hit, and his pants were ripped and torn. He was barefoot too, toenails missing and infected looking. 

That wasn’t what made you scream though. 

There was a bandage over his shoulder, covering what used to be his arm. There were strips of skin missing, peaking out from the bandage and across his chest. They were browned with dry blood and the skin around them looked hot and irritated. 

“James.” You cried, pulling yourself up enough to crawl over to him. “What the hell did they do to you?” Your soft hands cradled his cheeks and he sighed. It was the first gentle touch he’d felt in months-- maybe years. 

“They tried to break me, Babygirl.” He whispered, shining eyes looking up at you. You surged forward, capturing his weak lips in your own. His breath tasted like a mixture of sour and blood and you cried into his mouth. 

“You’re so strong, James. I’m here now. We're gonna be okay.” You wept, pressing your forehead against his. He let out a cry. 

You were never supposed to be here. Not like this. 

“Tell us where the Tesseract is.” Growled one of the masked men. Bucky spat at him, blood and phlegm coating the eye sockets of the mask. 

“Fuck you.” He repeated for the ninth time. He didn’t know where Steve or Peggy would have put it. They wouldn’t know that, though. He still had leeway-- the information he may or may not know could be the very reason Bucky was still alive today. 

“Fine.” Growled the man who picked up a knife from the table and twirled it in his gloved hand. “Bring her in.”

You were brought in, then. A fresh bruise blossoming red on your cheek and a wild look in your eyes. They had treated you better than himself, thank God, but now the man was walking towards you and he wanted to scream. 

“Don't touch her! Don't you fucking touch her!” Bucky screamed, pulling at the ropes that bound him to the metal chair under him. 

“Then tell us where the Tesseract is, or I’m gonna make her fuckin’ scream my name.” The man said, smirk in his voice, and Bucky’s vision went black around the edges. He looked to you-- stunned and scared but still defiant and shaking your head no at him. Whatever he knew, he couldn’t tell them. But then the knife went into your thigh and you screamed so loud the walls around you vibrated. 

Bucky yelled. 

“I don’t know! I don’t fucking know, okay! I know nothing!” He cried and his face crumpled when he pulled the blade from your thigh and watched your pants slowly grow with red. 

“I figured.” The man smirked. 

Bucky’s brain felt like mush. Like electrocuted mush. Mush that hurt and stung and made him want to curl up into a ball and die. 

He was on the thin mattress in your shared cell-- everything seemed very far away though. The dripping from the leaky pipe echoed around the room a mile away and the cell door opened and closed. It could have been seconds or years before he felt a very familiar hand on his face. Why did he know this touch?

He opened his eyes, squinting a the light still streaming through that damn window and looked at the person touching him. She was beautiful, but she looked tired, and his brows crinkled in the middle. Why was someone like you in a place like this? 

“Bucky?” She whispered, hands warm and soothing on his aching skin. Everything hurt. 

“Who’re you?” He whispered, foggy mind unable to place a name to the face. He could see your heartbreak by the expression on your face. 

“Y/N.” She said, without hesitation. “I made you wit four months before I told you that.” She tried to smile but it just looked painful. 

He blinked slowly. Once, twice before recognition flooded his eyes. 

“Doll. Shit, I’m-- I’m sorry. Today was--”

“Intense. I know. I’m here for you. I’m not goin anywhere.”

“You should though, go somewhere.”

“You and I both know that’s impossible.”

Thirty years had passed. It was a time of bright pants and big hair and frankly, the soldier didn’t care much for the ugly shirt that he had to wear or the bangs that were in his face and eyes and wouldn’t let him get a clear shot. 

He just wanted to get home to Y/N. He didn’t remember her, or why he had started calling her that, but she smiled when he did and it was nice to know that he was good to someone. 

He fired the gun in his hand and stayed still as people launched into action. Blood was covering the backseat, and a woman in pink was crying and screaming. 

He wanted to go home to her. 

So he packed up and climbed into the black truck waiting for him and sat silently while the SHEILD agents cuffed him, put that damn muzzle on and drove. 

He was home soon enough, the long hallways bathed in ugly green light and he winced as he felt the all too familiar pressure in the front of his skull-- another headache brought on by the fluorescent lights. 

The cell door to his room was opened and he was shoved in, stumbling only slightly before looking up and seeing her on the bed. No matter how many times he had to be frozen or put into the chair, he never, ever forgot how good she was. 

Y/N. 

She looked up from where she was reading a book from her place on the bed and smiled. Her thirty-year-old t-shirt was full of holes and hung off her body due to the weight she had lost, but her eyes which were full of relief at his return was enough to make his head spin. 

She jumped off the bed and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he didn’t hesitate to wrap both arms around her, burying his face in her neck and breathing her in. They were nicer to her than they were to him-- allowing her showers and actual meals rather than IV fluids, and it made him happy to see that she was better off than he was. 

She hadn’t spoken to him in decades-- they had tortured her one hour for every word she spoke when they were first captured, and she had eventually been conditioned to stay silent. 

He knew her though. 

She pulled him into their bed shortly after, stripping her shirt off and allowing him to trace her skin with whatever he wanted. He kissed each puckered scar on her body and was gentle enough that the callouses on his fingers tickled her sides, eliciting sweet sounds of laughter through her moans. Good reward for a good mission. 

They were put under once more the next day, only seeing each other when they were needed. Each time, wordlessly exchanging looks and touches to convey that while they didn’t have the best life, they were together.

It was 2014 when Soldat didn’t return home on time. She was waiting for him in her usual spot, patient as ever when she heard the gunshots and the screams. She looked up in fear when the cell door was blown off its hinges and thrown into the wall beside the bed, revealing an angry, and desperate soldier. 

He stalked forward and she backed up on the bed to try to avoid his aggression before he caught her ankle and pulled her to the edge of the bed, gathering her in his arms and carrying her out of the room. She hadn't left this room in decades, always chained or sitting and the muscles she once had had long since disappeared. She would certainly need her cane for the rest of her life rather than the short stint Howard Stark had recommended all those aeons ago. 

“We’re gonna get you out of here, Y/N. We’re gonna go far away from here for a long time.” His voice was gruff, but there was something there. Something minuscule that reminded of her best guy from the war. 

They were gonna be fine.