#quest pistols show

[unknownmortallity]

Ты так красива, невыносимо

Рядом с тобою, быть нелюбимым ...

[calenca]

there’s probably like one other person who will get this, but Joker Out gives “Quest Pistol Show, boyband edition” in the best way possible

[in-finitesuns]

i feel like i need to have a list of mass effect 2 things i'll never stop thinking about, in no particular order

the entirety of the Overlord DLC and the fact that the paragon interrupt is pistol whipping Archer lmao

tali's response to the paragon interrupt (hugging her) after finding her father's body in her loyalty mission (the 'damn it. damn it, i'm sorry.)

liara and femshep's reunion during lair of the shadow broker (romanced)

joker's jump (i got him killed once SORRY JOKER)

how strong kelly chambers comes off IMMEDIATELY AND HOW OUT OF POCKET SHE CAN BE (bbgirl you would be the most unethical therapist ever)

legion's loyalty quest and the heretical geth reveal

so i destroyed the heretical geth and having a max out paragon meter but then getting that +30 renegade oops (i understand why but i would do ANYTHING for tali)

samara after killing morinth and her three lines: "Shepard. What do you think I will say? What can I say? I just killed the bravest and smartest of my daughters." and "There are no words. I will try another time. For now, show mercy on a broken old warrior and let us leave." and "I am a ruined vessel of sorrow and regret, but I am free." i wept

the little interlude femshep had with the liara picture on her desk

also rip to all my fish that i tried and failed to keep alive

[edit] I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT TALI CALLING SHEP CAPTAIN AT THE END OF TREASON INSTEAD OF COMMANDER - both the absolute DEVASTATION and GRIEF SHE MUST BE FEELING and also HONOR she bestows on you in that moment i'm screaming crying throwing up

[edit 2] I FORGOT ABOUT THE GIANT HUMAN REAPER AT THE END?

[barrel-crow-n]

Obviously, we know that Inej knows Kaz best but really, even she doesn't know him - or at least, doesn't understand many parts to him.

"He just lets go" about a boy who has never let anything go. Who, since he was nine years old, has been unhealthily obsessed with Pekka and taking him down. Who was still obsessed with this revenge eight years later. Who hears his dead brother's voice in his head - cruelly egging him on on this maddened quest for vengeance. Who remembered every single last detail of the Hertzoon con; who killed eveyone involved.

People criticise this line, and rightfully because it's plain wrong, but it goes to show how isolated Kaz is and that even with the person he trusts most, he still holds many cards close to his chest. He still hasn't shed his armour completely - not even with Inej.

Inej also doesn't understand Kaz's language. She knows the signals he has established with her for moves and attacks but, funnily enough, it's only ever Matthias that truly reads Kaz (understanding his micro expressions and how he cares about Inej). She understands that she is trusted because he takes off his gloves - but even then doesn't seem to understand the extent; Kaz strips in front of her, as a show of trust - that he's willing to expose himself to her, but she doesn't understand that this is what he is trying to convey. I highly doubt this is a way of wooing Inej. At least, that that was the main reason. He was being vulnerable with her, showing his underbelly.

Kaz cannot say he cares, but he also can't seem to show it either - not in a conventional way, anyway. He carries Inej to the Ferolind despite it causing him pain, he yanks out the eye of the man who stabbed her. He says "I protect my investments." And that sounds completely dickish, but Kaz doesn't show appreciation. Ever. Inej doesn't understand that "I protect my investments" means "I want to look after you because you mean a lot to me" because that's what it means!!! In Kaz's language. "Protect" -> Look after, take care of, defend. "Investments" -> Very important to him, more valuable over time (liking her more and more as times goes on). "I protect my investments" isn't the stupid, asshole line Nina and a lot of people read it as. It's Kaz's kinda mean, not betraying how much it means to him, round about way of showing he cares. He won't say it outright because living in the Barrel has taught him that that is dangerous.

This is shown again when he says "I would come for you. And if I couldn't walk I'd crawl to you. And no matter how broken we were, we'd fight our way out, knives drawn, pistols blazing, because that's what we do, we never stop fighting." He can't say a simple "I care about you." but he can say all that. Why? Because he ties his care to violence. Protection. Causing harm to defend Inej. (Strooooong dog motifs for Kaz btw - the people of the Barrel were spot on with the rabid dog nickname)

And it links to how all the characters are always saying "ohh he's so mysterious, I don't know anything about him, where he came from, or what his motives are" when Kaz is literally openly saying everything.

He doesn't not speak of his trauma or his feelings! He talks about them all the time! He just isnt straightforward.

"Barrel boys don't have parents, they're born in the harbours and crawl out of the canals."

"My mother is Ketterdam, she birthed me in the harbour."

He's literally talking about being "dead" (thrown on the Reaper's Barge), how that affected him (traumatised him so bad he feels like he is no longer the same boy, that he was reborn as something else - a monster), about having to crawl out of the harbour, wet and weak from fever. He openly admits he's an orphan. He talks about it! Just in a cryptic way. A way no one understands.

It's like he's crying out, with people not far, but no one hears him. Like he's still on the Barge, making a futile attempt to cry out "I'm still alive." The Barge still has that hold on him. It's a manifestation of the trauma. It's the same way the flashbacks taking him back to that miserable night. A prison that he can't seem to ever be free from.

When he tells Inej "Tell Jesper he's missed around the Slat." he's doing it again, just more blatantly and more obvious, so that she picks up on it this time. He's showing her his language! Telling her to read into what he is saying! He's saying that he misses Jesper in his detached, cryptic way.

And this is so important with everything Kaz says. Reading between the lines - that's how you start to understand him. We get a cheat sheet by seeing his internal thoughts, but his dramatic talk is the olive branch for outsiders.

When Inej is asking him to open up, she isn't asking that he should share his problems and vulnerabilities like she believes she is saying. She's asking him to be more direct. And that's the difficult part for Kaz.

[kharonion]

Hi I'm suddenly Emotional thinking about this one tiny part of Kerry's quest...

Seems like a generic video game thing of "oh wow, look at his unique weapon for your collection", but to me, it's anything but.

Because this is the same firearm Kerry walks out of the shower with. And sure, you can write that off as something less if you want but... the implications are harrowing.

Especially when you think about the moments in Holdin' On—when Johnny tells V about Kerry's past attempts on his own life, when Kerry evades all the questions about the tabloids and then lets slip how everyone in his employ has that very day off. When you think about how he doesn't need to readily arm himself for defense because he has numerous bots patrolling the villa at all times.

When you think about the implication that if V did not show up that day, there would've been catastrophic consequences.

And now, we fast-forward to this moment in A Like Supreme, when Kerry hands V the very pistol that could've resulted in that awful result.

The trust he puts into V in this very moment is astronomical, brings me to tears every damn time. Kerry is basically saying without words to V "hey, you saved my damn life", and he takes the first step toward a new lease on life, feeling more invigorated—and even a smidgen more positive.

Essentially, this is just a small yet powerful moment that tugs at my soul every time, and I wanted to talk about it. :')

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

Punk music is, politically speaking, a vehicle that was built to express sentiments of working class rage and destructive tendencies. That doesn't mean it's perfectly left wing, poor people are not perfectly left wing. From the patches and safety pins and ripped denim that are staples of punk fashion to the subject matter of songs by the Dead Kennedys, The Clash, Black Flag, and even the Sex Pistols, its all class rage and resentment all the way down.

Goth and Punk both as subcultural movements have relatively clear intentions, even if the politics get jumbled. They're nihilistic, angry, angsty reactions to a world that beats down on poor people. It's the idea that there is something deeply wrong with a society that doesn't take care of its people and using music to express how you feel about that situation.

I came up in the 2010s, which meant that Emo was on the back end of its moment when I was discovering music outside of my parent's taste and whatever was on the radio. I've heard a lot of things about the emo movement as it relates to other subcultures but one thing I heard that I want to respond to here is that it's not about anything, which is not perfectly correct but it looks that way on the surface and is actually a very interesting observation. Punk's about how we can't pay the rent our government is taking advantage of us, rich people are taking advantage of us, and unlike those hippies who think they can solve all the worlds problems with peace and love and non violent protest, we're gonna break stuff. We're gonna make it everyone else's problem. Goth coming from the punk scene was less angry and more purely nihilistic and death obsessed but still had that sort of vibe of the aristocracy's time has come, look how easily I can look like a decaying version of them. Emo doesn't really have that clear of a message by comparison.

I would like to posit that this is because Emo is end of history punk. There's still that feeling that there's something deeply wrong, there's still angst and rage and nihilism and resentment, but by now the enemies of the United States' capitalistic global hegemony have fallen, there is no alternative, terrible things keep happening but the propaganda machine is pumping it into your brain every single day that this is the best of all possible worlds. The problem can't be society it has to be you.

So punk music evolves, we're not doing a revolution anymore the revolution is dead, we're not watching it decay anymore because this shambling corpse won't drop dead and has managed to convince us it's immortal. But the feelings are all still there. So they turn inward. The destruction becomes self-destruction. You can't be feeling this way because society is bad, it must be you, you must be depressed, that girl you didn't really like that much broke up with you, maybe it's that. It couldn't possibly be the fact that you're poor and you're sick but can't get help and the corporations are destroying the planet and you can't do anything about it. This is the best of all possible worlds, remember? You are an acceptable casualty of that, if you don't like it you can either suck it up, take pills, or slit your wrists, the choice is yours. And the emo scene says maybe I will slit my wrists because I can't live like this.

I think now both punk music and emo music along with the fashion are having a bit of an interesting revival, and I don't think the revival is good but I definitely think it is necessarily a sign of the times. The common person has been given access to a certain level of celebrity, the cracks in the political hegemony that the 90s and 00s propaganda told us would last until the heat death of the universe are showing, corporations in their quest for endless growth have made us into modern serfs and commodified every aspect of our lives. We see so much death every day from covid from state violence that used to be easier to cover up. The apocalypse we were warned about but unable to stop is here. There's an appetite for the nihilism, the rage, the self destruction from the failure to change anything, and in pursuit of profit, the companies see that appetite and respond to it with fast fashion and industry plants, and the common person who is under constant surveillance and has been convinced it's what they want has prettied up the grittier aspects of the scene in order to make it social media ready. The goth bars close and the regular bar has an emo night, social media influencers who used to bully you for your DIY fashion does a "Tradgoth" makeup trend that looks more like Gottmik than Siouxie Sioux just to wipe it off and post it for a Sephora sponsorship. You say anything about any of it and you get accused of being more hardcore than thou even though you're just making observation about the scene you've been in for a decade. And you look around you and the same thing is happening to hip-hop and the state of the music scene is even worse for normies so this is clearly a universal problem.

[tenebraevesper]

Knuckles - The Epilogue

''Ohh, oh, oh, oh, ohh! Who's the hunter, who's the game? I feel the beat, call your name! I hold you close in victory! I don't wanna tame your animal style! You won't be caged in the call of the wild! Shootin' at the walls of heartache! Bang, bang! I am the warrior! Well, I am the warrior, and heart to heart you'll win! If you survive the warrior! The warrior! Shootin' at the walls of heartache! Bang, bang! I am the warrior! Well, I am the warrior, and heart to heart you'll win! If you survive the warrior! The warrior!''

– The Warrior by Scandal (Knuckles)

xXxXxXx

Knuckles the Echidna held his head up high proudly as he was driving his newly acquired motorcycle on the road back to Green Hills. He briefly reached for the brown fedora with a black band and three gold stars in red with gold lining circles at the front of the band to flick it up, nodding his head along with the song that was playing on Wade Whipple's smartphone, The Warrior by Scandal. He had already decided that this song was his jam and was more than happy to let Wade play it on loop as they were driving back home.

Wade in turn, was keeping a tight grip on his new bowling trophy, cheering and singing to the song. Not only did he prove his worth by beating his father who had abandoned him at TJ Maxx, Pistol Pete Whipple, at the Bowling Tournament in Reno, Nevada, but also aiding Knuckles in defeating that old crazy man, The Buyer, or whoever he was, who had allied himself with the two rogue G.U.N. Agents to steal Knuckles' power. He truly became a warrior in his own right.

''Finally, we are back at home! I shall ask Maddie to prepare a feast in celebration of our victory and regale my tribe with the tales of our adventure,'' Knuckles said joyfully.

''I'm sure they'll be excited to hear what had happened!'' Wade shouted enthusiastically, having to admit that he was also quite excited to brag to Tom and Maddie about his accomplishment. Both of them were certain that they would be welcomed at Green Hills with open arms.

xXx

''I got it, I got it!'' Tails managed to catch the baseball Sonic had thrown, with the two playing catch in the backyard. He flew up, about to throw it back at Sonic, when both of them heard the sound of an engine and Tails saw who had just arrived. ''It's Knuckles! Knuckles is back!''

''What?'' Sonic was surprised, with Tails beckoning the blue hedgehog to follow him to the front driveway. Both of them were stunned to see the echidna riding on a motorcycle with Wade sitting behind him and holding a trophy. Sonic and Tails were happy to see the person who was basically their older brother at this point, with Sonic elbowing Tails, a wide smile on his expression. ''See? I told you he'd be fine! I guess Knuckles just needed… eh, a motorcycle and a hat?''

''I guess he was on some kind of road trip with Wade,'' Tails said, drawing conclusion from what he saw.

To be honest, neither of them had a clue where Knuckles had vanished to and they did search for him after realizing that he wasn't anymore at the attic, but Sonic was confident that Knuckles would be just fine. Tails was a bit worried about Knuckles, but he had to agree with Sonic that their older brother had been through worse and that he would be back eventually. They both concluded that he had probably gone on some kind of quest worthy of a warrior and they were curious what it was about.

''Knuckles, where were you?'' Sonic asked as Knuckles and Wade got off the motorcycle. ''Also, what's up with the hat and the motorcycle? Have you decided to join the Hells Angels?''

''I don't know any of these Angels that live in Hell, and no, I didn't join them. Instead, I had decided to take up the task of training Wade Whipple into becoming a proper warrior and defeat his greatest enemy on the battleground of Reno, Nevada,'' Knuckles replied, turning to Wade.

''Well, I don't want to brag too much…'' Wade started, only to show Sonic and Tails the trophy he had, ''…but I completely destroyed my old man in the bowling tournament! Ha! My dad never saw it coming! You should've seen me!''

''You have earned your title as a warrior. Your journey is complete,'' Knuckles said. Wade gave him a sincere smile.

''I wouldn't have managed to get so far without you Knuckles. Thank you,'' he replied. Knuckles tipped his head and nodded in acknowledgement, then turned towards Sonic.

''I also owe a 'Thank you' to you, Hedgehog. Your speech may have been confusing and your methods have not suited my ways, but you were right. Green Hills… No, Earth is now my home,'' Knuckles told him, with Sonic chuckling, being quite happy to hear that. He placed a hand on Knuckles' shoulder, giving him a wide smile.

''I knew you'd come around eventually. Your place is here, with us, and all it took was a road trip to Nevada to realize that. As a matter of fact, I also had to go on a road trip to realize that I wanted to stay on Earth instead of going to Mushroom Planet,'' Sonic said. Knuckles hummed in thought.

''You never told me that. Perhaps, going on a road trip is necessary ritual to accept Earth as your home.'' Knuckles then turned to Tails. ''Then, you are the next one to experience a road trip, Fox.''

''N-No, thanks… I've already been on a road trip with Sonic in Siberia. I don't think I need another one,'' Tails replied.

The group was about to go inside the house, when they suddenly heard loud steps coming from inside and saw Maddie approaching them. Sonic and Tails' eyes widened, as they realized that they kind of forgot about the aftermath of Knuckles' sudden disappearance. To say that the matriarch of the Wachowski family was furious was an understatement. It all started when Maddie went upstairs to deliver Knuckles the plate with his dinner, only to find out that the echidna was completely gone. Then, all Hell broke loose.

''Sonic, Tails? Where is Knuckles? Have you seen him?'' Maddie asked, her expression the epitome of serenity, but her eyes blazing with motherly rage. Sonic and Tails looked at each other nervously, having been playing video games in the living room.

''Uh, no? We've been here the whole day,'' Sonic replied. Maddie narrowed her eyes, with Sonic offering an anxious smile.

''Are you sure? You haven't heard anything or seen anything…?'' she asked again, with Sonic knowing that look. He knew that, if Maddie ever caught them lying about Knuckles' whereabouts, they were doomed. She may have been their motherly figure, but Sonic felt that he'd rather go against a Dr. Eggman powered up with the Master Emerald again than deal with a furious Maddie.

''No, we didn't hear nor see anything. We would've seen Knuckles if he tried to get past us,'' Sonic replied.

''Maybe he escaped through the window?'' Tails suggested. Maddie sighed in frustration, grabbing her smartphone.

''I don't know, but he'll be in so much trouble when he gets home,'' she said, walking into the next room and calling Tom, followed by Wade, followed by every person she knew in Green Hills about Knuckles' whereabouts. Meanwhile, Tails turned back to Sonic with a worried look on his expression.

''Do you think that I should've used one of my holograms to pretend that Knuckles was still here?'' he asked.

''No, because if you did that, we'd be in huge trouble and trust me, you don't want to experience what happens when Maddie gets angry. We just have pretend that we didn't know that Knuckles went missing until now, and we'll be fine,'' Sonic assured him.

''Okay, but what about Knuckles? What if he's in danger? We should go search for him,'' Tails replied.

''You said it yourself, Knuckles is the greatest warrior in the galaxy, so I wouldn't worry about him getting into trouble. He probably had gone to do some soul-searching and will be back in no time,'' Sonic said in a confident tone. Tails went silent for a moment, then gave Sonic a look of concern, his eyes wide.

''Do you think that Knuckles may have decided that he doesn't want to stay here anymore, at Green Hills? With us?'' he asked. Sonic shook his head.

''Absolutely not! You know that Knuckles considers us his tribe and he wouldn't go back on his promise. We made a power bump and we're brothers at this point. He will return, I'm sure,'' Sonic said, with Tails nodding in acknowledgement. ''Besides, the Master Emerald is still hidden in our roon, and we both know he wouldn't go anywhere without it.''

Tails chuckled. ''Yeah, you're right about that.''

Back in the present moment, neither Tails nor Sonic felt like laughing when they saw a furious Maddie stomping over to Knuckles and Wade. Knuckles and Wade's proud grins immediately faded away when they realized that she wasn't as overjoyed to see them as they thought she would be. Maddie inhaled deeply, glaring daggers at both of them.

''Knuckles, where have you been? Do you know how worried I was?'' she asked.

''I was merely on a quest with Wade,'' Knuckles said, sensing the tension in the air. As for Wade, he realized that both he and Knuckles were in deep trouble, even though he technically didn't do anything to piss off Maddie. He was startled when she suddenly turned to him.

''Also, why haven't you called me and told me that Knuckles was with you the whole time?! I've been searching the whole town for him!'' she said furiously.

''Maddie, look… I think you should just calm down and let us explain…'' Wade said, slowly stepping back. Even if he was a warrior now, he knew how to pick his battles. Throwing bowling balls at a guy in a robot mecha while powered up with Knuckles' quills was nothing compared to an angry Maddie.

Maddie pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled. ''Fine, but you-'' she pointed at Knuckles ''-are still grounded. How long you'll be grounded depends on your reasons for leaving.''

''I will accept my grounding with honor,'' Knuckles responded, also being well aware that there were some battles he simply couldn't fight, no matter how much he wanted to. He also figured that he wouldn't be punished for leaving once Maddie hears and understands his reasons. The group then walked into the house, with Sonic giving Knuckles an amused smile.

''I guess thinks can't get worse now, do they?'' he said.

''Don't worry, Hedgehog, I'm confident that I will be able to defend my case,'' Knuckles replied.

''Heh, we'll see about that,'' Tails said.

xXx

Unknown to Sonic, Tails and Knuckles, the situation actually got worse. Sort of. Of course, they believed that Dr. Eggman was gone and that G.U.N. wouldn't be bothering them again, and there were certainly no new adversaries attacking Green Hills, but the reason for that was because their new foe was miles away from Montana.

Nobody really payed any attention to the black and red hedgehog walking through a casino in Reno, figuring that he was just some kind of mascot or a guy in a costume. The hedgehog, in turn, was content with the lack of attention, solely focused on his own task. He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and focusing on the strange sensation that he felt, turning on his heel and walking towards the source of this sensation. He had already made the mistake to not follow his senses and instead focused on his memories, only to end up at a familiar bowling alley. Scoffing, he returned back to the other part of the building, being guided by this sensation.

He then stopped in front of a glass case, which displayed a bunch of trophies and photographs of previous winners of the bowling tournament, along with a green diamond-shaped gem inside it. He smirked, and his body became enveloped in orange sparking energy. The glass suddenly shattered as he punched through it, grabbing the green jewel.

''It all starts with this… A jewel containing the ultimate power…'' Shadow the Hedgehog stated, lifting the green Chaos Emerald up. His ears flicked when he heard people shouting, with the security guards arriving at the scene.

''What are you doing?! You can't just break the glass and steal-'' Before the security guard could even finish his sentence, Shadow furrowed a brow, shooting him a glare. He then held out the Chaos Emerald. ''There's no time for games… Farewell! Chaos Control!''

The security guard was left baffled when the hedgehog suddenly vanished into thin air. He then shook his head, deciding that he wasn't payed enough for this weirdness.

xXx

High above on a cliff overlooking Green Hills, there was a flash of light, revealing a small figure appearing seemingly out of nowhere. The figure narrowed his golden eyes, his body enveloped in cyan sparking energy.

''I hope that I'm in the right time. I can't let the future get destroyed!'' Silver the Hedgehog stated. ''I need to find that person, the wielder of the Flames of Destruction!''

He then flew up, his body covered in cyan energy, and flew towards where he believed his foe waited, determined to make sure that the future wouldn't turn into a desolate wasteland covered in flames and ashes.

Links:

#Current Chapter

#Sonic Cyber Revolution (Masterlist)

[beardedmrbean]

To the list of the world’s most dangerous activities, it seems we must add a very 21st–century pursuit: selfie-taking.

The number of people who have lost their lives while trying to get that perfect shot has spiked sharply in recent years. For a time, Wikipedia kept a running total, estimating 379 people have died in selfie-related accidents between 2008 and 2021, with hundreds more sustaining serious injuries.

Since then, other sources suggest the toll had risen to as many as 480 fatalities by the end of 2024. By way of comparison, far more people die from taking selfies than from shark attacks, which on average account for 5-6 deaths per year globally.

Naturally, many of those incidents occur in the world’s most picturesque spots, or those made famous by popular movies or TV shows. But the authorities in these places are starting to take action. The small Japanese city of Otaru has announced that it is hiring security guards to manage the swarms of selfie-taking tourists who are so intent on getting the best shot that they don’t see danger coming.

Visitors are drawn not just by the idyllic view of the nearby port and ocean, but by their devotion to the 2015 movie Cities in Love; the city’s sloping street, Funami-za, is showcased in the film.

However, that single-minded quest can have dire consequences: earlier this month a Chinese woman died after she walked onto the railway tracks and was struck by the train. Her husband told local police that his wife was so intent on photographing the iconic location that she didn’t see the train coming.

The problem is not confined to Japan, however. A read of Wikipedia’s page listing worldwide selfie-related deaths and injuries is startling – everything from accidental shootings to drownings and even death by hand grenade.

The allure of social media recognition

Steve Cole, policy director at the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents (RoSPA), reports that, according to a recent study, falls from height are the most common injury mechanism in selfie-related incidents, followed by drowning. “This trend of taking selfies in hazardous locations, such as on the edge of cliffs or during extreme weather conditions, is a concerning behaviour.”

He adds: “The allure of social media recognition often drives individuals to take these unnecessary risks, underestimating the potential dangers involved.” RoSPA urges the public to respect safety warnings and barriers, be mindful of their environment, and use common sense.

Survivalist Ray Mears told The Times recently that he is now forced to instruct his clients not to step backwards off a cliff while taking a selfie, “which was never the case in the past”. He’s not alone. In 2023 Oldham Mountain Rescue instructed hikers not to take selfies on the striking but precarious Trinnacle, a highly dramatic and extremely photogenic exposed rock formation, near Saddleworth in the Peak District, while the Environment Agency has advised against taking so-called “storm selfies” during extreme weather events.

Similar pleas have come from the UK Coastguard, which issued a warning in 2017 against selfie-taking on the eroding cliffs at Seaford Head in East Sussex. Maritime Commander Mark Rodway commented: “People take great risks to get a dramatic photograph of themselves on a dangerous cliff edge. No selfie is worth risking your life for.”

Yet risk it people do. In 2015 the Russian government was forced to launch a “Safe Selfie” campaign after a spate of incidents, including a 21-year-old woman shooting herself in the head while taking a selfie with a pistol, and two young Russian soldiers in the Urals pulling the pin from a live hand grenade. Tragically the men both died, but, eerily, a picture of their rash stunt remained on their phone. The government leaflet warned: “A cool selfie could cost you your life.”

However, for many social media influencers, cool selfie-taking is big business, and getting a daring shot is one sure way to stand out in a crowded market. After all, everyone now snaps pictures with their smartphones.

Travel writer Siân Anna Lewis, who runs the blog The Girl Outdoors and frequently posts striking shots on her Instagram @sianannalewis, says: “It is much more competitive now – it’s harder to get started and create a social media platform than it was 10 years ago. You need to have an angle. People are clicking through images quickly so you only have a couple of seconds to be eye-catching.”

That certainly worked for daredevil Russian teenager Alexander Remnev, whose stomach-churning selfies from atop the towering skyscrapers in Dubai – including the 1,350-foot Princess Tower – became a sensation in 2014.

‘It’s a kind of bravado or machismo’

Mark Griffiths, Distinguished Professor of Behavioural Addictions at Nottingham Trent University, ran a study on “selfitis” (or selfie addiction) in 2018. He believes that the psychology of those who take risks for selfies is actually similar to risk-takers through the ages. “It’s not a new phenomenon – we’ve had storm-chasers for years. It’s a kind of bravado or machismo. The difference is now you can record it.”

However, he notes that taking and sharing selfies is also tied to self-esteem, especially in adolescents and young people. “You get a feeling of validation when your selfie gets hundreds of likes. That motivates people to compete with one another for attention and look for something which gives them the edge.

“Risk-taking often translates into higher numbers of likes, especially if you’re doing something extreme that no one else has done. You want to provoke a reaction. It’s constant one-upmanship.”

But such a contest can have deadly consequences. In 2015 an English hiker in the Brecon Beacons was struck by lightning – it’s suspected that his extended metal selfie stick actually acted as a lightning rod. Meanwhile in Pamplona, David Gonzalez Lopez was gored to death while trying to take a selfie in the midst of the Running of the Bulls. Taking selfies during the event is now illegal.

The following year, Chinese businessman Jia Lijun tried to take a selfie with a female walrus at the Xixiakou Wildlife Park in Rongcheng city: he was a big fan of the walrus, and had been excitedly sending videos and photos to his friends. However, the 1.5-ton walrus grabbed Lijun and dragged him into the pool. It was apparently playful behaviour, but the walrus drowned both Lijun and a zookeeper who tried to help.

Another animal attack took place in 2024. Prahlad Gujjar scaled a 12-foot fence at the Sri Venkateswara Zoological Park in southern India and tried to take a selfie with a lion. He was mauled to death.

Trains also feature heavily in these selfie cautionary tales. Eighteen-year-old Romanian Anna Ursu was trying to take “the ultimate selfie” in 2015 when she posed on top of a train with one leg lifted. However, her leg touched a live wire and she was electrocuted with 27,000 volts. Ursu burst into flames and suffered burns on more than half her body; she was pronounced dead at the hospital.

Another fatal selfie trend is scaling vertiginous buildings.

In 2017 Chinese “rooftopper” Wu Yongning, who often posted dramatic images and videos of himself dangling from skyscrapers (without safety equipment), died after falling from a 62-story building in Changsha.

A fairytale visit turned into a horror story for Czech gymnast Natalie Stichova in 2024. While taking a selfie at Neuschwanstein Castle in Bavaria, the impressive edifice that reportedly inspired Walt Disney’s Sleeping Beauty, Stichova slipped from the cliff edge and plunged 260 feet. The gymnast had previously posted pictures of herself doing handstands on mountaintops.

Last year also saw the tragic death of Indian travel influencer Aanvi Kamdar, who was filming social media content at the top of the Kumbhe Waterfall when she slipped and fell down the 300-foot gorge.

There is some backlash to risk-taking images, perhaps as a result of this spate of fatalities. American travel influencer couple Kody Workman and Kelly Castille, who post on the Instagram account @positravelty, faced criticism for a photo taken in Ubud, Bali, in which they kiss while Workman holds Castille over the edge of an infinity pool – with a terrifying sheer drop beneath her. “That’s why so many people die taking a selfie!” fumed one commenter.

But the picture still got plenty of attention: it’s as aspirational as it is alarming. It seems plenty of people would rather risk death for a perfect image than risk being ignored.

[lady06reaper]

Oh! Maybe Weaponmaker!reader who works for Mafia leader Kenny? Like while Kenny's all dangerous and proper. Reader is all mechanic and also dangerous lol.

Like imagine one of those weapon makers you see on side quests during a playthrough game. Always wearing gloves and a mysterious cape only to be hella lot when they take it off 👀 - marshmellow

this reminds me of the merchant from RE4, like all dangerous and mysterious but in a sexy way

Mafia Leader!Kenny x Weapon Smith!Reader

Yall met when Kenny was first starting out in the mafia, you were an experienced weapons Smith who saw potential in kenny

but of course to keep the mystery you didn't show your face to kenny until he became the leader

but oh my you two were a fierce couple when it came to taking down other mafias

your weapons combined with his tactics

lord help whoever was in your path

but when you did show your face he was amazed, like how did that face make all those powerful weapons?

You were in his office he called The Den, where all business took place. He had called you in discuss the newest weapons you were able to get ahold of and modify to your advantages.

"The new semi auto shotties and extended pistol mags are here, but they need work which I can't do until I get that new steel alloy," you sat on his desk while he looked over your blue prints for your latest ideas.

"I'll have my men locate and obtain a shipment for you," he waved his hand and all of his men within The Den left, leaving you and Kenny. He wasn't intimidating to you, you saw him grow from nothing to having everything.

"Now onto more pressing matters my precious weapons smith," he folded his hands and leaned his chin on them to support his head. "I've known you since I was a weakling, and yet, I don't know you at all, why is that?" You gulped down the saliva that gathered in your mouth due to nervousness.

"I like my privacy sir, it's what keeps me in my status."

He hummed in understanding. "I understand that, but you've known me for awhile, I think it's time you return the favor of letting me to get to know you."

You sighed, your head dropped and you realized he was right. You stood up off the desk, and looked him in the eyes through your mask. Your hands shakily came up to your mask, you clicked the buttons on your ears to release the seel. The veil was lifted, and Kenny's eyes squinted as if he was upset with how you looked.

"Are you mad sir?"

"Quite the opposite, why hide such a face behind a mask?" He leaned back in his chair to take you all in. You couldn't tell if it was out of curiosity, or hunger.

"Well, with my mask on I'm the feared weapon smith, without it I'm my own person. I like to keep the two separate."

Kenny nodded in agreement, understanding why you would want to keep the two separate. You wanted your own life away from the mafia, if only Kenny could have that luxury.

"Come here," he patted his lap, you hesitated at first, but after the reassurance of him not going to bite you, you walked over and sat on his lap. "I want to get a good look at my right hand."

Kenny took your face between his palms and moved your head around to look at every nook and cranny your features had to offer. He paused with you facing him, his eyes drifted down to your lips, then back up to your orbs. He opened his mouth to ask permission, but before words came out you nodded yes, too scared to dive in first. Your lips met in a soft kiss, Kenny treated you like you were fragile considering this was new territory to him and you. You separated and looked at each other, his eyes were hooded from the kiss, you both panted trying catch your breaths. A smirk graced his face, which only means bad things, or so you thought.

"Let me get to know you better, strip."

[aealrizen]

It was common for the nearby kids to push open the cathedral doors, sandals slapping the tile as they hurried upstairs to peek in the rooms. Little self designated heroes who had decided it was their job to make sure Midas wasn’t lonely, small hands hanging on the door handle as they asked their repeated question of the day. “Hi, can Midas come out and play today?”

The oldest of them was eight years younger than Midas, but he didn’t mind. On the days he could go with them he did enjoy being able to amuse them, and indulge in their mutual quest to keep him entertained. It was how he’d ended up learning to shoot pistols. The kids had found parts in the scrap dropped off from the other cities before, and after Midas had fixed them up they insisted on setting up a shooting range for him to show off in. He had learned that he was good at it too, when his hands didn’t shake from bone deep pain. The weapons were only toys now, deliberately rigged to only shoot enough plasma to knock the cans and bottles with a soft thump that would only bruise the most tender of skin. The kids loved it, especially since they liked to be the ones throwing the different targets into the air.

They didn’t always play with the pistols though. Another favorite pastime was to just push Midas around in a wheelchair and explore the overgrown city. The last place in their world that had plants that grew freely. It was unable to support much human life alongside the greenery though, so most of the ruins still remained. Endless playgrounds for unoccupied minds.

It was during one such excursion that the kids had decided to take a break in a more open clearing. Dusty stone with patches of moss and other plants crawling over the remains of life from before the cyborg war. Midas was just sitting where they had pushed him, watching as the four kids ranging from four years old to eight explored the area.

“Look! A slide!” Millie, the second oldest by only a few days, declared from the crumbling yet long settled second floor as she held up a battered old sign that was just slightly bigger than her. Midas could only chuckle as she dropped the sign on the top of one of the sloping stones and immediately flopped on top of it to slide down the rubble. It was clever, and Midas was pleased to see shy little Meri’s interest get piqued after seeing Millie reach the end safely. As she hefted the sign up again and rushed off to make the trek back up the stairs Meri joined her, plush bear forever held in her arms.

“See how far you can go at the end,” Midas called to them, giving them a goal to focus on as they played. He could hear the two boys, Conor and Seth, banging on various debris to see what sounds it would make. A crashing melody of obnoxious music and laughter. These kinds of days were usually exhausting, but Midas cherished them. Time outside his room with energy being spent that wasn’t his.

Even this day, which ended less than pleasant, was still important enough for him to remember above others.

The kids had no idea, and Midas could never blame them since none of them could know. He was just thankful that he could recognize the sound of pressurized air hissing moments before it popped the container it was in. Conor’s metal pipe had clanged against something hollow, the ringing causing him to laugh and smack the half buried canister again, unaware of Midas lurching from his chair and forcing his horrible limbs to run towards him.

“CONOR!”

Midas’s voice was accented by his thin frame bodily slamming into the child, only managing to knock him more than a meter away because of their height difference. Midas would have apologized for being so rough, but he didn’t think he would have been able to carry Conor away before the canister burst.

And burst it did. The tiny hiss of air that cut off with the second bang became a shrieking pop as the metal burst outward in ugly peeled shards. Midas barely felt something collide with the bottom of his jaw, his mind more focused on keeping himself from bashing his head on the concrete as he was knocked away by the impact. He caught himself on his arms, and immediately noted the splatter of blood coloring the grey stone below him.

“Midas!”

“Mi-!”

“Midaas!”

Only Meri was too shocked to shout, and Midas mentally assessed his own situation as well as theirs without moving. None of them were crying out of pain, so they shouldn’t be hurt. And when he blinked both eyes they seemed blurred from tears, but otherwise undamaged.

He was lucky.

If one could consider having half their face sliced open from jaw to forehead, lucky. It stung horribly, and Midas was afraid to raise his head and have the blood spilling from the bridge of his nose end up in his mouth or down his throat instead. He was also afraid of traumatizing the kids if they saw it, so he had double motivation to keep his face hidden and low.

“I’m alright,” Midas assured as calmly as he could, hand hovering near his face. “Millie, please take Seth and Meri back to the center square with the rest of the adults. Conor, go fetch my dad,” he directed without looking up at them.

“B’but-,” Conor began to protest, and Midas could hear feet getting closer to him.

“Now please,” Midas cut off, putting a little firmness into his tone to hopefully leave no room for discussion.

There was only a moment more before he heard Millie shuffling to grab Meri and Seth’s hands, quickly dragging them away. “... Okay,” Conor relented, having the others’ movements be enough motivation for him to comply. “I’ll be right back!” he promised quickly, turning to run after the other three.

It took less than ten minutes for others to return. The exploding metal had been loud enough to cause people to investigate, but Midas had still managed to pull the loose hospital shirt over his head and use it to put pressure on his bleeding face as best he could.

“Midas?!” Hesopher was borderline panicked when he got there, collapsing to his knees next to his son as Midas sat up a little more straight and gave him a half hidden grin.

“Hey dad,” he greeted, trying to ignore the taste of blood in his mouth and hoping he didn’t look too creepy with it dripping down his chin. It couldn’t be that bad. Head wounds always bled more than necessary.

It turned out to be worse than Midas had thought. Hesopher had taken only one peek under the makeshift bandage before he’d scooped Midas up and started running back home. He didn’t bother asking what had happened, knowing neither of them would have the breath to speak until they were home.

____________________________

First

____________________________

And finally get to learn how he got that giant scar on his face X'DD a complete accident, wooo

also a bit on where Midas knows Meri from XD

[calder]

"I'd use a bullet on myself, but with all these critters an' mobsters about it feels a waste, don't it?" -Clutch, about why he hasn't killed himself

Clutch Connors is a human male that can be found in the area south of Connors Farm. When approached he will bark a series of quips in a random order, sometimes based on player statistics.

"Razorgrain, rays-or-grain. Heh, yeah. I'll take the grain any day of the week.

Whatever happened to bullfrogs?

You jack off with that arm Mister Meaty? (If the Sacrificial Lamb has a Strength score of 7 or higher.)

'S okay pardner, I'm not much for books either. (If the Sacrificial Lamb's Intelligence is 3 or lower.)

Met a guy named Fallout once, ugly motherfucker.

What the fuck is a cow anyways?

I'm a centrist, 'cept when 'm not.

Don't ask me about roads.

War... What was it about war...?

Please, kill me. Just fucking kill me. Do it before the shmuck with the buttons makes you walk away. Please. (Has a rare chance of occurring if the Sacrificial Lamb has the Wild Wasteland trait.)

Clutch is involved in the quest Saint James Infirmary Blues and is one of the escaped patients the Sacrificial Lamb is tasked with rescuing, while the quest is active, you can speak to him and at first he will be apprehensive about returning, the player can either use a Speech check of 40 to convince him to return, or state that they'll take him there by force, after which he will become immediately hostile. If the Sacrificial Lamb has a Medicine skill of 70 or has Frankie in their party, they can determine that Clutch is not a danger to himself or anyone around him, but unless they can also get Weezel to confess to struggling with gender dysphoria and convince Rhonda Simmons to stop taking Day Tripper to hide her autism, the quest will not be marked as complete until they either kill him or convince him to go back to Dr. Rollins.

After the conclusion of St. James Infirmary Blues where he stays at the farm, Clutch will be hostile to any entities hostile to the Sacrificial Lamb in the area, and the player can initiate dialogue with him where he opens up about his struggles with suicidal thoughts and schizophrenia. After exhausting all dialogue options, every time the Sacrificial Lamb talks to Clutch, he has a chance to give a Fancy Lad Snack Cakes, Instamash, Pork n' Beans, Tin Can Grenade or Radweed Joint to them along with a random statement of gratitude.

Thank you for being my friend.

Thanks for not takin' me t' that funny farm.

Hey, I love you... don't make it weird.

Nobody's ever been that nice to me before, here, have this.

Hey, I like men too. (If the Sacrificial Lamb has the Black Widow perk)

Hey, I like men too... you're not my type, though. (If the Sacrificial Lamb has the Confirmed Bachelor perk)

From one motherfucker to another motherfucker, eh?

Hey don't tell Ma about this one. Heheh. (When giving a Radweed Joint)

If the Sacrificial Lamb instead takes him back to Dr. Rollins, he will be wearing a Patient's Gown and standing inside the New Unity Clinic, where if spoken to, he will normally be silent with the subtitles simply show "..." He has a small chance to whisper "Fuck you." and if the Sacrificial Lamb has the Wild Wasteland trait he can also say, "You know you'll lose Karma for this, right?" At the conclusion of the quest Bad Medicine, if Dr. Rollins is killed, he will sometimes stand over his corpse and talk to it with his arms crossed, regardless of if the Sacrificial Lamb kills Dr. Rollins or gets Ranger Sykes to arrest him, Clutch will eventually return to Connors Farm with his inventory reset, but will keep the barks from convincing him to return to the clinic.

Clutch's inventory contains a random amount of regular 10mm ammunition and one random special 10mm round (but he will have more if the Sacrificial Lamb has the Scrounger perk and kills him.) He is equipped with leather armor and a 10mm pistol. While staying at the New Unity Clinic, he is equipped with a patient gown and his inventory is empty.

Exhausting all of Clutch Connor's dialogue after completing Saint James Infirmary Blues without killing him or returning him to the clinic is essential to completing the Basket Case challenge and receiving its related perk.

Trivia

Clutch almost recites the classic phrase "War never changes." found throughout the Fallout series, but forgets the rest of the sentence.

His apprehension regarding the subject of roads may be a reference to players in Fallout: New Vegas being able to ask characters about the NCR-Legion conflict, where many of them will bring up the safety of roads. (citation needed)

His Wild Wasteland dialogue in the New Unity Clinic is a reference to Karma, a statistic that tracked the morality of players' actions in previous Fallout games.

Mister Meaty was the name of a puppet show that briefly aired on Nickelodeon from 2007-2008.

Glitches

Prior to Patch 1.03, Clutch would become immediately hostile to the Sacrificial Lamb upon starting Saint James Infirmary Blues.

Prior to Patch 1.17, Clutch would sometimes be dead of a gunshot wound if the Sacrificial Lamb approached him and then left Connors Farm without starting or completing Saint James Infirmary Blues. Using console commands to warp directly to the farm from the clinic will show that he was meant to be shooting at tin cans on a fence, but because the cans have no collision until picked up, if a caravan is walking by, he can hit one of the caravan guards, traveling merchants or pack brahmin, causing them to turn hostile and kill him before returning to their route.

Clutch will sometimes use the same combat barks as the Stargazer cultists or Infected Commandos

Clutch will sometimes say one of his perk or item dependent lines when giving the Sacrificial Lamb Pork n' Beans, regardless of if they have the prerequisite perk and not receiving a Radweed Joint.

If Dr. Rollins is spawned in front of Clutch after killing him during the quest Bad Medicine using console commands, he will still talk to him as if he was dead.

this seems to be an entertainment-oriented article for a bunch of fallout that doesnt exist. i have no idea of the context or joke but this was a fun read, thank you !

[f1-junkie]

Got tagged by dearest @underatedwords to share 10 songs im enjoying atm! Thank you Emi!!<з

Here are some of my current go-tos as well as all time favourites that I come back to every so often! Features good ol 2000s-2010s nostalgia and Russian songs!<з

1. Written in the stars - Tinie Tempah ft Eric Turner

2. Motto - David Guetta ft Steve Aoki, Lil Uzi Vert, G-Easy & Mally Mal

3. Поцелуи - Виа Гра

4. American Boy - Комбинация (a fuckin all time banger🤙🏻)

5. Pure Water - Mustard ft Migos

6. Ты так красива - Quest Pistols Show

7. Mirror - Lil Wayne ft Bruno Mars

8. Miles Away - Madonna

9. Башня - Даня Милохин ft Мумий Тролль

10. Я тво�� наркотик - Quest Pistols Show

yep, Russian music industry is definitely not limited to Katya Lel’ only vfhfbbj

Tagging @autumn816 @bejwled @chaoticzoomies @dumbf1sketches @formulaborb @interlvgos @russilton <зззззз

[lucigoo]

Weekly Roundup: 15th April - 22nd April

Whoop, Sunday, tht means weekly roundup and recs (were going to pretend it is NOT Monday lol) So, I have writtn 13,184 words this week, and have uploaded 2 fics this week (technically it's three, but the Thorin Spring Forge fic is revelaed o the 25th) So, on to the recs: Not All That Glitters (Is Good For Your Health) - comatosecombat - The Hobbit (Bilbo/Thorin, post quest for Erebor)

Summary: In his attempt to distract Smaug from attacking Lake-town, Bilbo accidentally destroys the One Ring of Power, saves the day and brings peace on Middle-Earth.

When it comes to him and Thorin, that resolves absolutely nothing. An Unexpected Addition - karategal - The Hobbit (Bilbo/Thorin, this whole series is pure gold imo) Summary: All of the dwarves survive the Battle of the Five Armies, but Bilbo must return to the Shire to sort out his old life and make way for a new one in Erebor. Over one year later, Bilbo comes back to the Lonely Mountain with a recently orphaned Frodo. King Thorin isn't quite sure what to make of this new, tiny addition to his Company. far across the distance - LinguisticJubilee - The Hobbit - (Bilbo/Thorin, schmoopy Thorin has my whole heart)

Summary: Balin blinks, shifting backwards. “Laddie, it’s—it’s been a year. Bilbo has returned home, to the Shire.” He looks at Thorin, then says more gently, “I did not realize you counted the hobbit among your treasures.” i've loved you in a million different ways - dotty456 - Harry Potter (Sirius/Remus, James/Regulus, this is one of my fav Hogwarts-No voldy fics ever)

Summary: An everybody lives fanfic that follows the Marauders from before their first year to the end of Hogwarts - may include mentions of their children/marriages and future stuff because I can. Dumbledore is a douchebag, Voldemort doesn't exist and the Black cousins join together before the elder Blacks start burning that damn family tree. One Flash Of Light, But No Smoking Pistol - Ludo_ten - Harry Potter (Sirius/Remus, Zombie Au)

Summary: Nov 1981: Sirius wakes up hungover in a stranger's bed when an emergency radio broadcast warns of a viral outbreak and instructs everyone to stay inside.

Isolated and homeless, Sirius has no choice but to reconcile with his estranged brother. Their uneasy alliance plants the seeds for buried family secrets to surface. Together, they venture to Wales in search of the man he never told he loved before it's too late. What to do when one has died? Dig of course. - DBlack13 (Bilbo/Thorin, Afterlife fic, I repeate Afterlife fic (not that i have a fav trope or anything .....)

Summary: After death, Bilbo is bored. He misses his adventures, and although Yavanna’s Garden is everything a hobbit would wish for, Bilbo can’t help missing his friends in the Company, and above all, a certain blue-eyed leader… Hopefully theres at least one for you there.

Now, on to my fics <3 I'm real, I'm here. Open your eyes and see. (For @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt 249, Siirus/Remus)

Summary: Remus often dreams about Sirius and it makes him reluctant ot open his eye to the nothing he knows he will find when he does. But will he? Has he really lost everything? Thank you for giving me the stars (Sirius/Remus, an Animal Au based of this amazing art by @depsidase)

Summary: Remus and Teddy are outcasts, on the edge of Axolotl society, but Teddy makes a new friend and it looks like Remus may make a something more who is willing to show him the stars. Have a good week all <3

[sillygirl-sketches]

I immediately interested in the Hot Topic AU (?) Feel free to talk about it like a lot I will listen. I have a lot better things to do but i'd rather listen to this

AW YAY glad you’re interested!!

it’s 2005. michael is sitting on the couch watching reruns of “friends.” money is tight. working as a security guard has its perks (hey, after they got past trying to kill him, talking to the ghosts of the poor kiddos dad murdered & reconnecting with evan past the mortal plane isn’t too bad), but the economy is taking a downturn. it’s looking like he’ll need an extra job to pay the bills as he searches for william.

tired of “living in shadows,” michael misses interacting with people! but uh oh, yeah…almost forgot the issue here: he’s a purple corpse semi-preserved by remnant. ever the rebel, he remembers how he loved alternative fashion as a teenager and always pushed boundaries with what he could get away with wearing before dad would raise an eyebrow. he misses expressing himself, and despite his small wig collection (what, can’t an undead thirtysomething have some semblance of dignity?), he yearns to feel like himself again. agh, there’s no way he’d be able to get his old life back…

he pulled out his laptop (his prized possession: a clamshell iBook that he scrimped and saved for) and opened Yahoo, skimming through HotJobs for available job listings in retail. occasional rotting flesh was a liability in food services anyhow, so he’d have to survive the endless reruns of “since u been gone,” while restocking the uggs in aisle 4. ugh…

wait a minute. “hot topic” at the red cliffs mall? hmm… maybe that could work. he’d vaguely heard of the current emo wave. he’d watched all of invader zim when it first aired (even signed a petition to nickelodeon to not cancel the show), participated in a my chemical romance fangroup on facebook, and even though he’d been out of his element with the current alternative scene, perhaps he could re-enter society after all? when was the last time he gave someone a band recommendation? when was the last time he debated with a real live person on whether sex pistols or the clash were the superior punk group?

with a skeletal grin of excitement, michael hit “submit” on the application. obviously, he was loyal to his quest to untangle the mysteries of the fazbear franchise—but a bit of extra cash on the side couldn’t hurt, right?

[tyanis]

For those of you who have recently started playing Fallout 3 after watching the tv show and want to use Butch as a companion...

I know his signature weapon is his switchblade but his tagged skill is actually unnarmed. Not melee. Get that boy a deathclaw gauntlet. Or a powerfist. There's one called Fisto! that is really good.

And put him in power armor. Tesla or Hellfire if you can get it.

His other tagged skill is small guns. So, Butch is unique amongst companions in that his default pistol technically requires ammo for him to use it (he won't use the ammo and only actually needs one bullet in his inventory). You can easily manipulate him into using whatever gun you want by taking away all of his 10mm rounds... Provided you supply him with plenty of ammo for those guns. I used to give him the Blackhawk (complete Agatha's quest) and sometimes a sniper rifle. Completing The Pitt should get you access to an ammo press if you need rarer bullets.

His final tagged skill is Science.

This does nothing.

But you can headcanon that he's really good with computers or something.

Anyway, hope that helps!

[namig42]

It's been a hell of a month, but we finally have another chapter! Also, this chapter officially put me over the 100k word count, so that's a hell of a milestone, and we're nowhere near done yet! Anyways, please enjoy!

Just One Yesterday (Ch. 25)

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Read it on Ao3

Summary: This is a modern AU where Wyll is a police officer and Astarion is a sex worker. Despite a problematic start, the two manage to find a connection and have it build in time into something more while also dealing with their demons.

---

Wyll crouched down low as he examined the estate grounds. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears as he looked towards the gates and prayed that a single soul didn’t point him out to any of the guards. All the people gathered around outside the gates were wrapped in their own worlds, but it would only take one cursory glance from a nosey stranger for Wyll’s espionage mission to go up in flames.

Then there was the case of Cazador’s guests coming in from the front of the manor. There were many expensive cars lining the roundabout stone driveway, and a few of Cazador’s guests were making their way inside. It seemed that the party had only just begun within the hour. Wyll watched the wealthy, influential people of Baldur City from the shadows in silence, and hoped that they would all be too preoccupied with the festivities inside to bother looking anywhere else on the grounds. With a cautious step, Wyll began the next part of his mission.

His feet moved through the grass and thin layer of snow with a quiet shuffle. The quiet crunch of each step rang incredibly loud in Wyll’s mind, but thankfully, the raucous from the street and the string music coming from the manor would be much louder to anyone else.

Wyll crept behind the gardens and through the myriad of gravestones that littered the lawn of the Szarr estate. He nearly tripped and fell into the dirt over a stone plaque in the ground that was hidden by the snow. Thankfully though, he managed to catch himself before his face met the grass and quickly looked towards the gates. He was relieved to see that whether wealthy or average, party guest or casual viewer, everyone that was outside tonight was consumed in their own little world. Wyll sighed as he regained his footing and continued on in his stealthy crouch mode.

When he reached the stone wall of the manor, Wyll felt a small wave of relief wash over him. The cold stone against his hand felt comforting as he pressed himself against the side of the manor and obscured himself from view. Looking back towards the gates again, it was clear that no one seemed to notice a thing. Not a single set of eyes was focused on Wyll or anywhere near him. Instead, the merrymakers were all laughing with one another and singing festive songs in the street, completely oblivious to Wyll’s presence and his plight.

Wyll took a moment to let his nerves settle and steel himself before moving on to the next phase of his quest: he needed to investigate the inside of the manor and find his target. He wasn’t sure how ready he was to see the monster again, but he needed to find Cazador if he was to formulate any sort of plan. He had a pistol to shoot at a distance, but that didn’t mean much in a party full of people, and gods forbid Mizora managed to find her way here and spot him before anything could be done.

Then there was Astarion. Wyll had no clue where he was or if what state he was in. If he thought about it for too long, Wyll began to worry about the worst. He remembered Cazador threatening Astarion with a tomb or being restricted only to Cazador’s room. The more Wyll visualized Astarion in those dreadful places, sitting in silence with those tired, hollow eyes and waiting for Cazador to show him the slightest sign of mercy, the more it made him sick. He felt an awful wave of dread and anger wash over him, but then forced it away. Now was not the time for such despairing thoughts.

Now was the time for action.

Wyll gathered his courage and prepared himself for his first glimpse into the demon’s nest. The nearest window was only a few feet to his left. Wyll shuffled his way along the edge of the wall, disguising himself in the shadows, and peeked ever so slightly into the manor. Inside the first window was the entry hall. There were a slew of guests dressed in distinguished noble costumes standing around and socializing, sipping on champagne as they made conversation with one another. There were women in long, flowing, elegant dresses, and others with full skirts and small bustles. The men were dressed in fine tailored waistcoats and suits with a great deal of embroidery on their jackets. Servants in fairly lewd crimson clothing roamed about the guests with silver platters holding hors d'oeuvres and glasses of champagne. Their heads were kept low as they circled the guests, silently offering them their tasty treats before continuing on.

Wyll looked at the blood red corsets and the short beige skirts with black tights that the maids wore and thought it was a bold style choice for such a refined ball. The girls certainly stood out amongst the fine ladies of the city, and it seemed that Wyll wasn’t the only one to notice. Many of the men inside leered at the poor girls as they came around with their heads lowered and their mouths shut as they simply did their job.

Then a footman came into view, and Wyll saw the simple black and red jacket he wore. This particular fellow was stockier than Wyll, with long, blond hair that was brushed back from his face. The young man stood at attention near the front door, and Wyll began to wonder if there was a way to lure the footman outside and take his uniform. The idea was tempting and would make infiltrating the party much easier, but it was too much of a risk. Besides, the jacket would be much too big for Wyll and would look ridiculous, like a child wearing his father’s clothes. I’ll just have to find another way, Wyll thought to himself, the confidence in his veins not wavering an inch.

Wyll looked about the room for a minute before he realized that Cazador wasn’t here. Despite being the host of the party, he wasn’t around to greet his guests. It seemed that the monster of the house had better things to do.

Apparently though, the same couldn’t be said for Cazador’s hunters. Wyll did spot a familiar head of white hair and a soft smile in the crowd. It was Dalyria, and she seemed to be flirting with one of the guests. She was wrapped in crimson silk that draped off her shoulders elegantly, and the fabric that fell from her shoulder certainly wasn’t missed by the older man she was talking to. Perhaps hunting was off the table for tonight for the sake of serving a different clientele. Wyll wondered if all of Cazador’s hunters were forced into the same role tonight. Was Astarion too…?

Wyll shook off the thought and ducked back down under the window. He crept away from the gates and towards the back of the manor, carefully peeking into every window as he went. The first two tall windows were still attached to the ballroom, then the next five thin pointed ones were all lined in a hallway that was mostly vacant except for the servants nervously sprinting to and from one end to the other. They ran away from the entry hall with empty trays and carefully made their way back with full ones as quickly as they could.

Wyll was now reaching the last few windows lining this side of the manor. The last three windows before he would turn the corner were much wider and more ornate than any of the other ones he had peeked in so far, which made them stand out in comparison to the thinner openings of the hallway windows. Wyll peeked inside the room and saw a familiar sight that left him with chills.

It was the ballroom, the one where Mizora chided him like the dog he was in front of Cazador, and the last place that he saw Astarion with that look full of grief two months ago.

Inside the tall, spacious room, there was a group of people sitting in an intimate circle in the center of the dancefloor. As Wyll stood up slightly to get a better look, he paused at the sight of someone familiar.

Astarion. He was there. Right there, a mere ten paces away from where Wyll stood now. Wyll only saw his back, but he could recognize that silhouette and that silver hair anywhere, even if he was a bit more gaunt and his curls were a bit longer than the last time he saw him. Astarion stood behind a chair dressed in what looked to be a harem outfit made out of white silk that was somewhat similar to Dalyria’s, except hers seemed to provide more coverage of her torso. Astarion’s outfit left his entire back on display, presenting Cazador’s dreadful mark to all of his sinful guests. He stood still as a statue, almost as if he was a ghost haunting the guests, though knowing Astarion, if he truly was a ghost, he would surely be wreaking all sorts of havoc rather than simply standing there menacingly. That didn’t seem like the type of haunting for a man so theatrical and passionate about revenge.

Just in front of Astarion sat a familiar head of slicked back, raven black hair. Even without seeing his face, Wyll knew that was his target. That was Cazador. The bastard wouldn’t let Astarion out of sight, and so who else would Astarion be standing at attention behind on a night like this?

Cazador wasn’t the only recognizable person in the room though. There were a few other familiar faces as well. To Cazador’s right, Wyll saw the profile of a woman he had only ever really heard about and saw in pictures. Her pale, bald head made her instantly recognizable. Next to Cazador sat Zariel, Mizora’s own master. She was the one that sent Wyll on the hunt for people like Astarion three months ago and unknowingly led Wyll down this dark, dreadful path of his. Her sharp features and dark makeup reflected her cold mentality. Even the smile she wore while laughing with Cazador felt cruel and wicked.

Wyll recognized another face as well. Across from Cazador in the circle sat a man he had only ever seen once. It was the blond haired, blue eyed man that had tried to take advantage of Astarion one night back a few months ago. Wyll remembered the way the man had tried to trap Astarion on the street and how prideful and arrogant he had been. What was his name again… Sahed? Wyll tried to recall, remembering the way the foul name rang from Astarion’s mouth. Yes… Sahed was the bastard’s name. He sat now dressed in a fine black robe with golden ornaments in the shape of dragons and made conversation with the other members of their evil party, all while leering at Astarion.

The room held nine people in total. There were the six guests, Cazador, Astarion, and someone standing near the grand doorway to the right of the window. Wyll saw the thin man by the door and recognized the gaunt face almost instantly from his nightmares. That was the bastard that tortured him all those months ago, the man whose fingers still intruded on Wyll’s eye, even when he was hundreds of miles away from this dreadful place. Standing at attention by the partially open wooden doors was Godey, the kennelmaster.

Wyll froze for a moment at the sight of the monster that wreaked such terrible havoc on him and had to breathe. He ducked down below the window and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing through the terrible memories that tried to come back and invade his mind now. The glass, the lashes, the cuts, the stretching, those chilling boney fingers…

Calm down, Wyll tried to hush his rushing mind. With his head lowered nearly between his knees, Wyll took a slow breath in, then a breath out.

In… and out… In… and out…

Wyll would’ve told himself that the bastard couldn’t hurt him anymore, but that wasn’t the case tonight. Tonight, if he wasn’t careful, he could very easily be hurt by Godey again. And again. And again and again and again…

Wyll steeled his mind. There was no time to think about such dreadful things. He had found his target, now all he had to do was get inside the mansion and find a way to kill Cazador.

Despite his nerves and urgency, Wyll peeked inside once more just to get another look at Astarion. Despite everything, he was at least glad to see that Astarion wasn’t imprisoned somewhere. He almost couldn’t believe after all this time that Astarion was still here. After months of reminiscing about him, Astarion had almost become a figment of Wyll’s imagination, leaving Wyll to wonder if the man had ever even existed. During those cold nights back in that little servants quarters in Menzoberranzan, Wyll had imagined better days of reading stories and sharing in each other’s warmth with the man he cared for so deeply. It had felt too good to be true, that something so wonderful could never exist in this cruel world, but now, to be reminded that Astarion was here and real… It reignited that fire in Wyll to finish what he had started.

Wyll watched Astarion’s stillness for a moment, then saw it shift as Sahed smirked at him from across the circle and waved Astarion over. Wyll watched Astarion glance down towards Cazador and saw the monster offer a slight wave before Astarion stepped over towards the needy guest. He approached the tall, wicked man with a saunter, and Sahed gently took Astarion’s fair hand and led him onto his lap. He wrapped his claws around Astarion’s waist and pulled Astarion’s thin frame close, burying his strong face into Astarion’s pale chest. Wyll saw the slight smile on Astarion’s face and those hollow eyes, and thought how this scene was such a contrast to the interaction the two men had had on the street back in autumn. Astarion had been so much more fierce and defiant then, but now he only sat politely with that pretender’s smile as Sahed’s hands squeezed at his hips, gladly taking what he could while Cazador loomed and watched.

It was too much for him to stomach. With a heavy and fiery heart, Wyll tore his eyes away with a new vengeance against anyone who had ever touched Astarion like that and forced him to wear that false face. He crouched against the wall and pressed on towards the back of the manor, ready to find an entrance and infiltrate those crimson halls.

Around the corner, Wyll spotted a familiar cellar entrance, and just past it was an outdoor seating area decorated with burgundy drapery and candlelight. Thankfully, none of the guests were outside just yet. The party had only just begun, giving Wyll time to investigate the cellar doors. He recalled the night that he watched Godey take one of Astarion’s victims down inside the hatch and thought that it would be the most discreet entrance on such a lively night as tonight.

Wyll quietly shuffled his way over to the large hatch and saw that the doors were made of dark steel. The only things on the outside were the thick metal handles and a small keyhole that was almost imperceptible in the dark. Wyll grabbed the handles and gave a strong tug, but the door wouldn’t budge. He tried again and again, seeing if there was any give to the hatch, but the doors were immovable.

“Shit…” Wyll muttered under his breath as he released his grip. He wasn’t nearly strong enough to brute force the doors open, and he had no tools to even attempt cracking that miniscule lock.

What am I to do now? Wyll looked back towards the patio area, then down at his ramshackle appearance. Going inside with denim jeans and a threadbare jacket would immediately blow his cover. Even if Cazador or his hunters didn’t catch him, anyone would report such a suspicious person and have him captured immediately.

Wyll held his hand to his chin and pressed his back against the mansion walls once more. His mind rushed with options, thinking about the extravagant costumes that all the guests wore or the male servant uniforms. If he could find any outfit for himself, then it wouldn’t be hard to blend in among the crowd and reach his target. The only thing he couldn’t figure out was how to get a disguise. It’s not as if some drunken fool would simply stumble outside and pass out in the bushes with a costume that would be perfect for Wyll.

He just needed to find a way inside, but how?

Wyll glanced over back at the balcony and saw the sheer crimson drapery that hung along the white stone railings and hung from the pillars that lined the terrace. The material reminded him briefly of what the men back in Menzoberranzan wore during the illyitri, and suddenly an idea clicked. If he couldn’t infiltrate as a guest or a proper servant, then perhaps he could as one of Cazador’s hunters. After all, Dalyria wore an outfit made of nearly identical fabric. As long as Wyll kept his head low and didn’t draw any attention to himself, it shouldn’t be difficult to sneak around the manor until he found a more suitable outfit.

Wyll crouched low as he carefully made his way over to the terrace. He peeked through the small windows that lined the entryway of the patio area and spotted a servant standing at attention inside with her back straight and her head lowered. Quietly, Wyll grabbed the drapery off the nearest railing and began to pull it off. The first part thankfully came off softly and smoothly, but there were still two other spots that held the fabric in place. Wyll shuffled to the side while keeping his eyes on the terrace doors and the servant inside, then lifted the drapery off its hook on the second spot. No hitches so far, thank the gods. One last time, Wyll moved to the last spot and went to pull off the final piece of the fabric. He lifted it just as he did the other spots, but as he pulled, there was resistance.

Wyll tried to look at what the problem was, but it was incredibly dim outside. The only light came from the windows and the flickering candles that sat on the few tables outside. He could barely make out the loose bundle of thread that snagged onto the hook that held the fabric in place. He tried to lift the drape in different directions, but it seemed quite tangled. Wyll huffed in frustration, being careful not to tear at the fabric he needed, then suddenly heard a door click open. His eyes shot over to the terrace entrance as he heard voices coming closer.

“My, even in the frigid air, the Szarrs still make the outdoors hospitable,” a smooth, feminine voice hummed pleasantly.

“No one can deny that Cazador Szarr is a stickler for details,” said a theatrical man’s voice.

Wyll had pulled the drapery off with a quick rip at the sound of footsteps approaching on the marble floors of the terrace. He fell to the ground and quickly covered himself with the fabric he had just broken free, praying that no one would notice the missing decoration.

From under his cover on the freezing earth, Wyll managed to get a glimpse of the guests that toured the outdoors now. He watched as their shoes approached him slowly and lazily, the click of heels on the hard ground ringing loud in Wyll’s ears. The woman’s emerald green heels came closer and closer to where Wyll lay in the dirt, then thankfully passed just as slowly as they came. The man she was with didn’t seem to walk around as much, staying close to the entryway and only taking a few steps outwards.

After a minute that felt like ten with how fast Wyll’s heart raced, the man’s voice called, “honey, it’s dreadful out here. I need another drink if you want me to stay out in this weather.”

The woman huffed as she sharply turned towards the man that was presumably her husband. “Oskar, please, you should be able to appreciate a lovely view like this as an artist.”

“Yes, well, maybe if I could feel my hands or anything at all, you’d be right.” The artist countered.

“Fine,” the woman groaned as she stepped back towards the doors. Wyll caught a glimpse of a ginger woman taking her blond husband’s arm. “We’ll get you that drink, but you will come back out here once you're warm, alright? I want a painting of this lovely view to hang in the hall.”

“Yes dear…” The man said with a sigh as the servant girl opened the door for them. The couple went back into the warm halls, and the heavy door slowly closed shut behind them. Once the outdoors were quiet again, Wyll quickly got to his feet and shuffled back into the shadows, trying not to drag the fabric in the dirt and snow at his feet.

Once safely around the corner, Wyll set down his backpack and briskly began to undress. The moment he took off his jacket, the biting cold sent shivers up and down his arms. He tried to ignore the gooseflesh as he lifted his shirt over his head, then grabbed at the fabric he had just acquired. There was a great deal of fabric to work with, more than a few yards. Wyll would have to be intentional with how he wrapped it around himself in order to make it look presentable.

Firstly, he draped the sheer material over his left shoulder and let the ends of the fabric spill around his feet. Wyll quickly realized that he would have to wrap the material around his waist as well, and for that to work, his jeans needed to come off first. Bracing himself, Wyll unbuttoned his pants and awkwardly slid them past his shoes and off his legs. He nearly lost his balance getting the right leg past his sneaker and accidentally pressed his bare back against the cold wall of the manor. Wyll had to swallow the yelp that nearly left him as he felt what little heat he had be absorbed by the freezing stone. Wyll stood up as quickly as he could once he was done and stuffed his clothes into his backpack. While fighting the violent shivers of his body, Wyll wrapped the fabric around his waist once, twice, thrice, then secured it with a square knot. That small tear from the last phase of acquiring the fabric was thankfully tucked out of sight along with the knot that held his ensemble together.

Wyll had no mirror to see how the outfit looked, but hopefully he looked presentable. The silk hung around his torso in a sort of toga style and then was wrapped and hung around his waist. The long fabric was thankfully wide as well. When it was allowed to lay flat, it reached Wyll’s shins easily. 

Wyll looked down at his black sneakers and realized that those wouldn’t do at all with this outfit. He’d have to leave them in his bag as well, but he didn’t want to stand with his bare feet in the freezing cold. That was a recipe for what was already shaping up to be one hell of a disaster.

Wyll peeked around the corner of the manor and spotted the bushes nearby the terrace. That should make for a fine spot to hide his bag. After all, he absolutely couldn’t bring it inside without immediately giving away his intention. He’d have to come back for his pistol when he found a suitable opening. The dagger though… Wyll thought as he reached into his bag and pulled out the ceremonial blade. It was small with a heavily detailed sheath. It wasn’t very large and could be discrete. Despite his better judgement, Wyll tucked the dagger into his waistband and adjusted the silk around it to keep it hidden from sight. Hopefully it would be enough. Just in case, Wyll thought to himself as he felt the dagger press awkwardly into his hip.

It was now time to move. This meager outfit was the best that Wyll could do. Without jewelry or proper shoes, Wyll may quickly be discovered and caught, but if he was careful, he could maybe reach his target. Just as long as he did what he came here to do, then the rest wouldn’t matter.

Wyll quickly moved towards the shrubs and begrudgingly removed his shoes and socks, stuffing them in his backpack and zipping it up before stashing it in the bushes. Once his bag was hidden amongst the dense leaves, Wyll quickly stepped up the marble steps and braced himself. He saw the back of the servant girl’s head and knew that getting past her would be the first obstacle that could easily ruin everything tonight.