#so i begrudgingly reloaded

[danvssomethingorother]

Reload should have combined the Kenji and Rio social links. I genuinely would love to know how that would have ended if his childhood friend who is in love with his dumb ass found out he was trying to fuck his teacher.

It would make Rio’s pretty boring social link more interesting since it’s never brought up once in the female main character route that Kenji likes older women.

[zae-heeyyy]

Evanesce

Summary: You try to runway. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 3,673 Tags: angst, smut, mid-low honor Arthur, handjob, unprotected p in v, oral, breeding kink, tb? Don’t know her. Warnings: 18+ MDNI, toxic relationship

An: I feel like I ran a never ending marathon with this one. Drafted it a month ago, but I never really vibed with it. Challenged myself to just get it done and make sure I was proud of it. Once again, I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone. Shout out to @googoolies for the note idea! As always, I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Tagging @hihomeghere because you asked ❤️

Evanesce: to dissipate like vapor

Worn floorboards of Shady Bell wailed under Arthur’s weight as songbirds began their morning melodies. The gunslinger scoped the eerily empty, quiet camp for traces of you, but all he found was a folded letter on his pillow.

Echoes of your last conversation flashed in his mind as he tramped across the narrow room to retrieve the note. Two nights ago, The Old Guard overlooked their kingdom from the second-floor balcony as they discussed their plans to wage war against Angelo Bronte. Bile stung the back of your throat as two-thirds of the trio outruled the other. Hosea’s final words to Dutch and Arthur, “You’ll damn us all,” filled you with dread and the overwhelming feeling of impending doom.

Arthur avoided your shadowed eyes as he reloaded his weapons and ignored your outcry against Dutch’s plan. Your desperation had turned swiftly to indignation, and an argument commenced, your voices clashing like swords. You begged him not to go, pleading with the enforcer to listen to reason for once, to listen to you. But he pushed back with the shield of obstinance he had long forged for survival. 

“I don’t take orders from you, woman, and keep your goddamn voice down.”

Thousands of tiny needles pricked at the backs of your eyes at the harsh directive, but you held firm. 

“Arthur, if you go I’ll–” 

“Don’t,” he warned dismissively, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and ambling to the door. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye as he twisted the knob. Your last words fell on ears deafened from years of gunfire. 

“If you leave, I won’t be here when you come back.”

Two days later, Arthur masked his guilt with anger as he skimmed over the last piece of you left in the room. Four words in the polite loops of your handwriting taunted him: Saint Denis. Train. Running. 

After a quick check of the cinch, he found himself begrudgingly engulfed in the city of smog and greed he’d come to hate so much. Riding through the maze of cobblestone, brick, and vermin was like laying under a guillotine, staring up at the blade and waiting for it to drop. Law on every corner, people jammed together, and now, Bronte’s men out for revenge–none of it felt right. 

Taking in a breath that didn’t reach deep enough, he started his search for you in this hornets’ nest of a city. Most of the hotels and saloons served him with nothing but a heavy dose of adrenaline and dead ends. As he approached Doyle’s Tavern, his last stop, he dug his nails into his trembling palm, savoring the sting of apathy that came with the pain.

Arthur made a beeline to Gabe Doyle, reciting his rehearsed description of you. A woman standing beside him, whose garments had seen cleaner days, tapped him on the shoulder. The outlaw didn’t even look at her, didn’t give her time to speak before he rejected her with razor-edge disdain. When Arthur finished, Gabe only shrugged his shoulders, but the woman, still standing close by, let out a derisive giggle.

“He won’t be of no help, mista’. Coulda’ told ya’ for free, but it’ll cost ya’ now.”

Ire made his ears ring, drowning out all the other sounds in the slum’s saloon. He drummed his fingers hard on the worn wooden bar, the taste of pride sour on his tongue. 

“How much?” 

Cleavage spilled over her top as she leaned towards him and twiddled brazenly with the collar of his shirt. 

“Well, for clients that play nice, seven dollars, but for you, rotten dirty bastard––times it by ten.” 

A minute later, he exited Doyle’s Tavern not a cent lighter, heavy with an indefinite ban, but finally, a real lead on you. Four new mocking words overshadowed ones from the letter: Whore house; Courtenay Street. 

A brothel—a goddamn brothel. 

Instinct lured him to the debauched inn, and your name frothed from his muzzle in more of a growl than speech. Like a rabid dog, he snapped and barked orders at the women unlucky enough to be trapped with the beast on the arena floor.

They tried futilely to stop his march down the hall, tried to keep him from getting to you, but the chaos drew you into the colosseum and into the lion’s direct line of sight. You yanked the man-turned-animal by the sleeve and sealed yourselves away before he could do any more damage. 

More tame now, sea storm orbs surveyed you in a quick but covert once over, then he spun on his heel, searching for anything else to focus on.

“Christ, been looking for you all day, woman,” he bit out through clenched teeth. 

The lone wolf prowled the new territory for a threat but was only met with a vacant cave and the empty feeling of shame. Deflecting, he found your luggage, lifting the bags with the practiced ease of carrying buckets of water to and fro. His biceps flexed with the weight of your whole life in one bag, but he nodded at you, matter of fact. 

“C’mon. M’taking you home.”

Home. You could’ve laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. None of these places had ever been home.

“I ain’t going nowhere with you,” you fired back, grabbing for the suitcase in his hand. A brief game of tug-of-war ensued, your grip relentless, Arthur’s unwavering, until he finally let you pull one of the bags free. He dropped the other and exhaled with the sharpness of a saber but stayed silent at the conclusion of your weaponless duel. He’d fallen in love with that gnawing defiance, but now it was tearing him to pieces, bit by bit until it exposed the marrow of pure anger.

“Runnin’ off is one thing.” His nostrils flared, and the timbre of his voice deepened as he carried on, “But running off t’here–– selling yourself?” He shook his head and blew air through his teeth, “Yer crazier than I thought.”

You whirled away from him, swatting your hand like he was as insignificant as a fly.

“And you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. Ain’t selling myself, you damn fool! And I’ll do whatever the hell I please. Right now, I want to get far away from this shit city and you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, dragging out the words. “I know you just as well as you think you know me. If you wanted away–really wanted away–you wouldn’t’ve left this pretty little letter, and sure as hell wouldn’t’ve told me where to find ya’.” He retrieved the letter from his satchel, held it up just long enough for you to see, and crushed it in his fist before discarding it on the floor.

“That’s what I think of your pretty little letter.” 

You had started a slow involuntary backtrack during his monologue, the flight response pushing back against the fight. He followed, sandwiching you between himself and the door.

“Screw you.” Scorn was hot on your breath.   

Just as you thought to turn the knob, to free yourself from the prison of flesh and wood, the iron teeth of a bear trap, his fingers, clamped around your wrist, bringing your hand to eye level. 

“And you still got something of mine.”

Both pairs of eyes landed on a small round sparkling opal set in a gold band on your left ring finger.

You’d never forget finding it on your pillow along with a letter from Arthur that just said, “One day…”

He had made promises he didn’t keep. First, you just had to wait for the Ferry Job. Next, you needed to survive Colter. Then you had to get far away from the Pinkertons, and most recently, all you needed to do was help case the Lemoyne National Bank. One last job, he’d told you. It was the same thing he said before leaving for that boat in Blackwater.

Contempt flowed through your veins as you tried to wrench free. God, you hated him right now, but you hated yourself more for letting him fool you.

“Let go.” You hissed, seething. 

Your hand throbbed as he gave your wrist another squeeze.

“You first.” Then he nodded towards the stone on your finger. “My ring,” he demanded.

Your knuckles collided with the wood of the door with a hard knock as you freed your hand. You flattened your palm against the wood behind your back, guarding the ring from the career thief’s piercing gaze.

“No,” you shot back, sinking into yourself. “It’s mine.” 

Your finger throbbed around the ring you’d seldom taken off. It had become part of you, melded to your skin like a vine coiled around a tree in a beautiful and deadly embrace. 

“Yours?” he huffed incredulously, shaking his head, trying to form your words into something he could understand. For a short beat, the heavy huff and puff of his breath was the only thing you could register. 

You had mined forever to find something other than cold coals of anger within him. You thought you’d found it—thought you’d finally struck gold when he confessed his feelings for you somewhere out west all that time ago. Now, you were left wondering if it was only fool’s gold you had stumbled upon. The cowardly knight was far too proud and far too afraid of getting stabbed to lay down his armor. But you were having a silent conversation with those sad eyes, reading words he’d never speak or ask aloud. What does that make me, then? 

“Yours.” He answered his inner thoughts without hesitation.

Mine. You thought back but only stared at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of cracking under his scrutiny. 

“Yours.” He repeated assuredly, final. 

It was your turn to shake your head now; you could hear his vocal cords vibrating, generating sounds you were supposed to understand, but he may as well have been speaking another language because what the hell did he know about being anybody else’s? You repeated your thoughts bluntly.

For a moment, he looked stunned, but then his hand shot out, cupping your jaw and tilting your face toward his. He was so close, you could smell him now. The scents of liquor on his breath and leather in his hat permeated your whole being.

“You don’t think–” His voice was low and trembling with fury. “I been yours since the goddamn day I laid eyes on you, and you know it.”

Fight, flight, freeze, and now fawn all warred for dominance. Twin mirrors of blue cosmos peered into your soul, but you didn’t look back, knowing that black holes of destruction ruled in the center and could swallow you in the blink of an eye.

“You have to go, Arthur.”

You tried to reach for the knob again, but Arthur imposed on you further, his chest brushing against yours. 

“No,” he said. “I ain’t going nowhere without you, and you ain’t going nowhere without me. M’done talking about it.”

It’s like he couldn’t listen, couldn’t hear you, couldn’t respect what you wanted. He only ever responded to shouting and violence. So you dipped down to his level, anything to get him to understand. Your open hand pushed full force against his chest, knocking the wind from him and making him stumble backward.

“You don’t own me, Arthur Morgan!”  

But the shouting was no use. He closed in on you again, and you reached out, clenching your fists in his shirt to stop his advance. If he noticed, he didn’t let on, talking with a tight jaw.

“No, dammit, cause you own me.” 

You balled your fists around cotton fabric and pulled him down into you, inhaling like you were bracing for the worst. This game, Predator and Prey, had become second nature to you. You would always be his fawn, thrashing and wailing, yet never escaping the salivating jaws of the coyote. And it always ended the same: a clash of heavy breathing and snarls before you surrendered.

Tobacco and whiskey never tasted so good, and they were just as addictive as him. Your teeth clashed together, and his left hand fell to your hip while his right twisted the lock on the knob. 

He was never gentle, but now, he was almost crazed. Rough hands that were trembling only an hour ago were all over you, gripping your jaw, sliding under your blouse, pushing and pulling you to his whim.

“Falling in love with you was the dumbest thing I ever did,” you confessed as he removed his hat and set it aside; he had better access to you without it. Heat surged through you as his hands bit into your hips, pinning you in place against the locked door. 

You mumble under your breath, “Bastard.”  

So far, he was ignoring your attempts to rouse him; you were his pretty little doe, caught in his chops, and a few barbs wouldn’t keep him from utterly devouring you. Dipping his head into your neck, he fixated on that pulsing artery, taking no time to roll the flesh between his teeth.

“Goddamn asshole,” you huffed but cradled his head as he claimed you.

He brushed over the ruptured blood vessels with his knuckles, and the bastard was smiling, eyes glazed over with lust and self-indulgence. Electricity sparked down your legs as he looped his fingers in the waistband of your skirt. 

You swore to yourself two nights ago that it was all over, that you wouldn’t let him slither back, yet here you were, Eve, being tempted by the serpent. Teeth sank into the forbidden fruit with the lift of your hips off the door, giving him permission to snatch both your skirt and bloomers down in a swift pull. Arthur didn’t need much persuasion to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil; a man like him could have never lived for eternity in The Garden of Eden. 

The pair of you wore pride like heraldry, but neither of you was as honorable as you’d led the other to believe. You, provoking him with the threat of leaving, knowing you’d let this happen as you always did, and him never changing and never stopping the cycle of broken promises. 

Your scent was intoxicating, but he held off from relishing it, studying your face like he’d done many times before. Something was different this time, though. Only for a heartbeat, you saw something in his eye, a minuscule hint of vulnerability. You blinked, and it was gone like it was never there, replaced by an unabashed smirk. You kept the insults flying. 

“Jerk.”

Hearing the laugh rumble in his chest made your skin prick up the same way it did when a thunderstorm was brewing on the horizon. The cowboy braced his hands against your thighs and peeked up at you, his lips still curved in the corners.

He lifted his eyebrow in question, “You done?”

“Shut up,” you responded, tangling your fingers in his hair and guiding him, not so gracefully, to the heat between your legs. 

Obeying, he flicked his tongue out to lap at you, drawing you closer in a hug, his palms resting on the curve of your ass cheeks. Steadying yourself against the door, you tugged on his hair like reins, but fuck, you didn’t want him to stop. You grunted and cursed under your breath as that gluttonous, greedy grifter feasted on you. 

Blasphemous sounds rose up from your chest as you rocked your hips feverishly with every swipe of his warm wet tongue against your clit. Every tug of his locs and bump of your mound into his nose sent blood pulsing full speed to the bulge in his pants. He knew you were dancing dangerously close to the cliff’s overhang by the way you were keeping him in place, right where you wanted him. But the brute stopped and locked eyes with you, lips curved downward. That slight glimpse of vulnerability you thought you’d seen earlier was now on full display.

“Say you won’t go,” he choked out. 

Down on his knees, looking up at you with genuine sincerity was the closest he’d ever get to prayer or penance. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat but didn’t answer him.

Instead, you ushered him back to his feet and crashed your lips into his again, tangling your tongue with his.

In a swift motion, you popped his suspenders loose while you walked him backward. The backs of his knees hit the bed, and he shimmied off his multiple layers just as quick as you unfastened the buttons on your blouse. You stood before him, a goddess, determining his eternal fate. And he waited, fixated on you, languidly stroking his engorged cock while you decided.

You replaced his fisted grip with yours, bending to meet his eye. The almost frown on his face made you wonder what he was seeing staring back at him. You imagined your pupils blown out, your lips swollen, and your hair disheveled. Arthur was the only man in the world who could turn you into a vixen. 

“You’re a fool, Arthur Morgan.” Your noses were almost touching as you tightened your grip and stroked him painfully slowly. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded, his face downright solemn. 

“Mhm,” you went on, rubbing circles atop his hot, leaking pink tip. Your pace quickened as your cheek grazed his. A shiver ran through him as the vibrations of your voice tickled his ear.

“No good, thieving, murderous bastard.” 

“I know.” He drew out, tightly clutching the sheets. With a firm nudge, you urged him onto his back. 

“You don’t deserve me. Never did,” you continued. His hips jutted in time with your wrist, his climax sitting low in his balls.  

“I–dammit–I–kn–know.”

The muscles of his stomach constricted as he fought for breath, damn near suffocating under your touch. 

“I’ll change.” He gasped, eyes closed, and brow furrowed. “I’ll change. But–ahh–I ain’t ever gonna be good enough for you, woman–nghh–no matter how much changin’ I do.”

Air finally flowed back through with the halt of your pumping. The mattress sunk with your added weight as you slung your legs on either side of him. Neither party stalled. You gave him a quick nod before he could even ask, and he sank his length into your warm, wet pussy. There were no hushing kisses, no waiting for you to adjust, no cajoling, just the smacking of skin and the aroma of sex in the room as he molded you to his girth. Bashfulness had never even crossed your mind. You rode him tirelessly, whimpering, gasping, and filling the air with his name. 

The roles reversed; you were the animal now, a lioness pursuing a buck. Chasing the high, you galloped hard and fast and grinding your hips against his to relieve the throbbing ache in your clit. You massaged the sensitive nub between your thighs, indulging in the pleasure you were giving yourself and receiving from him. The tip of his cock bumped that sweet spot inside of you, the one that made you tense and cry out over and over again. 

You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to know what he was doing to you or how he was making you feel–how he always made you feel when he was burrowed deep inside of you. You couldn’t hide from him, though. He knew you–knew the faces and sounds you made, knew the way you tightened around him, knew how you stiffened, knew how your breathing shallowed when you were on the edge. He knew the control he’d have over you forever.

“You ain’t going nowhere.” He grunted as he pounded up into you, the knot in his stomach tightening with his own upcoming release. 

“Fucker,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, and you love it.” 

You couldn’t deny it.

He took your hand in his and felt for the ring on your finger, stroking it, all while keeping eye contact and hammering relentlessly into your velvety walls. Four more thrusts and your eyes rolled back as the lightbulb of tension burst.

“That’s right, let it go, there it is.” Muttering, his upward ruts got sloppier as you rode out your body-spasming orgasm. Then he started babbling, lost in your sweet heat,

“Shit, I’m–bout t–m’close.”

The cowboy tried to lift you up, tried not to spill inside of you, but you buried your head in the crook of his neck and lowered yourself back down, taking him balls deep.

“Goddamnit,” he growled, hugging you to his chest, “the hell you doing, t’me, woman?” He panted and stared up at the ceiling like a man condemned. 

“Ain’t going nowhere,” you echoed breathlessly, still bouncing, before adding, “Yours.” 

In a few more strokes, he filled you up, grunting through his teeth and cursing up a storm that’d make even the most seasoned sailors look on timidly.

Outside noises of the establishment and the streets of Saint Denis droned back in as both of you came back to your senses. An ocean of things was left unsaid as you redressed and let Arthur lead you out of the room and to a proper hotel for the night. The next morning, you took Arthur up on his offer to get away for a few days. As the train you had boarded for your trip chugged on, something in the distance piqued your interest, a small homestead. You could vaguely make out a woman sitting on the porch and a man, presumably her husband, tending to a horse nearby. Of course, you didn’t know their life or their struggles, but if you could write your own happily ever after, it would be that. Arthur nudged you with his elbow, interrupting your daydream.  

“M’sorry...about everything,” he said, low, barely audible. The perpetual ache in your chest had almost gone numb after so long. Almost. 

“I know.” You replied and turned back to the window. The house was out of sight now, and you had a feeling your fairy tale ending had vanished with it.

[th3-c0rps3-r0gu3]

Snow White.

Pairing: Natasha X winter powered fem reader (eventually)

Warnings: mentions of abuse and divorce, angst, Natasha being mean (she fixes it don't worry)

A/n: y/n is albino in this please don't come at me. Also felt like writing some small hurt to comfort so here lol. Also this was written all in one go at some point during midnight so don't judge me.

When y/n joined the Avengers Natasha hated her. She hated her silvery white hair, red eyes and ghostly skin. In Natasha's opinion the woman needed to gain some colour. And yes Natasha wasn't much better at least she wasn't basically a ghost!

It wasn't just that either. Her whole personality annoyed Natasha. She was too friendly, trusting, kind and definitely way too much of a sweetheart for her own good. Natasha thought that if y/n had to even think about causing another harm she would combust into tears! This was obviously not a good career choice on her part.

But nevertheless Natasha had to put up, mind you begrudgingly, with y/n and her overly kind personality.

When y/n joined the Avengers she was nervous. One because of how she looked, being mocked all her life for it hadn't helped her self esteem, combined with the fact her favourite of the group despised her.

Y/n had always liked Natasha but when the red headed Russian first saw y/n she had sneered, leaving a bruise on y/n's heart. Natasha had been y/n's favourite of the Avengers ever since she first saw her.

It had been in the bustling streets of New York when Natasha had been swarmed around by paparazzi, at that time y/n had no interest in the Avengers, when y/n saw Natasha. Immediately swept off her feet by the confidence Natasha carried as she manoeuvred around the cameras and ignoring the sensitive questions they had y/n knew from that moment she liked Natasha.

But now whenever y/n would enter a room with Natasha the assassin would scowl or make snide comments about her pale appearance. And Tony deeming her snow white didn't help. And unfortunately the nickname had stuck.

"y/n how come you've never just dyed your hair or something, I mean at least try and fit in."

Natasha scowled as she passed the albino woman as she played cards with Wanda who shit Natasha a disapproving look that she missed completely. What Natasha didn't miss was the way y/n flinched and looked down at her hand of cards. Natasha frowned but shrugged off the slight feeling of guilt.

"I did try... It doesn't work.. my powers effect my appearance making dyes and any form of hair colouring fade almost immediately.."

Y/n tries to explain simply with her typically soft voice. Natasha ignored the slight sadness that she heard in the ever so gentle tone y/n always used. Instead the red head rolled her eyes.

"then wear a wig"

Nat snapped walking out. Forcing herself not to look back as she felt a sting in her heart. Why was this happening. She never felt guilty before about this.

After that Natasha grew frustrated. Every time she threw a mean or mocking comment y/n's way and she saw how y/n would wince or look down she felt guilty. She didn't even need to see it anymore. Just knowing that was y/n's reaction made Natasha's heart flinch too. So instead of doing the logical thing the Russian instead got nastier and simply insulted snow white even further.

"look here's snow white!"

Exclaimed Tony as y/n entered the room. Y/n simply shook her head and smiled, now used to the nickname. Natasha tried to shake the small flip her heart did when she saw that smile. First feeling guilty about the insults and now whenever Nat saw y/n her chest did acrobatics? She needed to see a doctor.

From where y/n sat with her book she could see Natasha reloading her guns. Y/n had known and accepted her crush on the Russian assassin a while ago. Though she knew not to approach Natasha about it. She had realised that she had taken a liking to Natasha when she walked into the kitchen to find Natasha leaning against the counter in her pajamas. Her heart had fluttered and for the first time ever her face donned a bright red colour. Though thankfully y/n had slipped away before Natasha noticed her.

But for now y/n could accept admiring Natasha from afar and simply hoping she either found another or her feelings faded, for y/n knew that her feelings would never be reciprocated. So as Natasha reloaded her guns and y/n read her book the two sat in silence together for the first time in their lives.

Natasha could see y/n reading in the corner of her eye. At first she had intended to send an insult to the winter woman's way but after she had glanced over and seen how peaceful and relaxed y/n looked she couldn't bring herself to say a harmful word to her. Natasha couldn't ignore the way her heartbeat sped up whenever y/n entered a room or smiled or even just existed.

Natasha had gone to Bruce about the situation and the only answer he had come up with was that Natasha was in love. But how could she be? She despised y/n. Her kind, loyal, sweet personality had initially irritated Natasha but now she found it endearing. And Nat couldn't figure out why. She couldn't figure out why whenever she saw even just a glimpse of silvery white hair her insides did a summersault and her heart rate increased to the point she thought she might die. So the only conclusion Natasha could hope for was that if she was cruel enough these unwanted feelings for y/n would go.

It had been two weeks since Natasha had realised she had feelings for y/n. And in that time the assassin bullied the albino woman to the brink of tears, ignoring how much her heart screamed at her to stop and to say sorry.

For the last two weeks Natasha's insults and jabs had grown progressively worse and y/n couldn't figure out why. What had she done? It stung a lot hearing every nasty word leave Natasha's mouth. It got to the point where y/n would end up leaving a few moments after Natasha entered to avoid crying in front of the other Avengers.

"y'know y/n your way too sensitive. Perhaps all that snow got in your head and ruined any sense of rationality."

Natasha scowled entering the training room where y/n was being helped by Wanda with her powers. Snow layered over the floor. Natasha ignored the hurt she felt in her chest when y/n looked down and clasped her hands together.

"there's no snow in my head Natasha please your words hurt.."

Y/n spoke quietly looking up at Natasha's face and meeting her eyes. Natasha ignored the shame she felt as she saw tears glistening in y/n's eyes.

"yeah well suck it up. Most of us have had much harder lives that have to put up with a few comments."

The assassin snapped staring y/n down in the eyes, crossing her arms as she did so. That's when she noticed something appear in y/n, her body stiffness and she showed... Anger? No way y/n never list her temper.

"I have too! You have no idea what I've had to put up with!"

Y/n said a bit louder than normal. Natasha was tempted to stop. Actually Natashas was tempted to simply apologise for over and walk over and embrace the albino woman but she held back, she was meant to hate y/n.

"oh yeah? Like what?"

Natasha provoked. She didn't miss the anger this time. Wanda at this point had gone and grabbed the others as she had sensed a fight coming. So with an audience y/n was about to put on a show.

"oh I don't know perhaps having your parents divorce because of how you look! Having your father claim your mother cheated! Being blamed for the divorce that ensues after your birth! Being brutally abused by your father physically, mentally and emotionally! Being outcasted and called a freak for your looks and powers!"

Y/n yelled. Snow and ice swirling around the room as the calmest and sweetest avenger got angry and lost her temper. But Natasha ignited the snow, she ignored the shocked faces of her friends in the background. All Natasha could focus on was how bad she felt about what she had been doing. Y/n had endured so much suffering from what many now consider a gift. And her comments probably only made the situation worse. Natasha was about to walk over and apologise but y/n stopped the snow storm and then pushed past Natasha to get away, tears frozen in her face.

Natasha spent about half an hour searching for y/n. She found her in the gardens. Snow covering every surface. It looked like a winter wonderland. And in the middle of the rose gardens where all the white and red roses grew sat y/n. Silvery white hair down around her ghostly pale shoulders. Red eyes slightly puffy with frozen tears running down her face. And while the situation was fire Natasha couldn't help but think that y/n looked like a goddess in that moment.

"if you've come to mock me more then please leave."

Y/n spoke up softly not looking up as she opened her palm and let snow fall over it, looking like a miniature snowfall. Natasha softened and walked over, sitting down next to y/n, who closed her palm and stopped the snow.

"I'm here to say sorry."

Natasha said quietly, taking y/n's closed fist into her own cold hands. Y/n looked up slightly shocked. But all Natasha could think of how beautiful the white woman was. A true winter goddess.

"wha-"

Y/n started only to get cut off when Natasha kissed her. Natasha hadn't been able to help herself. Y/n looked so pretty and Nat felt if she kept denying her feelings she might explode. So while y/n was distracted she kissed her. Sudden worry and fear filled Natasha though as she realised that y/n may not like her back. That was until y/n kissed Natasha back.

While admittedly y/n had been shocked when Natasha kissed her she also felt extremely happy and her heart picked up in pace. And sensing Natasha's then fear she kissed her back.

The two broke apart and Natasha looked at y/n simply admiring the woman she felt she couldn't admire before. Tucking a stray white lock from her face. Y/n smiled and leaned against Natasha's shoulder holding out her palm again and letting the snow fall commence once more.

After this the comments and jabs continued. Only now they ended in a compliment and a kiss between the two.

Natasha hated the new Avenger and never even considered the thought of liking her, and the new Avenger liked Natasha but never even thought that she would even like her back, but in the end both women loved each other and that's all that mattered to them.

[hmm-thats-a-wonderful-idea]

I don't know if this is how to submit something. But I just got a wonderful idea of my own. A common idea is that there are 10 save files. 9 is the PLAYER'S, 8 is Flowey's, and 1-6 are the other humans, and 0 is Chara's which Frisk then also uses. That leaves Save 7, it is assumed due to its mimicry to be Lemon Bread, a notably determined monster, who also (barring a clearly unintended exploit with high crit damage weapons) cannot take damage.

This could be a Dead End or a Wonderful Idea

Id call the Dead End "Sour Solitude" and the Wonderful Idea "Sweet Silence"

Onto the Idea. Flowey knows about the amalgamates, Alphys was probably guilted by her creation to inform him of the others, in what way, it doesn't matter. While skulking around the lab, Flowey decides to save, figuring "This is somewhere new, better be safe." And lo and behold something mimicking the save point. After a few missteps and reloads, that Lemon Bread surely notices, it begrudgingly agrees to aid Flowey with his plan to gain a more lofty control of the timeline, before Flowey's time. Knowing that he has an ally, Flowey gives up just long enough for Lemon Bread to control the timeline. Lemon Bread can then decide to preemptively end Alphys's flower experiments with some magical persuasion if need be. Or if Lemon Bread actually cares to help, Both end up a few souls richer basking on the surface, in the glow of a wrecked city. In fact, during either path, perhaps with a human Soul, Lemon Bread even gains enough physicality to revert some aspects of their individuals back, if they even want that anymore.

I would draw this but I am so tired rn.

Hmm..

What you have is a WONDERFUL IDEA!

Wonderful Idea #17: Sweet Silence

Dead End #2: Sour Solitude

[bioshook-wynand]

Since my friend and I are playing Bioshock 1, i wanted to share some of the things that have happened so far:

- We sat and watched the plane fully sink

- "OUGH?!" < her reaction to the giant Ryan statue

- Right off the bat she didn't trust Atlas and said his wife and child aren't real

- Every security bot is named Jeff

- The wrench is also Jeff(rey Bezos)

- We spent 30 minutes trying to get to Steinman because I forgot I has to throw the bombs at the debris blocking the entrance

- We went through 4 nitro splicers before I realized something wasn't right. I do this everytime. I literally replayed Bioshock like 2 weeks ago and forgot how to do that

- I've died more times in this playthrough than I ever have in Bioshock 1

- Keeps asking me if Atlas is evil, I keep telling her no and that he's my babygirl

- I've been spoon feeding her Atlas propaganda so hopefully she'll trust him by the end

- LOVES the little sisters, terrified of big daddys. She screamed the first time we had to fight one

- I tried to get the first bouncer stuck behind the register in the Medical Bay, but absolutely shredded him before I could

- The women were too stunned to speak

- We sat under the floor of the McCracken Crab trying to kill a Rosie. I died.

- I also hid under the floor of the Fisheries and smacked Splicers that walked overhead

- I got killed by a (different) Rosie like 5 times before I finally killed her

- Also ran from the third Rosie repeatedly before I finally killed him

- She chose target dummy for our first real plasmid

- I've only ever used it when losing control of the plasmids. So I've only used it once-

- Me: God I hate Andrew Ryan

Her: Bash his brains in

Me: *Hephaestus flashbacks* Oh I'm gonna

- Spider splicer: *angry screeching*

Me: New wife for you

Her: Great, thanks

- Hates it everytime I say "Snappies"

- I spent way too long looking for the final spider splicer before realizing I could take a picture of a dead one

- She did trust Peach Wilkins though (Somehow??)

- "I've got a really bad feeling about this" intensifies

- Yelled "THIS IS YOUR MAN⁉️" When Atlas walked out and almost missed Ryan's speech and the splicers bc of it

- Predicted the sub would blow up, but was shocked when it actually did

- I think she begrudgingly trusts Atlas now, his acting is peak

- I also went on a 2 minute rant about him and she made fun or me the entire time

- *finds a crawlspace full of Atlas posters*

Me: Oh my god, this is where I live!!

Her: NO

Me: With my Atlas posters and my.. Pistol bullets??

Her: N O !!

- #1 Langford stan (she's in love with her)

- Got jumpscared by the Houdini splicer that appears behind you (We both screamed)

- I was laughing bc his shadow was looming over us, then slowly turned around and we had a staring contest before I finally shot him in the face

- I've literally never seen him just sit there before?? He always disappeared as soon as I turned around. Wild

- She compared Langford writing the code on the window to 11307 from Danganronpa (iykyk)

- Cue disappointed sighing (Not really, I laughed really hard)

- This entire playthrough has just been me aggressively hitting on Atlas and her reevaluating our friendship

- Not even the posters are safe

- "Who is Atlas?"

Me: My husband

Her: UGH

- Saying "This is for me!!" every time I see an Atlas poster

- She is genuinely considering killing me

- Made me harvest a little sister to see what would happen 😔 We reloaded tho it's okay

- I've found so many secrets in this playthrough, including a vent that goes to a meat locker in the Farmers Market

- It felt like I was getting chased by everyone in Rapture while trying to make the Lazarus Vector

- I also (somehow) shot the big daddy in Langford's office while fighting splicers

- That was terrifying

- *Enters Fort Frolic* Me: It's about to get real silly

- I've been hyping up Cohen this entire time because I knew she would like him

- Unfortunately, she does

- She gagged at the "expectant mama" line

- Got jumpscared AGAIN by the splicer in the basement of Sinclair Spirits

- "SINCLAIR WHAT THE FUCK"

- I can never find the record store when I play Bioshock, this time was no different

- I gave up and went after Hector instead

- When we met Silas Cobb she yelled "KITTENS??"

- She agrees Silas is a discord mod

- We spent like 2 minutes straight trying to catch Hector and Silas

- I also got jumped by a bunch of splicers every time I tried to kill a bouncer

- She lost it at Cohen walking down the stairs

- "HIS GAY ASS WALK"

- I smacked Cohen after his speech and immediately ran

That's all so far, but we'll hopefully play some more this week!

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

Let the Boy Be Merry

Prompt Day 5: Grinch vs. Holiday Cheer | Word Count: 3333 | Rating: M | CW: Language, Brief Talk of Kids (They Didn't Have) | Tags: Future Fic, Long-Term Relationship, Middle-Age Steddie, Christmas, He's a Grinch, But His Heart Grew Three Sizes That Day, Eddie POV

This one is also available right here on AO3.

"This is ridiculous!" Eddie screams as loud as he can, from the bottom of the ladder. Which is pretty loud. Eddie's not exactly known for his timid demeanor. Especially when he's offended, and this really offends him.

"Yes, Eddie, I heard you the first hundred times!" Steve screams back, from the top of the ladder. Stapling another string of lights to the house. 

He's been doing it for hours. Literal hours. It's cold, snow on the ground, and Eddie is fucking tired of holding the ladder, his fingers are frozen, even in his gloves. But he can't just walk off and let Steve fall to his death. 

"That's enough! You're gonna kill the power to the whole neighborhood!" Eddie yells, trying anything to get him off that fucking ladder.

Steve scoffs. Eddie hears him, even from all the way up there. 

"I'm not Clark Griswold!" Steve shouts back.

Eddie sighs. No, he's not. But that's what they are obviously using as an inspiration for this amount of lights. It's too much. A monstrosity, and they'll never be able to afford the electricity bill. They've been together for years, decades, and Steve still struggles with the idea that they have a budget. 

It drives Eddie insane. 

And about these lights? Eddie's done the math. This is going to cost thousands of dollars to run all month. Thousands of dollars. 

For Christmas lights.

Eddie doesn't approve of this, not at all. He's called Wayne to complain, several times, and Wayne just grunts, not as affronted as Eddie thought he'd be. Wayne understands not wasting electricity, he's the one that followed Eddie around the trailer turning off lights, even ones Eddie was sometimes still using.

"I hear you, Scrooge," Wayne had finally said, "but, can you afford it?"

Eddie had sighed, and muttered a begrudgingly quiet, "Yes."

"Then let the boy be merry," Wayne had drawled, and Eddie had wanted to pull his hair out. He could look even more like Wayne, if he did.

There's being merry, and there's…whatever Steve is, right now.

Eddie doesn't even like Christmas, so this is a hard time of the year in their house. Steve is always acting like they are in the middle of Rockefeller Center, all giant Christmas trees and ice skating rinks. And then there's Eddie, just sitting idly by, wishing for January. 

He doesn't want to drag a real tree into the house. They're a fire hazard. And Eddie doesn't want to traipse out to the tree farm, cut a damn tree down, and pick up pine needles for a month. No thanks.

So, Steve finally relented, and bought an artificial one. And then Eddie saw how much that motherfucker cost, and nearly had a goddamn stroke. It's a plastic tree. It should have been twenty dollars. 

He leans his forehead against the cold metal rung of the ladder.

He's trying. It's just hard. He does the bills. He's going to be the one that has to look at those insane numbers on the electricity bill next month just for running Christmas lights that they can't even see from inside the house, and cut a check. 

"Hey, Grinch ass, I need more staples!" Steve yells, and Eddie grumbles, but passes him up another box from the step. Steve puts them in the front pocket of his gray hooded sweatshirt after he's reloaded the staple gun.

"Hate, hate, hate. Double hate. LOATHE ENTIRELY!" Eddie shouts, quoting The Grinch back at him. If Steve wants to call him The Grinch, Eddie'll be the fucking Grinch. 

Steve's almost forty, and he's on a ladder like he's twenty. It's stupid. He's going to get hurt. 

And, do you know how much a trip to the ER costs? Eddie's pretty certain Steve doesn't.

"You're too old to be up on that ladder!" Eddie yells up at him, and Steve laughs. He laughs so hard he has to hold onto the ladder so he doesn't actually fall off of it.

"How old do you think I am, dickhead?" Steve finally asks, "I'm thirty-nine. Not ninety-three, last I checked. I can still climb a ladder."

And he can. Eddie knows that. Steve's still in shape. Still active. Steve goes to the high school gym here in town almost every weekend and plays in the old timers basketball league with other men his age, or even older. Some of them are much, much older and still running up and down the court. So, Eddie knows forty isn't old. Eddie's forty, and he can still climb a ladder. Well, he could if wanted to. He definitely doesn't want to. 

"You're in the senior basketball league!" Eddie yells back, just poking at him a little bit more, just because he can.

"You got me there," Steve just says, smiling. "Give me another string of lights. If you're not too old to bend over. You're older than me, in case you've forgotten."

Eddie grumbles, he hasn't forgotten, and hands Steve another strand of lights.

So, the lights go up, one strand at a time. With Steve getting down and moving the ladder as he needs to, and then all the other decorations go out with them. It's a nightmare. He had to watch Steve and Robin make decorations for weeks. Carrying in sack after sack from the craft store. 

They made giant lollipops to line the sidewalk out of foam discs that they covered in colorful cellophane. They look good, even Eddie can see that, but they were a waste of time and money, he's pretty certain.

And they're putting holes in the lawn.

Eddie tried to put his foot down when they came rolling old, used tires up towards the garage. They didn't listen to him, they never do, and he had to watch as they spray painted them green, and stacked them up in tiers until they had fake Christmas trees. 

What sucks, is Eddie just knows he's going to be the one trying to dispose of the tires after Christmas is over. 

It's overkill, all of it.

And now, with the lights, Eddie just has to act complacent as he's basically hearing the electric meter whirring 'round and 'round, spinning like a faulty compass, all month long. 

It's torture. Pure torture.

Christmas morning is the usual tug-of-war. Steve wants to get up at six, and Eddie wants to sleep in. They don't have kids. There's no godforsaken reason for them to get up before dawn. They don't even exchange gifts. That stopped long ago, after Steve slowly realized Eddie is bad at receiving gifts, and even worse at giving them. 

So, they've opted out. 

Robin always brings Steve something perfect that Eddie could never compete with, anyway. 

But Steve likes a big breakfast on Christmas morning, always has. It's too much food. He always tries to get Steve to cut back, but Steve doesn't listen. Steve always makes the full spread, and eventually Eddie will roll out of bed, getting a cup of coffee and eating a huge plate of food that Steve's made. Pancakes, eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, ham steak, biscuits and gravy, hash browns, all of it. It's good. It's always good.

Just too much food, more than they can eat.

Eddie's still shoveling it into his mouth when Steve pushes a box towards him.

"What's this? We don't do gifts," Eddie says around a mouthful of hashbrowns, slathered in ketchup.

"You don't do gifts," Steve corrects with a smile. "I do gifts just fine."

Steve's teasing, and Eddie softens, just a little. He's been a dickhead, all month. He's not sure why Steve puts up with him at all. They are polar opposites, sometimes. Eddie, still loud and brash, and a little rude, and those are all things Steve Harrington outgrew as a teenager.  

He's kind, and thoughtful. And yes, he's fucking merry.

"I don't have anything for you," Eddie says, and he's embarrassed for the first time in a long time. Ashamed.

"I know you don't," Steve says. "I want you to have this anyway."

Eddie nods as he pulls the corner of the tape loose, and slides his thumb under it. It's a small kraft paper box, and Eddie pops off the lid, not sure what to expect. 

A thick, silver band wasn't something that had crossed his mind.

He looks up, finding Steve's eyes, a question on the tip of his tongue.

And Steve grins, but he looks a little uneasy, finally saying, "If you wanna marry me, we could do that, now."

Wayne was right. Eddie's been a Scrooge. A dickhead, a fucking Grinch, all month, no, for years, and for some reason Steve still wants to marry him. He will never understand why, but you can't explain love, he supposes. 

He just looks at the ring, a little stunned.

"I know you've always said," Steve continues quietly, looking down at the table, just for a second, before he looks back at Eddie, "that it didn't matter. So, I know none of this matters to you. Christmas. Marriage. All the unnecessary stuff. The things that cost good money for no good reason. I know that. But if you want to, I want to."

And Steve's chin quivers, just a little, the only thing giving him away before the first tears fill his eyes, and then fall. It's comical, that first tear. It's big, and is immediately chased by a few others. Hitting Steve's chin, and then his shirt. If it wasn't so fucking sad, it'd be funny.

"Steve, Jesus H. Christ," Eddie says, "of course I want to marry you. Yes," he says, picking the ring up out of the box and sliding it on his finger. It fits, but he knew it would. Because Steve doesn't get these things wrong. Not ever. 

They've been together for years, nearly twenty of them, and somehow Steve is still unsure that Eddie's all in? That he might not want to marry him? That can't be possible. No, way. Eddie doesn't need to get married. Just like he doesn't need a whole month of Christmas, or to go to Pride, or celebrate Valentine's Day. He isn't built that way. As Wayne would say, it isn't in his nature.

But somehow, somewhere along the way, he decided that what he thought was more important than the fact that all those things are important to Steve. 

It stuns him, suddenly. That this is still the case. He thought he'd grown up into a responsible adult. But, in some ways, he must still be that high school kid that was too good to go watch his friend play basketball. The one that'd rather Lucas just miss out on the end of the Hellfire campaign, than move it back a day or two.

Eddie scrubs his hand over his face.

He's really fucked this up, he realizes. For a long, long time. He'll do better, he will. 

Eddie gets out of his chair, squatting next to Steve's chair and both of his knees pop and crack. It's funny, Steve laughs, and Eddie does, too. 

"Don't say a word," Eddie warns, teasing him. It's clearly his karma for saying Steve was old when they were hanging lights. Now, his goddamn body has betrayed him. He had it coming, he's pretty sure.

He puts his hands on Steve's thighs, squeezing.

"I want to marry you. Of course, I do. I'm sorry if you thought that maybe I didn't," Eddie says, and he is sorry. So sorry. "I love you. So much. More than anything."

Steve smiles, gripping both his shoulders, "I wasn't questioning if you love me, Eddie. I know you love me. I was just unsure about the marriage part. I promise."

"I definitely want to marry you," Eddie says, and he means that. No, he wouldn't have thought about it on his own, probably, because he already feels married to Steve. He didn't need the damn government to finally catch up to make that true. But, yes, of course he wants to marry Steve, legally. He wants to be with him for twenty more years, and after that, forever.

As long as they've got.

"We can do something small. At the courthouse. In and out. Twenty minutes and twenty dollars," Steve promises.

Eddie shakes his head, he's not going to micromanage the cost of this thing Steve wants to do. Not this time, "We'll have the wedding you want, sweetheart. Even if it costs fifty dollars."

He's teasing, and Steve knows that, and Steve laughs as he's leaning down to kiss him. Eddie leans up to meet him, halfway this time. He's going to do that more often, try to meet him in the middle.

Later in the day, Steve is standing by the coat rack, and he says, "I'm gonna take the lights down, before it gets dark."

It's not an unusual statement. It's the compromise they've made over the years. The lights can go up, but as soon as Christmas morning is over, they gotta come down. It's ridiculous, and Eddie feels ashamed. What's a few more days? Honestly.

Eddie shakes his head, "No. Let's leave them up until after the new year."

And Steve smiles, big and bright.

That night, they stand on the curb, bundled up, watching the lights twinkle. Eddie can see the tree in the front window, and it's beautiful, too. Full, and decorated. Not like the sad, little tree he grew up with. It was probably worth the money Steve spent on it, he realizes. It looks real, especially from here.

And he's walked past it a thousand times in the house, never even really looking at it. Not seeing it. Not experiencing this beautiful thing Steve put in their house.

Steve has put a lot of beauty in Eddie's world, and Eddie regrets that he didn't take the time to notice it.

Back inside, Steve brings him a mug of hot chocolate, and it's in the silly Christmas Vacation moose mugs Steve bought a couple years ago, the ones that Eddie didn't think they needed. They have plenty of mugs, but these made Steve smile, so they bought them even after Eddie's protests. Tonight, he takes a hold of the antlers, with thanks.

They make him smile now, too. Because Steve is smiling.

That night, Eddie lays in bed, taking inventory of all the things he's given Steve grief about over the last twenty years. It's a long list, he realizes. Sure, Steve holds his own. Doesn't let Eddie steamroll him, not easily, not at all. Steve hasn't been cowed, Eddie is sure of that. Steve just decided to pick his battles, and has let the rest just roll off his back. 

No Christmas presents? Sure, that's fine. No birthday cake unless he buys his own? That's fine, too. Steve always says he'll know best what kind of cake he's hungry for this year, anyway.

When Steve wanted another BMW, and Eddie said they couldn't afford one, Steve picked something else. Something cheaper. When the oven broke, Steve said he wanted double ovens, wanted the extra space, for when they had friends over. 

Eddie was on board until he saw the price of them, and then he balked. Not to mention the cost of having them installed, and Steve didn't press the issue. He just picked a new middle of the road, single oven, and went on with life. 

They could, though. They could have afforded it. The ovens, for sure. And probably even the BMW with a little creativity. Eddie's made sure they have money squirreled away. It's a response to his childhood, and he knows that. Steve never wanted for anything, and there were times, before Wayne, that Eddie wanted for everything.

Steve never seems to get his feathers ruffled by any of these slights, so Eddie has just kept running their finances exactly how he prefers. 

But they can't take it with them, and they don't have kids. 

And that suddenly knocks the wind out of Eddie.

Years ago, Steve floated the idea of a kid, of adopting, and Eddie hadn't entertained it as a real suggestion. They didn't need a kid. Couldn't afford one, anyway, and they were good, just the two of them.

He reaches over and shakes Steve awake.

Steve looks at him, half-asleep, "What? What's wrong?"

"Do you want to have a baby?" Eddie asks, slightly unhinged.

"No," Steve says, like Eddie's an idiot, "but we could practice trying to make one, if you want," Steve adds, reaching out, and patting Eddie on the thigh. 

It makes Eddie laugh. 

"Yeah, some practice sounds good," Eddie says.

And Steve rolls over on top of him, and Eddie forgets, just for a second, why he was worried in the first place. They're happy. He knows that, believes it. Even if they aren't always on exactly the same page.

Eddie will try to be on the same page more often. Even if it's in a book that he's unfamiliar with.

He's pretty sure Steve's too sleepy to follow through, but it's nice to feel the familiar weight of him covering his body, and Eddie just rubs Steve's bare back in soft, delicate strokes until Steve has fallen back asleep.

And Eddie is a man of his word, even if the only person he promised change to was himself. So, he does try. When Valentine's Day rolls around, Eddie brings home roses. And chocolates. And a teddy bear. It's a little bit much, but Steve laughs, and accepts it all. Giving Eddie a kiss, and nothing else, and that's more than fine with Eddie.

He's the one in the hole, here. The ledger is majorly off-balance, and that just won't do. He needs to settle up his debts.

For Pride, Eddie puts on rainbow-colored clothing of Robin's choosing, and follows Steve and Robin to the parade. He walks right beside them, his head held high. Happy, because they're happy.

When Steve comes home on his birthday, the living room is filled with black helium balloons, because while Eddie might be getting on board, it's still Steve's fortieth, and he's not about to miss this opportunity. No way in hell. There's a cake on the counter, shaped like a headstone. Eddie ordered it weeks ago. From an actual bakery, and paid for it, without complaining about the cost. Well, at least not out loud. He's complained in his head aplenty.

Steve has a grocery store cake in his hands. He hasn't realized yet that that's not gonna be necessary anymore. That's okay, Eddie will keep this up until Steve forgets there was ever a time he was responsible for buying his own birthday cake.

And when Christmas rolls around again, Eddie is up on a second ladder, hanging lights next to his husband. He's pretty sure they'll put up more than last year. He helped draft the design, drawing it on a piece of printer paper, in full color.

Steve framed it. Like it was art. Like it was important.

Maybe it is. 

Eddie's done trying to tell Steve what's important. He's going to let Steve tell him for a while.

Eddie gets down to get another string of lights, and he did replace the old incandescent C9's with LED Christmas lights, in the same style. Because they use eighty percent less electricity, which is exactly what Eddie, the old Grinch that he is, likes to hear.

Just because his heart grew three sizes that day, doesn't mean he's stopped looking at the electricity bill. He's not crazy.

Sure, the new lights cost more up front, but he's learned his lesson, and just opened his wallet and pulled out his credit card, keeping his mouth shut. They'll save money in the long run, and they'll make Steve happy. That's a win-win.

And really, that's all Eddie's ever wanted. To make Steve happy. He just got a little lost along the way.

Money is important, sure.

But Steve, definitely, means a little bit more.

Notes: I cried while writing this. I cried a little more while editing this. I don't know. Don't look at me like that. It is what it is, and sometimes life pairs you up with someone that doesn't exactly speak your love language. And you still love them anyway.

Several people have done the math on Clark Griswold's lights, and while none of them have the same end figure, it seems, at a minimum, he spent about $3700 to run his lights during the month of December.

And does that header image not look like it could actually be an older Steve Harrington, or what? I don't know if it's the jeans, or the watch, but as soon as I saw it, I was like, yep, that's the one for this day. (Credit: It's an Adobe stock image.)

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along! 🎄

[moralanxietystudio]

Roadwarden - In Search of Urgency Through Limitations

(This is a repost of my Twitter thread that got quite a dose of love yesterday, so I figured you may be interested in it as well.

1/ Hi! I was invited to post a thread for #MAMG23 on a unique feature of my fantasy game, Roadwarden. I’d like to tell you about its most controversial design choice - the time limit. The expectation that you’ll finish the game without seeing some parts of what it has to offer.

2/ In RW, you play as a single character patrolling the roads of a distant peninsula, aiding or harming its tribes. This land has grown detached from any strong, governmental body, and you start the game as an outsider, an agent, a spy sent here by the city.

3/ You’re encouraged to travel, make friends, learn more, but instead of being The Chosen One, you’re just a rider, a traveling sheriff. And you’re meant to get back to the city soon - usually, in 40 days, after which you are held accountable for your actions and their outcomes.

4/ You start with a personal goal you can select from a short list, and a few other quests to guide you, but none of them are obligatory. You may shape the fate of various people, or even whole settlements, but that’s just a small dent in the grand scheme of things.

5/ I think the reason why it works is that RW tries to make you feel attached to its NPCs and villages. Most people are guarded at first, but open up as you prove your worth to them - or manipulate them. You get options to spend time with them, to share meals and ale.

6/ You see NPCs’ perspectives as you exchange news and rumors. You get familiar with the way people get by, with their routines, and their plans for the future. My NPCs may not have the most depth, but in many ways, you get to learn about their vulnerabilities.

7/ At the start of the game, you’re also vulnerable system-wise, and you won’t increase your stats much. Instead, you rely on others to help you get out of the loop of hindrances. You grow closer with people - by quests, trading, hanging out - and open access to convenient tools.

8/ You unlock new shelters, free supplies, free care, free advice, lower prices, even direct help during tasks. You collect favors. It’s no wonder you may grow attached to NPCs and their problems, and actually care about what’s going to happen to them.

9/ (It’s a very different approach to many older video game plots, where your character would get dropped into mid-apocalypse, saving the world they know nothing about, or trying to save their sibling/village after a brief introduction, relying on our real-life contexts.)

10/ Your character is weak, and travels between the “points of light” (villages, inns) and the threatening wilderness, seeking ways to optimize your journeys, avoiding threats until prepared to face them, sticking to the main roads at first, then exploring the more obscure paths.

11/ But the game needed tension to make this work, to let you game the systems while pushing you into taking an occasional leap of faith. Balancing between risk and preparations is where the challenge comes from. Hence - the time limit.

12/ In the core game mode, the character has 40 in-game days to explore the peninsula. They can complete the game before that, but once the time runs out, they are forced to return to the city - very often begrudgingly. Not many people get to finish all of the quests. 

13/ Without save-scumming (reloading the game in hopes to get better results) or looking up a guide / seeking advice online, the player will struggle. I didn’t intend for them to see everything during their first playthrough. They’re meant to taste failure.

14/ RW is most rewarding when the player accepts their character’s shortcomings. When they decide that they need to leave a village to itself since they lack the time to help it. That they can’t rescue a traveler, or a place, because they’ve got to move on.

15/ Judging by RW’s reception, it’s an unintuitive, and not exactly welcome, design. Most people, myself included, expect to have the option to 100% the game from the get go. Despite my best efforts, it seems like I didn’t succeed at setting the game’s promises correctly.

16/ The tutorial section of the game tries to set the expectations straight. It promises that the peninsula is overgrowing, wild, filled with monsters, that the locals are *pagans*, that the time limit is pressing. But many players don’t treat these threats seriously.

17/ Oftentimes, they see these promises as the set up for a story of success, something to overcome with enough grind and wit. It seems like the game failed at making it clear that it tries to embrace human limitations, that it’s a part of the core experience.

18/ The game didn’t make it clear that by deciding what matters to you the most, whom you want to help, whom you leave behind, which mysteries you unravel, which conflicts you solve, and when you put your needs above others - you get to make meaningful choices.

19/ My ideas did resonate with some, and I saw people playing the game once on the “standard” mode, then again, on the “casual” mode - with no time limit - to experience the rest of the story threads. I think it’s even better to take a longer break between playthroughs.

20/ This way, you focus on your character, and encounter the realm beyond your grasp. You get to embrace your mistakes and choices. If you return to the game after a year or two, it will feel different, as you are also not going to be the same being.

21/ It may not be a reasonable expectation on my part. But to justify myself, I’d like to make it clear that the time limit is not just a gimmick, but rather a system I play with in many ways. You can’t travel during nighttime. You need to restore stats every day.

22/ Some quests disappear or show up on specific days. Some actions are available only at specific hours. Days get shorter. You can care for the roads to ride faster. In many ways, time is a resource, and various tasks can be solved by spending it.

23/ Take the wooden lantern, as an example. You can buy it from a merchant, or hang out with a friendly carpenter to make your own, chatting with his neighbors. What do you need more right now? Money? Coins? Friendship? Without the time limit, you’d get limitless resources.

24/ The world of Roadwarden is rotting, collapsing, fading away, reaching a new form. With no time limit, it’s a playground, a place to be tamed according to your will. And the time limit was meant to turn it into a mystery, an interactive adventure. #MAMG23

[s-sunnydays]

things left unsaid in artist’s depiction

i dont know if anyone checks this blog since i havent posted, but i guess i could share the things i never got to share since i discontinued artist’s depiction!

also, warning: there are trigger warnings!

iris was the one who reloaded the SAVE file and had gone insane since the mc had died in the fire. she was the one who also caused the accident, but she didn’t mean to; it was supposed to keep the mc from leaving since the machine was really close to being fixed and such.

faye had died at around six to nine years old because she’d gotten too sick and the mc couldn’t afford to enough money to keep her alive or to buy her any sort of medicine.

victor and sierra did run away because they were chased by debtors and all of that since they always messed with the wrong people in their lives. though, they don’t care about that as much, they didn’t want the others to get involved. i didn’t think much about how they died, but i would say that they ended up dying far away and no one knew since the mc couldn’t contact them – lost all contact with them.

sans never liked iris and iris never liked sans, they both just liked the idea of being in a relationship. and, sans gradually learns that iris liked mc the most – the best. even if she treated them horribly

there weren’t any sort of coherent thoughts about how the ending would go, but i assumed that there would be a polyamorous relationship with the mc and the skelebros aus where they could visit the original timeline any time they wanted since the machine and the tear was fixed.

iris’ feelings were never reciprocated

iris was mc’s childhood friend, and learned everything from them – how their life worked, how they had three siblings (never knew about oliver).

the mother ended up dying without oliver knowing – she died from overdosing on medication.

oliver vaguely remembers faye, but doesn’t know about the rest of the siblings. mc never told him until later, where he finds a picture of the other three – he asks why he looks related to victor and sierra and why faye looks so similar to the mc

the mc’s past is eventually revealed by iris or someone else, but other than that, it was basically mutual agreement to tell

the reason why oliver was taken away in the first timeskip was because the mistreatment that the mc had received ended up putting them past their breaking point. and then they started acting like a terrible brother, so they had to let him go – they had to take him to some other place; somewhere where he would be safe.

i have the next chapter, though it is unfinished.

WORK IS TIRING.

You suppose that since Iris pays you to work for her, you’ve been going to your job a lot less — within schedule, at least. Not many days are assigned to you.

“Hey, [Name],” Iris coos from her spot in front of you, sitting at the counter. “Do you wanna go shopping with me and the boys? I’m sure you’ll need something there. It’d the mall, after all! Who wouldn’t want to, like, you know — go shopping with me? I’ll pay for whatever you want.” She sings like a witch—or a siren, depending on the person—and you make a face inwardly.

At first, you would’ve said no. Just a simple no and everything would’ve been fine.

You suppose that no is also not in your vocabulary most of the time.

”…Let me ask my brother,” you mutter in response, pulling out your phone begrudgingly. You send him a message, waiting for his response.

If he says yes, you can only hope that the others don’t start causing problems with him around. You don’t mind the hate, the stares, the faces — just as long he can’t see them; hear them; you’re okay with it. As long as he can’t witness it, it’s fine. That’s all that mattered to you.

——

“Okay~”

Iris looks excited for some reason, but you don’t question it entirely.

You stare at the group of skeletons with a squint of your eyes, wondering where more came from. You should’ve known that the trip to the mall was basically restocking for the rest of the alternates stuck here — though you’re not sure if any of them really need anything. They seem to be more well off than you.

“Malls’re so big!” Your brother whispers to you, stunned by the size of the shopping mall you’re in. You have to agree. “What kind’a stores do they have in here?”

You have to agree with him.

To say that malls are huge is an understatement, you think they’re bigger than most mansions you’ve seen. Then again, you probably just don’t know what malls are like because your mother always told you that they were too expensive and a scam. You always did like sticking to every word she said to you, but that’s in the past. You could care less nowadays.

”I dunno,” you answer honestly. Your eyes scan your surroundings, squinting them when you realize just how large the building is. “Never gone to ‘em either, bro.”

“You haven’t taken your brother to the mall before?” Iris asks loudly, eyes wide with surprise. She glances between you and your brother curiously, obviously shocked — but you don’t even know how she heard you two whispering. It’s not like the others care enough to try and overhear, so why was she trying to be nosy?

Some of the skeletons turn to you, some glance at you, and the rest ignores you (out of pity, you don’t know).

”No,” your brother answers, confused. “We only go to the small ones ‘cause [Name] doesn’t like big stores.”

Well now.

Iris turns to you, frowning at you — you have to say, you don’t know why she’s looking at you like that because it’s not her business — and tells you, “You haven’t taken sweet little Oliver to a mall, [Name]? Shame on you! Malls are great, they have everything you’d need!”

You don’t know how to tell her off without calling her a spoiled brat.

”He already said why I don’t take him to big stores,” you point out, somewhat embarrassed that she had to call you out in front of everyone. “And, uh, malls are expensive… and, y’know, big — he’d get lost.”

“Are you saying you don’t trust your—“

You give her a look of irritation, and for once, the skeletons with you don’t seem too upset about it. Probably because they understand your situation or probably just—the conversation isn’t necessary.

“Are we done?” You don’t care if you interrupt her or get on Sans’ nerves because of it. “If we’re done, I can take Oliver shopping then. See you later, just call me when y—“

And Iris just loves thinking it’s her turn for everything. “We can hang out like old times! You know, when we were in high school together and stuff. Plus,” she shoots you a wink, “we have a lot to catch up on — we haven’t been, like, talking to each other at all! Come on, Sans, let’s go.” You don’t say anything when you see the flickering of his pinpricks or the not-so-subtle glances to your brother from the girl.

You stare at her, narrowing your eyes.

”It can’t be that bad,” your brother tries to soothe your vexation. “‘S okay! Maybe Red ‘n Edge can come with!”

Iris’ face twitches.

Sans’ smile falters. “since when were you buddies with ‘em, kid?”

Red grins widely, almost as if taunting the poor guy. “what’s wrong with bein’ friends wit’ a guy like me? i can come with, i got nothin’ to do anyways… maybe the, uh, boss can come with if he oh so wishes.”

“CAN IT, S—RED,” Edge catches himself and corrects himself. He ignores the looks given and clears his throat. “I SHALL GIFT THE HUMANS WITH MY PRESENCE, SINCE THEY ARE SO DESPERATE TO HANG OUT WITH ME. AND, I AM CURIOUS TO SEE WHAT SORT OF… STORES ARE IN THIS SPECIFIC MALL!”

Your brother shoots you a smile.

You squint your eyes.

Rus puts a hand on your shoulder and nudges Mutt. “‘ey, maybe we can finally get that thing wallet owed me. dunno what it is, but it’s gotta be somethin’.”

“…whatever you say, rus,” Mutt mutters and shrugs his shoulders compliantly. He looks like he just wants to sleep, and you can’t say you blame him. It’s not like you want to be here either, it was obvious that most of the monsters here didn’t want to be here either. You’re sure there’s some other meaning behind it.

”I don’t owe you anything, Rus.”

”sure thing, wallet.”

”They’re not your wallet!”

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

ahem- you ever get tagged 3 times by 3 different mutuals on the same post like damn. We really do be living in the same neighborhood, right across the street from one another @urjover @ananxiousgenz @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl

3 blorbos for 3 tags:

1) Lovely gorgeous fanart of the Persona 3 MC, I haven't finished playing Reload yet, but he'd be the only good parent on this list

2) Kim makes a good adult, great role model, but an adoption from him would have to meet very specific criteria. He'd be a good father, albeit, begrudgingly so

3) I would not want to be family with 707, I cannot even begin to explain why this is on my phone.

PARTICIPATION IS OPTIONAL!! : @kitsuna21-alt

last fictional character in ur camera roll just adopted u

(Yes I did do this only because I want him to adopt me. Fuck off)

tags: @cryptidwithaninternetconnection @reggie-the-inferi @gingerbreadeel24 @pickupstyx

and whoever the fuck sees this

[hiraethhh-h]

michael, anna, and pyramid head with a gn!s/o who (somehow) gets high during a trial (HCs)

Anonymous asked: Hello... Can you do headcanons for Micheal, Huntress, And Pyramid Head with a s/o that somehow manages to get themself high during trial? I feel like their reactions would be funny

let’s say frank passed you some good stuff before the trial, cuz your average joe doesn’t just find drugs laying around in the Entity’s realm HSDJKF

warning(s): drug use, some suggestive content

michael myers - the shape

the sound of giggling drew the masked killer towards the corner of the swamp

michael did find it odd that he had only spotted 3 out of the usual 4 survivors, but it wasn’t the first time that had happened

perhaps whoever was having a giggling-fit was the fourth?

michael rounded the log, only to spot you seated on the muddy floor

having heard michael’s breathing beneath his mask, you slowly turned to the infamous stalker

“hey michael…”

with the way you slurred your words and had completely bloodshot eyes, michael knew exactly what you had done

he eventually spotted the little roll in your hand, the end still lit and slowly burning

you slowly stand and stumble your way over to him, catching yourself by grabbing onto his mechanic suit

you get mud all over him, but michael doesn’t care, he’s been covered in worse

“your mask is smiling at me. ‘s kinda creepy.”

michael simply stares down at you, his knife lax in his dominant hand

eventually, he turns away to do his job, practically dragging you along since you’re still latched to him

he stops moving upon feeling your hands snaking around his chest and squeezing his pecs

“hehe… mikey your boobs are nice.”

yep… it was gonna be a long trial.

anna - the huntress

she slammed david onto the hook with a satisfied smile, relishing in his screaming as she trudges to the nearest locker and reloads her hatchets

anna eventually goes back to humming, ignoring the male spitting obscenities at her

she eventually leaves him be, heading across the ironworks to work on hooking another survivor

but the scent of something… weird catches her attention

anna immediately heads in the direction it’s coming from, her curiosity piqued

she approaches some boxes near the main building, spotting you seated on the ground between the boxes

she lowers her axe, tilting her head

you give her a small wave, patting the spot next to you

anna does walk over to you, but she remains standing

it’s easy for her to piece together that you aren’t yourself right now

she crouches down and takes the small baggie resting on your leg and brings it closer to her face for inspection

anna eventually pockets the bag, looking back down at you

“noooo…! my noms!’

she just reaches down to pick you up and slings you over her shoulder

time for her to look for a spot that can keep you safe while she finishes up the trial

pyramid head - the executioner

a deep growl left the killer as nea threw the pallet down on him, the survivor wasting no time in blinding him with her flashlight

after the effects wear off, pyramid head begrudgingly continues his search for the street artist

he hears faint cursing behind him and he has never turned around so fast

pyramid head beelines it for the killer shack, stepping into the decrepit hut

only to find you seated between the lockers, coughing and waving a wad of smoke away from you

if he had eyes, pyramid head would be blinking in confusion

what the fuck were you doing???

his curious gurgling catches your attention and your face brightens upon seeing the killer

“hey pyra! can i check if your ass wobbles? ‘m curious.”

absolutely the fuck not, his ass does not wobble thank you very much

pyramid head makes his way to you, his helmet tilted downwards so he can properly see what you were doing

you held a little blunt between your fingers, the executioner quick to grab it and crush it in his hand, uncaring if it burns him

you whine out in protest, pouting at his actions

pyramid head simply stares down at you before leaving you be

[ask-the-dweets]

Updated little cowboys, remember back when I said I’d never draw them because their outfits were a pain? hah ha hah welp that ship has long since sailed and I only drift farther and farther into cowboy hell

And this universe only gets more and more detailed, so anyways it’s mainly just a rehashing but if you guys wanna read about the cowboy Dweets I’ll dump some info under the read more

There’s more RDbD content over at @reddeadbydaylight too!

AND if you want even more RDbD content, there’s also AO3!

Some base AU lore:

This technically isn’t a true AU, the Dweets are still in the fog and have just been taken into a different realm by a different Entity where their memories were wiped and they live their lives in a western setting. When they die they come back to life the following day, and with each death they start to regain their memories. Depending on how they died they likely remember their deaths too. Until they’ve died too many times and are sent back to their respective campfires or realms.

This realm is extremely similar to that of Red Dead Redemption 2, however there can be extra towns and places that are not in the game

The Entity that runs the show of the western Red Dead by Daylight realm is Deadeyes ( @/deadeyesrealm)

Since the survivors and killers in this world have had their memories wiped they’re often given false memories to help them make sense of the world they live in, these slowly fade as they regain their true memories. 

They’re also given skills and knowledge to live in a western setting

Some Base Dweet lore:

Known as the Fairfield brothers around their town of Strawberry, it’s home base for the three of them, though it’s rare for Eugene or Paisley to stick around for too long as their jobs involve travelling a lot. 

As far as they’re aware they’re triplets at the age of 25, of course this isn’t really the case but false memories sure do be something.

Their names: Paisley, Finley, and Eugene are their middle names. Their first names are all Dwight, they assume this is a cruel joke by their parents (which are never seen in this world)

Each of them still favour their signature colours and outfit styles, some more begrudgingly than others 

Being three working men all living (for the most part) under one roof, they aren’t poor.... but due to their terrible luck they aren’t very wealthy either. Constantly having to fix wagons, glasses, saddles and so on really puts a dent in the wallet.

Paisley (Pizza)

Outfit: The Dwights are still inclined to wear their signature outfits from the fog. Pizza leans towards wearing yellows and reds because of this. He almost always has a hat, gloves, and his bandoliers as well.

Personality: Nervous and anxious easily, he’s rather cowardly and although he loves socializing with people he also has a hard time with it. A little too trusting of other people at times, he’s not always the best judge of character if they treat him nice. He also enjoys being helpful and being noticed for it, he will help around if he can.

Skills: An absolutely amazing marksman and quickdraw. You would assume his aim is poor due to his clearly poor vision (glasses) but he has a deadeye ability that lets him hit his mark 100% of the time. He’s good with most gun types but best with rifles and revolvers. Pretty much any and all of his skills revolve around guns. (ie. deadeye, quickdraw, gun spinning, very quick reloading, gun care, etc.)

Weaknesses: Cowardly, spooks easily. He’s a poor liar and wears his emotions on his sleeve. Meaning he’s a terrible accomplice and can also be rather easy to manipulate at times.

Likes: Socializing with others, his guns (or really guns in general), cats, praise, being useful and helpful

Dislikes: Being and working alone, cacti, cruel/immoral people, sounds of the wilderness (he jumpy)

Occupation: A bounty hunter/ hired gun, people normally come to him with work rather than the other way around. It’s rare that he seeks it out himself. When he’s not traveling for work he helps Finley forage and craft around the office or helps Eugene with his trade routes. He also collects useful things for Finley when he can while he’s travelling.

Home: Paisley’s home base is the shared home in Strawberry. Outside of that he does not have another place to stay and often just camps or stays at inns when he travels. He can be away from Strawberry for months at a time (rarely but it does happen) 

Horse: 

♀Astra, the chestnut tovero mustang. 

Easy going and quite polite, she doesn’t spook easy and is very loyal. It’s not too hard to earn her trust and you could ride her without her knowing you, she’ll only show a bit of attitude.

Extra info: 

Despite his main thing being guns he does not like shooting and/or killing people and would much rather avoid it altogether if he can.

If he does have to shoot someone he normally aims for extremities that wouldn’t kill them. Feet, hands, legs, arms, maybe a shoulder. Or will simply disarm them by shooting the weapon out of their hand.

He is interested in pretty much anything gun related and knows a variety of skills involved with them. 

Not only is he a sniper but he can dual wield his pistols

He’s also a very quick draw thanks to lots of practice

Can do a ton of different gun spins, he can spin his rifles a little too but mainly his revolvers and other hand guns

He can also reload, reassemble and dismantle a gun very quickly

Of course with his obsession for guns, he collects them. He has his main 4 weapons and most likely a few more dismantled guns in his saddle bag if he earned them on his travels. He also has a small collection back in his room at home.

He’s happy to sell, trade, and even give away the guns that aren’t his daily drivers

Though he is obsessed with guns and is very skilled with them, he is not much of a show off. He can be caught spinning his guns around sometimes but he rarely shows off his skills for attention. Too many people have been jealous and mean about it.

Paisley has also been learning how to play the guitar, he received one as a reward and decided to keep it rather than sell it. He only knows a couple songs and can’t really just jam but he’s been enjoying it.

In a similar fashion he can make a beat with his guns by shaking, hitting, cocking, loading and unloading, etc.

He’s a decent hunter as long as he can use his guns. He mainly hunts small game as he’s not very knowledgeable about the care and prep of larger game.

Finley (Fancy)

Outfit: The Dwights are still inclined to wear their signature outfits from the fog. Finley tends to wear nicer clothing with accents of pink, vests are very common as well. 

Personality: Very friendly and social, he likes to visit and chat with others but is okay to busy himself around his home too. At the same time though he’s very insecure and although he’s friendly to others he never feels like he’s doing enough and has a hard time believing people genuinely like him. He really doesn’t like being pushed around or mistreated and due to his kindness people have tried to pull fast ones on him. He is rather lenient but will put his foot down if absolutely necessary. Especially if it affects others negatively.

Skills: Well he’s a doctor for one, so naturally he can identify wounds and ailments with varying degrees of success. He can identify herbs and understands their medical value and how to prepare them, and can craft soaps and perfumes. He is also very skilled with horses and horse riding, and has taught Sable many things.

Weaknesses: He desperately seeks approval from everyone and has a bad habit of overworking himself and ignoring his own needs as a result. Wanting to be kind to everyone he can be far too forgiving and friendly, luckily this doesn’t normally bite him in the ass thanks to his occupation.

Likes: Socializing with others, cats, horses, riding and racing, Being helpful and useful, praise, cute and pretty things (ie. flowers, animals, artwork, etc.)

Dislikes: Being talked down to or bossed around, rich snobby tourists, loud noises (gunfire, shouting, etc.), very large loud groups of people

Occupation: A doctor, the front portion of his home is the doctor's office where he examines and patches up patients (if he’s not traveling to their homes). He also has a shop front for selling herbs, soaps, perfumes, and shelf medicine.

Home: The main owner and occupant of the large house in strawberry. The front of the building is used for his job while the back and upstairs are the living quarters. The upstairs has the brother’s three bedrooms as well as a small lounging area. Finley’s room is a largest with a rather nice bed since he is there almost all the time.

Horse:

♀Sable, the chestnut turkoman. 

An extremely finicky horse and Finley's whole world, he loves her to bits. She’s very temperamental for anyone who isn’t Finley and has been likened to a demon/hellspawn. She’s very clingy to Finley and knows many cool tricks, unfortunately nobody else can benefit from them. She is also very fast and loves galloping full speed and doing obstacle runs.

Extra info:

Since Finley mainly stays in Strawberry and only travels on the rare occasion he busies himself with hobbies

- Foraging his own materials and herbs - Making his own ointments and salves - Crafting soaps and perfumes - Learning to play the bass and piano - Horse riding and racing

He does actually enjoy traveling too and likes to try new things but doesn’t often get the chance, though he likes Strawberry he does crave adventure sometimes

Cooking isn’t really a hobby. He’s decent at it, especially since he’s a home-body but he tends to practice other things rather than his cooking skills.

He is an absolutely horrid fisher, for whatever reason his terrible luck really shows with fishing. He’s highly likely to fall in the water, lose the rod, snap the line, and various other things.

He’s surprisingly decent at bow fishing though

Finley has the worst luck imaginable, if something goes wrong it’s highly likely to go wrong in the worst way possible

He takes care of the three Strawberry cats, he’s not the only person in town who does this but they do often follow him around and seek him out for attention. He named them Cammy, Dilly, and Minty

If he were to die enough to remember he was called Fancy back at the campfire, he would still ask to be called Finley because he doesn’t really like the nickname Fancy

Eugene (Elf)

Outfit: The Dwights are still inclined to wear their signature outfits from the fog. Eugene wears red and green colours and has an inclination to sweaters and ponchos. Once he realized why he was inclined to wear these outfits he did try to wear something else but unfortunately he gets unreasonably uncomfortable in non-christmassy clothing. He doesn’t really complain much about it but can be noticeably irritated if someone brings it up.

Personality: Not as talkative as the other two but still friendly and does still enjoy socializing. He’s tired a lot of the time and can be a little irritable but he isn’t one to blow up in someone’s face without good reason. He’ll take shit from others but only in the way that he’ll be quiet and death glare, if you’re being rude to him or his friends/family don’t expect him to do anything for you.

Skills: Great stealth and good at hand-to-hand combat, he can surprise people with his strength if they expect him to be like most Dwights. As a hunter he is a good mark with his bow and a decent trapper. He also knows how to prepare a carcass, tan hides, and smoke/preserve meats. He can also craft his own arrows.

Weaknesses: He carries a lot of self doubt that has him making poor decisions sometimes. He’s also tired pretty much all of the time and if he’s not working he’s probably resting. When he sleeps he’s dead to the world.

Likes: helping others and being useful, praise, cats, socializing with others, quiet calm mornings, coffee, relaxing, a cozy fireplace

Dislikes: inescapable heat, storms, conceited people, his outfits, jingling sounds

Occupation: A hunter, trapper and trader. He hunts up in the mountains and crafts goods to sell to near and far buyers. Sometimes he does these trade routes himself, sometimes he gets outside help. He also collects useful things for Finley when he can.

Home: Eugene has a room in the Strawberry home where he stays during the colder months when the mountains are too dangerous to stay in. During the warmer months he lives in his mountain cabin, coming down every now and again for supplies or to drop off goods.

Horses:

♂Beau, the bay roan ardennes. 

A horse that’s built like, and rides like, a tank. He’s not fast nor is he very agile but he’s nothing if not reliable. Extremely mild mannered, there’s virtually no way you can spook this horse…. Or get him to move if you don’t know his commands.

♀Noelle, the raven black shire.

Massive and very strong, another tank that’s very reliable. She’s mainly used for pulling Eugene’s wagon but she is also rideable. Tacking her up and mounting her can be a struggle simply because of her size. She is very loving and can be easily won over with treats and pats. Just be prepared for a huge horse head bumping you around for attention.

Extra info: 

Eugene is the first to die and start remembering the fog, he dies many times before the other two. The mountains and trading is a rough business.

Eugene isn’t quite as sad or mad as he is around the survivor campfire, and although he’s irritable it’s still relatively difficult to provoke him.

He’s a little more agreeable and patient than he is in the fog. Of course that doesn’t mean he’ll take your shit if you push him.

He’s not against hurting others if they’ve proven themselves to be dangerous in a life/livelihood threatening sort of way.

Since outlaws like to hide in the mountains he has helped a few shelter in the cold and has also cleared some out. He’s even turned in some bounties if he could be bothered.

He’s not working all of the time and has a few hobbies he busies himself with.

He has a harmonica that he enjoys playing on his down-time

He also enjoys whittling wood, and wood carving

Eugene hates jingling sounds, so much so that he does not wear spurs. He’s even put leather straps around some of the metal loops on the horses tack to make them jingle less.

this has the bonus effect of helping make him even more stealthy, though that was not the initial goal

[party-gilmore]

Honestly after like. 12 Step Job ("I was aiming for his leg") and Boys Night Out ("I TOLD YOU NOT TO PLAY WITH THAT") Eliot is honestly probably like

...yeah I absolutely can not allow this. if I ever fail, if I'm dead, because that's the only way I would accept being unable to get to him in time, and Hardison ever does wind up in a situation where someone else's gun actually is his best shot at survival? I gotta make sure he can actually fucking use it safely.

So he shoves all his trauma about it into the little box he made back in the airport warehouse and drags Hardison to a range. Insists on showing him how to check any gun he might get off a goon to make sure it'll work, that it'll fire, HOW to fire, etc.

All the while trying hard not to think about Hardison being in that situation. Hardison, having to take life, even if just to survive. Forcing his hands to be still as he demonstrates (he'd hoped it would be easier, because it's just a range and circle targets, but in his mind's eye he can still see people at the other end of his sight, and when he pulls the trigger he refuses to close his eyes against the mental image of blood spatter because Hardison is watching him and he has to set the right example. he can't have Hardison thinking it's alright to look away from the ball at the end of his swing).

He's not quite fully satisfied by the end of the day, but Hardison makes him call it. Refuses to even watch another reload until they go home and Eliot rests and they come back another day. Hardison tells Eliot that his face is chalk white, his pulse racing, his pupils dilated and eyes wild. Eliot realizes he's sweating, even though he feels cold, and begrudgingly capitulates. That's probably not a good sign, huh?

Hardison drives on the way back, and Eliot stares out the window.

"...hey, man, you don't have to-"

"I do." His voice is quiet, shakey. "I do. You might need to know. It's more dangerous not to. At least the basics."

"Eliot, that range has trained professionals. They can teach me."

"I can teach you better."

"Not like this, you can't."

It's quiet for another minute.

"It's stupid," Eliot looks small, suddenly, hunched against the window. Even smaller than when he's on a grift. "It's not even... it's just a paper target."

"...I still can't sleep in total darkness."

"What?"

"Like," Hardison drums his fingers nervously against the wheel. "Doesn't matter that I can feel my own bed under me. Doesn't matter that I can recognize the sounds of pipes or traffic, or have Parker breathing next to me. That I'm clearly in a room above ground. I still need a light. It's not stupid, it's trauma."

They drive in silence for the next three blocks.

"...I won't shoot next time. You've seen what you need to. I'll just... adjust your positioning."

"...we can work with that."

[xenodile]

Additional information re:the Black Knives and their allegiance, spoilers ahead.

After the player kills the maddened Blaidd at the end of his quest, you can talk to Iji and inform him of Blaidd's passing. Iji expresses shock that Blaidd got out of the Evergaol, and awe at Blaidd's loyalty to Ranni being unshakeable even as he lost his mind due to the Fingers' influence, lending credence to the dead Black Knives around him being under the Fingers's order, given by that point the Fingers had already sent the Baleful Shadow to kill Ranni. Iji comments that with Ranni gone on her jouney, it's only a matter of time until he joins Blaidd, and hopes his friend can forgive his doubt.

Reloading after that conversation results in the player finding Iji's body, smoldering with black-and-white flame, with dead Black Knives strewn about similar to finding the maddened Blaidd.

I also went and got the Black Knife Tiche ashes from Alecto, and their description more or less tells us what we already knew. Tiche was one of the Black Knives that inscribed the Death Rune on her dagger and participated in Godwyn's assassination, but was killed covering her mother Alecto's escape from the capital.

I think it's safe to assume that the Black Knives are covert servants of the Two Fingers, bearing no allegiance to any of the demigods. The biggest question I have now is why Iji is marked with black-and-white flame, that of the Godslayer variety, rather than the red-and-black we've seen the Baleful Shadow and Black Knives use. It would suggest some kind of cooperation between the Black Knives, and by extension the Fingers, and the Godskin Cultists.

The Godskins working with the Fingers is also supported by a Godskin Noble guarding the Divine Tower of Liurnia, where Ranni's original body and her half of the Cursemark are hidden, and a Godskin Apostle protecting the Godslayer Blade in the basement of the sealed off Divine Tower of Caelid.

The description of the Godslayer Blade states that the Godskins serve the "Dusk-Eyed Queen", who was sealed away by Maliketh. The same Maliketh from whom the Death Rune was stolen, and granted the god-killing flame to the Black Knives.

I feel there is sufficient evidence to say:

The Black Knife Assassins are servants of the Two Fingers

The Night of Black Knives was a cover up to foil Ranni's plot to gain the Cursemark of Death

Godwyn's transformation into the Princevof Death was an unintended side effect

My new theory is that the Rune of Death that Maliketh holds was taken from the Dusk-Eyed Queen, and the Godslayer cult begrudgingly serves the Fingers so they can continue to harness the power of the black flame.

[rosesloveletters]

Simplicity.

pairing: Heath Ledger Joker x Reader

word count: 1,336

warnings: language, violence (mentions of blood) and some sexual themes.

summary: short sentence prompts revolving around reader’s relationship with J. 

notes: Hello! I wanted to share something different with you all this time, so I chose a prompt I have not done in a very long time. I used a random word generator to generate 50 words and I would write one or several sentences including and/or inspired by each individual word. If you would like to try out this prompt, visit this link for the random word generator I used. Please enjoy this fun little prompt I fulfilled with J in mind. 

unedited.

Quit

“I think I’m starting to get pretty good at this ‘committing heinous crimes and random acts of violence’ thing, aren’t I?” “uh-huh.” You fix him with a look of disbelief, to which J’s only response is, “don’t,ah, quit your day job, toots.”

Anger

The anger you feel doesn’t hold a torch to the rage within J every time that you disobey him.

Distance

The nights when you fall asleep next to J are the ones which make you feel miles apart.

Braid

You tentatively clutch the braided rope in your hands, wondering how long had it been beneath your bed and why J had hidden it there.

Steep

Being in a relationship with J is like trying to climb a mountain that is too steep for you to find any generous footing; if you cling too tightly, the surface gives way and you slide all the way back to rock bottom.

Quota

Guns are too quick, J reflects, but he’s got a quota to hit and so he reloads without another thought on the matter.

Bet

You would’ve bet that J would eventually have to sleep, but never would you have thought it would take this long.

Crystal

“No more blood on my sheets that isn’t mine or yours, J, do I make myself clear?”

“Mm…crystal.”

Hot

Blood oozes from the open cuts which litter your skin like tiny scratch marks and you wince in discomfort; nothing a hot bath, or tongue, can’t fix.

Moving

Imagining a life with J means taking into account the amount of times you’ll have to move to remain one step ahead of the Gotham Police Department.

Biscuit

J trying to stuff several biscuits into his mouth at once inspires you to make a mental note never to bake him any ever again.

Nonsense

You could not make heads or tails of some of the things J tells you and you wonder if perhaps it really isall nonsenseand there’s no ultimate meaning behind any of it at all.

Scene

Most days, you refuse to turn on your television for fear of another crime scene making its way onto your screen; you always know who’s to blame.

Bubble

The color of blood has always been J’s favorite and he has to concentrate not to smile fondly as the warm, sticky liquid bubble’s from his victim’s throat.

Possibility

When you were younger and more naïve, you used to believe in life’s endless possibilities, however, life on the run with Gotham’s most wanted criminal only has one viable outcome.

Basket

You follow the trail of dark red droplets all the way to your bedroom and the sight that meets you is enough to make you drop the basket of clean clothes you were carrying.

Literacy

J often leaves notes behind on the little doodles he scatters throughout your home. The first one you ever kept was written after he begrudgingly watched a nature documentary with you, inspiring him to leave a drawing and a note scrawled across the margins of the morning newspaper: ‘I hate bees’.

Step

To step up against J was to end your own life; even though you are still breathing, today is the day that you have officially died.

Distort

Your relationship with him was about as distorted as J’s grip on reality, but that was what made you love him the most.

Brown

J’s brown eyes contain the only bit of humanity within him.

Light

J’s face is illuminated by the flames, his stark white face paint glowing a pale orange by cause of the dying embers, and the sight makes you wonder what elsehe is keeping from you?

Beat

Should anyone lift a finger against you, J would not hesitate to deliver a beating they might never recover from.

Commitment

Much to your chagrin, the only thing that J is committed to is his work.

Patience

It might take some time for you to warm up to the idea of sharing a house (and a bed) with Gotham’s most notorious criminal, but J knows he can wait you out.

Shower

It’s the first time he’s had a shower in weeks and J’s expression remains indifferent as the water visibly grows darkin color from the grime that rinses off his body.

Preference

It is true that J has no preferences when it comes to who he is sleeping with, but he would be damned if you didn’t check all the boxes he would have had if he’d been anyone else.

Fool

Perhaps it was foolish of you to think that J could muster emotion of any depth in association to you.

Knock

You could have lived with polite knocking, but whenever J returns home it sounds like he’s about to break the door down.

Curl

J’s body encircles you, curling protectively around yours as you embrace each other in the pale lamplight.

Protection

Under J’s protection, you throw caution to the wind and allow him to do what he does best; you would never have daredto walk the streets of Gotham by night, yet now you travelled them carelessly under cover of darkness beneath the ever-watchful eye of your ever-present bodyguard.

Sow

“Ever since you came into my life, I’ve had nothing but bad days!” “Ya…reap what ya sow, huh, doll?”

Key

You gave J a key, but he somehow manages to get inside your house without ever using it.

Film

J doesn’t ever utter the ‘I love you’ words, but without fail does he watch every film you’ve ever picked even if it does not interest him; actions speak louder than words and in this case, you never would have needed him to say a word.

Digital

You really would’ve liked to know why J had such strong opinions about digital clocks.

Short

The first time J snaps at you for coming a bit too close when he’s in a foul mood shows you just how short of a fuse he has.

Second

A second’s glimpse gave you the impression that there is more beneath the surface of J’s hardened exterior.

View

“Quite a plea-sing view, ain’t it, doll?” J asks as you both admire the burning building.

Depression

You never see the side of J that is tender except on the days when it all becomes too much and you physically cannot get out of bed.

Check

Ever since J had come into your life, you have not felt the need to check underneath your bed and inside your closet before climbing into your bed.

Shelf

J intentionally puts everything you need on a high shelf and won’t ever retrieve it for you when you ask.

Switch

A switch to the other side gave you a taste of sweet adrenaline and you finally understood why J loved the chaos.

Trap

Every word you utter becomes another bar in the cage he traps you in and throws away the key; you cannot win an argument with J.

Damn

That damned clown is going to kill you, either out of love born from you’re your own misguided emotional ties to him or with a gun to the head in the middle of the night; you did not care which.

Relinquish

J will never relinquish control even if his life depends on it and, sometimes, it does.

Delete

You wish that removing emotions is as easy as pressing ‘delete’ on your keyboard, but nothing in life is that easy and J is determined to teach you that.

Incentive

Watching you undress in front of him was morethan enough of an incentive to keep J in line for now.

Swallow

“It ain’t polite to play with your food, sweets,” J growls, a smirk of superiority on his face as he watches you finally swallow your mouthful.

Relief

You are unable to express the amount of relief you feel on the night J returns from yet another unexplained period of extended absence.

Front

He puts up a good front, but you are aware of how much it bothers J every time they call him ‘crazy’.

Adventure

Sharing a life with J is a daily adventure and you never know what direction it will lead.

[kimnjss]

Hi can you do a gamer boyfriend Jungkook cockwarming? Thank you 💓💓💓

pairing: jungkook x reader // rating: explicit // warnings: cock warming // 

“and then a lion showed up and wrestled the dragon, but then they both decided to be friends and shared a tuna fish sandwich,” you're speaking from the spot between your boyfriend's legs, the glee turned up in your voice as you look up at him. waiting to hear his reaction to the outrageous addition to your story about your trip to the mall.

he doesn't react. not even a twitch of the brow. no, his attention is fully saved for the stupid game that he has been trying to beat for the past two hours. and the slew of curse words he spat through the headset at his friends. he feels your stare though, eyes flickering down for one a second.

“that's crazy, baby. and what did you say?” jungkook says uninterested, forcing a roll of your eyes. “ugh, nevermind.” the dramatic way you pull his arms from around you, does nothing to catch his attention. he's just shifting into a more comfortable position, shouting into his mic at his friends.

he was so fucking annoying. with his stupid friends and his stupid game. and his stupid inability to see that, hello! you'd like a bit of attention. only rubbing against his crotch five times since you've shown up. what a stupid stupid boy, with stupid hair and a stupid cute smile.

with those dumb dimples of his that he knew you had a soft spot for. how adorable they looked paired with that sexy smirk of his. the smirk that he's usually showing off whenever he was nose deep in your crotch, seconds from getting you to cream all over his fingers. he always knew exactly what to do to get your toes curling.

and the things that the boy could do with tongue. oh, god.. he was talented when he wasn't wasting it cussing his friends out over a three point difference, like come on! not to mention the way he was able to fuck you, he really knew how to move his hips. how nice it would be to be underneath him right now... or on top, or beside.

literally any position that didn't involve a controller blocking you from the goods. it was nearly impossible to steal his attention with that thing in his hands, you had been sat right in his lap and nothing! ooh, but unless...

you're stripping out of jungkook's shirt before you can think twice about it. tossing it aside along with the thin cotton panties, laid in a crumpled ball at the foot of his bed. with a quick peak into the mirror, you're tying your hair – sure to keep anything from blocking his vision.

stepping out his room, you begin your confident strut back into the living room. he's in the middle of ripping into taehyung for not reloading in time or something. this cute angry pout on his lips, arms flexing as he tugs at his hair. his large hand moving down his bare chest as his eyes flicker to you.

jaw dropping as his big eyes go even bigger, “oh, shit.” he groans, eyes trailing over the outline of your body. and from the annoyed chatter you can just barely hear from his headset, it's safe to say you've distracted him. he watches every step you take over to him, arms opening as you lower yourself onto his lap.

“how's your game, baby?” fingers carding through his soft hair, pushing it away from his ear so you're able to press your lips against the shell of it. he's groaning at the soft touch, eyes fluttering while his hands drop from your waist. his hand closing around your ass, using his grip to pull you closer to him.

with your legs on either side of his hips, you feel the nudge of his growing bulge perfectly against your clit and you're grinding down without hesitation, a breathy moan hitting his skin. “should we go upstairs?” his words are being mumbled over the persistent shout from his friends through his ear piece.

and you're quickly shaking your head, letting out a soft laugh. “keep playing. isn't this game so important?” he can tell just from your tone what game you're playing, didn't even have to take a look at the sinister smile playing on your lips. the tips of your fingers trailing down the warm skin of his stomach, landing on the buttons of his pants.

“okay, baby. i get it. i should've paid attention to you. now please, let me make up for it...” his hand travels up toward your chest, full intention on tweaking your nipples until they're becoming solid peaks, but you're shooing his hands away before he can get a good grip. “keep playing, kookie.”

so sure that you'd be sliding right off his lap and into his room without so much as a look back. he's dropping both of his hands back onto the controller, begrudgingly telling his friends he's back before he's moving his thumbs over the buttons. and you tilt your head to press warm kisses against the skin of his neck.

he tries to concentrate on his game as the tips of your fingers fiddle with the buttons of his jeans, grinning against his skin when you're popping it open. the flinch of his hips is automatic the moment your soft hand is wrapping around his hardening shaft. he bites back a groan as your grip glides up, thumb rubbing against the head.

it's easy to maneuver yourself further on his lap, lining his tip with your dripping core. his wide eyes are instantly finding you, a hand moving to grip your hip. “you're gonna fuck me? and i can't...” he's letting out a gasp while carefully using his grip to lower you onto his lap.

“i'm not gonna fuck you.. j-just gonna see ho-ow long it takes you... to fuck me,” voice strained, you hold back the moans that fight their way up your throat. the stretch of his cock inside of you has your body buzzing. all you want is to rut against him, but this way was a lot more fun.

you've lit the competitive fire in your boyfriend, obvious with the cocky look that has taken over his features. “are you really challenging me right now?” he shifts underneath you, causing his dick to brush against your walls. so sudden, you can't hold back the moan that falls from your lips. he's letting out a laugh. “oh, this is gonna be fun,”

both arms lift to wrap around his neck, bare chest pressed against his as your lips brush against the shell of his ear. walls clenching around his shaft and he's letting out a gasped, “oh, fuck.” his body curling forward as much as it can, which has him pushing deeper inside of you.

he's letting out another groan and you're laughing, hand reaching down to steady the twitch of his hips. eyes finding his, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. your walls squeezing once more catching the way his brow furrows, jaw dropping. and you're letting out a laugh, “looks like you're gonna be easier then i thought,”

[ezrisdax-archive]

krantt

for #trilogyappreciationweek, with thanks to @wlwkiranerys and @rannochs for being my sound board.

The one where Wrex doesn’t adopt Tali (except he kinda does) also here on ao3

~~

Everyone on the Normandy was young to Wrex. The thing about being a Krogan was that it gave you a different perspective on age. Excluding the Asari, all species burnt out bright and quick to him. But even Liara was just a kid to him, not even 200 yet. 

From what he knew about Quarians however Tali was young to them too. He'd met a few Quarians on pilgrimages before; their version of the Rite of Passage from what he gathered. Except with less Thrasher maws.

Well there was one on the planet they'd gotten a distress beacon from. That probably counted. 

But unlike the Rite of Passage you did it alone; not a krantt to rely on like Krogans had. Seemed lonely.

So Wrex may have decided somewhere after that mission to keep an eye on the young Quarian. She wasn't so bad. Understood all his grumbling about the Council and the bullshit they put his species through.

 Though at least his species hadn't released an intelligent robot race onto the galaxy that now worshipped some old machine.

Still Tali was okay. 

She just had to remain alive to be okay.

Wrex sighed as he watched her clean her shotgun. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, scratching lightly with his gloves. 

"Where'd you learn how to fire that anyway?" He asked.

Tali jumped at his voice, the light in her helmet that indicated she was talking lit up when she yelped. 

"Wrex! Don't sneak up on me!" Tali scolded but then her shoulders fell like she expected a scolding of her own. 

Wrex merely stared.

"I..." Tali began, her nervousness coming through her tone even without facial expressions to go off on. "My father taught me. He's an Admiral." There was a touch of reverence and regret in her voice. "As his daughter I was expected to learn. Our ship could have been boarded by Geth at any moment."

Wrex hummed, loudly enough it echoed in the quiet cargo bay. Thankfully it was late enough most of the crew was asleep. 

"Makes sense." He inclined his head a little in acknowledgement. "Guess the Quarians would have reason to know all that." 

"We may not be the Krogan but we've seen our fair share of battles. You've seen me fight, I can handle myself." Tali practically bristled from where she sat, angry and petulant. Wrex wondered idly how many times she'd been forced to prove herself to others that it was this touchy a subject.

"Didn't say you couldn't. Could use a few tricks though."

Tali paused, caught off guard. "Oh? Like what?" If she was trying to aim for casual she failed. The curiosity shone through and her leg bounced like she could hardly contain herself.

Wrex huffed in amusement and then pulled out his own shotgun.

 "Lemme show you." He said and aimed at Garrus' locker. The shot fired and he reloaded with ease, firing off another shot a second later.

Tali was up in an instant, "How did you reload so fast?" She asked in one breath, the words blending together.

Wrex chuckled, "Old trick I learned. Here, watch the wrist, keep an eye on my right finger." 

"I'm not sure Garrus would like us using his locker for practice." Tali said even as she inched closer to do what he'd asked.

"Oh no an upset Turian. I'm real broken up about that." Wrex's voice was as dry as ever and Tali snorted in amusement. "Now come on, I don't got all night."

 Tali stepped closer still and watched carefully as Wrex did the trick over again.

~~

 "Does anyone know what happened to my locker?" Garrus asked the next morning and Tali choked on her drink. 

She'd procured straws from somewhere though Wrex wasn't sure where.

"No idea." Tali said a moment after, clearing her throat.

"Maybe someone got tired of elevator conversations." Wrex suggested, leaning back in his chair with a toothy grin.

"Point taken." Garrus grumbled, "You could have just said so. Now I'll have to spend the morning replacing my locker door."

"I'll help." Tali offered and she sounded guilty. She was fidgeting again in her seat, a telling trait. 

Garrus stared at Wrex who just stared back, the grin still on his face. 

“Fine. Thanks Tali. I suppose that’s about all I can ask for.” Garrus was still looking at Wrex.

He rolled his eyes. “Look Garrus, you want a favour come right out and ask it.”

Garrus made an indignant noise. “I don’t think it’s a favour if I’m asking for help to fix something you wrecked.”

“Allegedly.” Wrex said and shifted in his seat just a little so his shotgun was in view.

Garrus took the warning and fled, muttering about Krogan as he did.

“Is that how Krogan always end a conversation? Showing off a shotgun?” Tali asked. 

“Nah, usually there’s more bloodshed.”

“And it’s not even noon.”

 “Give it time.”

 ~~

Tali was back in the cargo bay that night and while she’d set up one of the targets that was officially there for practicing she wasn’t firing at it but struggling with the reloading trick Wrex had been showing her.

“Any luck?”

Tali jumped at the sound of his voice again and turned to face him. “You know for someone so large you’re very light on your feet.”

“Large?” Wrex shot back, “Something you want to say to me, Quarian?”

“No.” Tali said quickly. “Um, just, you know. You are a Krogan and I haven’t met many but they are all large and-”

“Relax, kid.” Wrex cut off her rambling before it went on too long. “I knew what you meant.”

“Oh.” Tali sighed with relief and then her shoulders shot back up. “I’m not a kid you know.”

“Everyone’s a kid to me on here.” Wrex waved off her concern. “When you live as long as I have it happens.”

“Ah.” Tali said. “I suppose that would happen. I can’t imagine living for hundreds of years, you must be old to the Krogan though.”

“First I’m large, now I’m old?” Wrex snorted. “You sure know how to flatter someone.”

He couldn’t see it but he was willing to bet under his mask Tali was cringing.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep anyway?” Wrex asked. 

Tali shifted on her feet, “I can’t. It’s too quiet. Quarian ships are rather full, here it’s…” She trailed off but the fact that nothing could be heard around them, not even the hum of the engines, told Wrex everything.

Suddenly the ship felt empty and, he was sure from Tali’s perspective, lonely.

Wrex sighed, the weight of responsibility falling on him.

 “You know I’m not the oldest Krogan by a long shot.” Wrex finally said, sitting down on one of the crates next to them. “There’s this ancient guy, Drack. Comes from Clan Nakmor, they’re not as big as Clan Urdnot of course but there’s a lot of them. Somehow this guy survived the Krogan Rebellions.”

“Really?” Tali asked, taking the seat next to him and crossing her legs and setting her shotgun down next to her. “I didn’t think any Krogan had survived since then.”

“There’s a few still around, some of us are just hard to kill.”

“Like you?”

“Anything that can kill me deserves it. If it can get to me first.”

 “But there’s so much of you to shoot.” Tali said and her voice was teasing.

“Is this how Quarian’s live as long as they do? By being so small nothing can hit them?” Wrex asked drily.

“Hey!”

“Course one lucky shot and you’re gone. Lacking redundant systems must suck. That guy, Drack, had most of his replaced. Pretty sure he’s only still alive because Kesh would kill him otherwise.” Wrex had met Kesh a few times, once thought of her as the runt of a litter like most had. Then she’d punched him in the face and stolen his equipment from his camp. That was the thing about underestimating people, they could always surprise you. 

Wrex glanced over at Tali who was swaying a little where she sat, clearly tired.

“That and he had his krantt back in the Krogan rebellions.”

 “What’s a krantt?” Tali asked and then yawned loud enough Wrex could hear her jaw crack even through the helmet.

“Hard to explain it to outsiders.” Wrex admitted, grumbling a little that he felt the need to even explain it. “They’re your allies, ones you can rely on even more than family. They’ll be there to watch your back, like in the Rite of Passage.”

His krantt had died when his father betrayed him and had them all murdered before him. Wrex got his revenge but the wound was still there.

“So like Shepard.” Tali said sleepily, her helmet knocked against Wrex’s shoulders. “And you and the squad.”

“Not the same.” Wrex replied, shifting a little and if that was more comfortable to Tali to rest against him that was no one’s business but his own. “Though maybe Shepard might count.”

Wrex was coming around to her.

“Guess the rest of you aren’t so bad for aliens.” He admitted begrudgingly after the silence dwelled on them for too long.

Tali was out however, a soft hiss from her filter filled the air every time she breathed out.

“Some of you could get better aim though.” Wrex continued on in the dark of the cargo bay, letting his voice take up the empty space. “Don’t know how you lived this long. Not that us Krogan can talk with the genophage running around. Nothing left on Tuchanka even worth saving…”

 ~~

 “Your ancestors wore that?” Tali asked in disbelief, staring at the armor Shepard had recovered for Wrex. He couldn’t see it but was willing to bet her face was scrunched up in disgust.

“I don’t think a Quarian is allowed to give me advice on a suit.” Wrex deadpanned, moving the armor to sit at his feet.

They’d had another session of training, Tali was really coming along with the reloading trick.

Then she’d asked him about the mission he went on that day with Shepard and Liara and he’d reluctantly pulled the armor out of the box he’d set it in.

“I think a Quarian is probably the best option for that.” Tali shot back. “We do spend our lives in them after all. It doesn’t hurt to make them look good.”

“Then what happened to yours?” Wrex asked and tried not to laugh as Tali turned her head at him in what was certainly a glare.

“I have a shotgun.” Tali warned him.

“Try that excuse on the Turian, not on me.” Wrex said and let out another booming laugh.

“You’re right,” Tali said, her voice too chipper to be real, “I’d never make it past all your layers with one shot.”

Wrex broke out in a loud laugh. “You’ve got quads, Quarian.”

“I have a name.” Tali said, all hints of laughter chased from her tone.

“Yeah yeah, not bad.” He paused and inclined his head. “Tali.”

The pleased smug smile she was wearing was obvious even if it couldn’t be seen.

“Too bad you still need to practice your shots.” He couldn’t help but add.

Tali huffed and grabbed her gun and without hesitation fired it at the training dummy. She flicked her wrist and reloaded with the shell she had in her hand already and fired again in only seconds.

Wrex watched with something that might have even been pride.

~~

“What was that?” Tali asked, her voice a little high pitched as the noises continued around them like nothing they’d ever heard before.

Noveria was not a place Wrex had ever cared to visit and he doubted he’d have any better memories of it now.

“Probably debris.” He said, his eyes darting everywhere trying to find the cause of it. “Don’t have a panic attack, I’ll protect you.”

The swarmers came out from nowhere under their feet and Shepard cursed.

Wrex fired his shotgun though it might have been easier to just squish the bugs under his feet rather than fire at them.

“Keelah,” Tali swore as they encroached further towards her. She scrambled back and nearly fell but Wrex shot out an arm to grab and steady her.

“It’s not over yet.” Wrex yelled and fired off another shot as the swarmers came closer.

“I’m going to have nightmares from this.” Tali muttered, Wrex only just close enough to hear it.

“At least you’ll live through it to have them.” Wrex said and kicked a swarmer that came close. It went flying and splattered against the walls.

Next to him he heard Tali reload and fire her shotgun over and over again.

~~

Tali was fiddling with something on her omnitool when Wrex arrived that week, this time when he called her name she didn’t jump but looked up and nodded her head at him.

“Wrex.” She said, “Sorry but I’m a little busy tonight.”

Wrex shrugged. “No skin off my back, this have something to do with the data Shepard got?” He nodded at the omnitool in Tali’s hand.

Ever since she and Kaidan had come back from a mission on geth intel she’d been invested in it. Hadn’t even come up to eat with the group.

“I’m planning on taking this back to the fleet to complete my pilgrimage – when this is all over of course.” Tali said, so fast Wrex could barely make it out. Her leg was bouncing in her excitement again. “This data could help us plan against the geth! I’m trying to get a headstart into deciphering it.”

“Not bad for an Admiral’s daughter, bet he’d be proud.” Unlike his father.

Wrex never was the conventional enough Krogan for him.

Because they’d spent so many months fighting side by side Wrex had gotten good at telling Tali’s body language even if he couldn’t see her face. So he could tell it’d fallen a little at that remark.

“I hope he is.” Tali said wistfully. “I was worried about going back to the fleet with nothing much to show.”

“And now you’ll show you helped stopped an invasion and picked up some random data along the way.” Wrex sat down next to her and groaned like it was an annoyance to him. He stretched out, his foot nudging Tali’s. “Bet other Quarians can’t say the same.”

“No.” Tali brightened, her back straightening. “They can’t.”

Wrex grunted and fell back. “Wake me up when you decide it’s time to do something practical like shoot at something though.”

“This is practical!” Tali said hotly, “You saw how far the Geth have advanced, with this data we could see if there’s a pattern to where they’re coming out of the Veil and-”

Wrex let Tali’s words wash over him and shut his eyes.

~~

They lost Kaidan on Virmire and everyone was a little more withdrawn, a little angrier, and more than a little ready to end it.

“I’ve lost friends before,” Tali admitted that night. “But not like this.”

Wrex didn’t say anything. Keeping quiet even as Tali curled up at his side with the hiss of her filter staticky in her held back sobs filling the air.

Krantt weren’t supposed to die like that.

Good thing his fellow squad members weren’t krantt.

It helped him sleep that night for what little he did get.

~~

He was never one for emotional goodbyes or just goodbyes period.

Which is why when Wrex left the Normandy he did it by only telling Shepard and leaving one thing behind.

Shotguns were nice and all but if he was about to try to sit in a room and make peace with a bunch of clan idiots then it wouldn’t do him any good.

Tali would put it to better use.

~~

It took two years before he saw someone from the Normandy’s crew again but Shepard was standing right there on Tuchanka.

He clasped her arm and squeezed, trying to convey his relief at seeing Shepard again.

To Shepard’s right he heard a cough and looked over to see Tali.

“Good to see you too, Wrex.” Tali said and Wrex squinted at her. She looked roughly the same, maybe a little taller and bigger. Her suit had changed a little, looked fancier from what he could tell.

The shotgun at her hip was more than little familiar to him.

“Shepard got you caught up in her mess again, hunh?”

“Had to pick Tali up from a planet, she needed a little help.” Shepard said and grinned at the both of them.

“Always getting into trouble.” Wrex intoned.

“At least I’m getting out.” Tali said, crossing her arms. “You seemed to have gotten even bigger just sitting on your throne.”

The throne in question stung a little for Wrex. He hadn’t really wanted it, symbolically or literally. His brother put together the stones to shape that way more as a mockery and bitter anger he hadn’t gotten the title or respect Wrex had.

He grunted and Tali must have noticed she struck a nerve because she uncrossed her arms and fidgeted in the same way she used to back on the Normandy when she was feeling guilty.

Before she could say anything he slapped her on the back, making her yelp and almost stumble over her own feet. He placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her and Tali whipped her head to glare at him from under her helmet.

He laughed, unable to help himself. “Don’t be jealous just because I have somewhere to sit on my homeworld.”

Apparently two years weren’t long enough to stop him from remembering the old Normandy crew’s quirks because Wrex could tell she was rolling her eyes at him.

It seemed Tali had gotten tougher skin in the intervening years.

At least she was still standing.

“So,” Wrex said and dropped his arm away from Tali’s shoulder to take a seat back on his throne. “What brings you here?”

Shepard stepped forward and gestured at Grunt and Wrex leaned in to see what was wrong.

~~

Word traveled fast and before Shepard had even made it off the battlegrounds Wrex had heard about the fallen Thresher maw.

Granting Grunt a title in Clan Urdnot was easier after that. Though Wrex would have been lying if he’d said he wouldn’t have given Shepard and Tali a title too if they asked.

Shepard wandered off, chasing after Grunt who had decided to challenge some Krogans standing near a pit, leaving Tali alone with him.

“So that was your Pilgrimage?” Tali asked, “I’m amazed any of you make it into adulthood.”

“Right,” Wrex said drily, “Nothing like sending our young out into the galaxy without a credit to their name and just hoping they make it back.”

Tali tilted her head, a silent acknowledgment.

“You taking care of that thing?” He nodded at the shotgun at her hip.

“Yes.” She paused. “Thank you, by the way. It would have been nicer to thank you in person however.”

Wrex shrugged. “I was getting rid of it anyway.”

“Uh hunh.” Tali said, her tone one of disbelief.

“Surprised you joined the whelp there in his Rite of Passage.” Wrex glanced over at Grunt and then back at Tali. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of deal.”

“Well.” Tali shifted on her feet, looking away. “I remembered something an old Krogan told me about krantts and the importance of them in the Rite.”

Wrex blinked in surprise.

“Hm.” He leaned back in the throne. “Not bad for a Quarian.”

“Tali, come on!” Shepard called out to her and Tali straightened up at her name.

“See you later, Wrex. Take care of yourself. Though I suppose that’s easier to do if you’re doing nothing but sitting.” Her tone was cheerful as she said it.

“Don’t forget who taught you those tricks of yours.” Wrex said, there was no real hint of warning in his voice- if anything it was jovial.

Tali nodded at him and walked off.

Wrex sunk into his chair, taking the next datapad he needed to look at about Clan Weyloc with him. It seemed like Tali wasn’t so young anymore.

Two years could make a lot of differences to species who didn’t live that long.

Wrex wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

~~

“You heard from Tali?” Wrex asked Liara one day when they were sitting in the lounge. He’d pulled her away from those screens of hers, the tightness in her eyes worried him a little.

Everyone else was back on board except for Tali and Ashley but Ashley he at least had heard about. She’d recovered from her injuries and even had a Spectre status to her name. Tali though no one seemed to know anything about.

“Our last interaction was months ago.” Liara said. She dragged a hand over her face and Wrex pretended not to see the wetness on her fingers as she pulled it away. “I’ve heard very little from Quarian space. It seems they’ve just gone silent.”

His grasp around his cup tightened, the glass crinkling underneath his grip.

“I’m certain she’s fine however. I saw her when Shepard came to help me with the Shadow Broker. She was…broken up about her father still but didn’t let that interfere with the mission.”

“Her father?” Wrex asked, frowning.

“He died. Shepard says he woke up some of the Geth units that Tali had sent him. The Admiralty put her on trial for it.”

“Those idiots did what?” Wrex growled, slamming the glass on to the table. “Have they even met Tali? She’s the last person who would take chances with the geth.”

“That’s what Shepard said.” Liara replied, and when she looked up at him she was smiling. “I wouldn’t worry Wrex, Tali can take care of herself.”

“Who said anything about worry?” Wrex blustered but he knew Liara wasn’t buying it. “I just think there’s a whole lot of stupid in this world that needs to be taken care of.”

Liara hummed and let it slide, “From last I heard she’s working along with the Admiralty board.”

Wrex scoffed.

He understood it certainly, those were Tali’s people. She cared about them the same way he cared about the Krogan, probably more since she didn’t seem to hate half of them. Maybe the genophage hadn’t ravaged her people but the war with the Geth had. He was willing to bet she’d taken on more responsibility than was reasonable.

And no one was even with her to watch her back.

“So,” Liara tactfully changed the subject, “What will you do when the genophage is cured.”

Wrex grinned widely. “Finish kicking the Reaper’s ass for the rest of the galaxy.”

“How magnanimous of you.” Liara said, shaking her head but the smile she wore was genuine at least and the shadows in her eyes had receded however little it was.

“The Asari can thank us later.” Wrex took his drink back up and chugged it the rest of the way. There might have been some broken glass in there but it made little difference to him.

He put Tali out of mind for the time, he was sure they both had bigger issues to worry about.

~~

Only Shepard could get a clone that would try to take over her life.

In all honesty, Wrex had missed the chaos.

And being with the crew.

Kaidan was still a notable absence, especially whenever Ashley was standing next to Shepard and would just lean over like she was about to say something to someone and then realized they were no longer there. Old habits died hard even years later it seemed.

No one mentioned it.

Shepard opted to take Ashley and Brooks to the casino with her, leaving the rest of them to the apartment. EDI and Liara took to monitoring the channel in case Shepard needed anything, Vega had taken over the tv, Garrus and Joker were shooting jokes back and forth at each other about Turians and humans, and Javik was just standing creepily in the corner.

Wrex still didn’t know what to make of the Prothean. Shepard found the weirdest people to call squadmates.

“So I heard there’s a cure for your people.” Tali said as she took a seat next to him. Her glass was filled with something alcoholic with a straw stuck in it so she could drink it.

“And I heard you made nice with the Geth.” Wrex said, taking a gulp of his own drink.

“Who’d have thought we’d be here now.” Tali raised her glass in a toast and then took a sip.

“Probably Shepard.” Wrex grumbled though it wasn’t really critical. “She always did keep talking about making a difference.” And apparently Wrex had listened. He wasn’t sure what was worse.

At least taking a risk with her had panned out.

“You should visit Rannoch,” Tali said, “The Geth didn’t do upkeep much on the buildings they weren’t inhabiting, it might even feel like Tuchanka to you. Except greener.” Tali sounded proud and Wrex caught the twitch in her leg. This time like she was stopping herself from bouncing as she talked excitedly about her homeworld. “It’s all so new. Can I even call it new? It is technically old to us. Old like you are- wait you must have seen what it looked like before…” She shifted, looking up at him.

“I didn’t go much in Quarian space.” Wrex admitted. “Never had a reason to. Didn’t think I’d be around Quarians much.”

 He could hear the smirk in her voice. “And yet here you are.”

“Mistakes may have been made.” Wrex drawled and snorted when Tali tried to glare at him from under her helmet. “I’ll see if I can make my way out there. When all this is done. Who knows maybe the council will award us Rannoch. Then you’d have to fight us for it.” He grinned at Tali. “Good luck getting it back then.”

She was rolling her eyes, he knew it.

“We’d manage.” Tali said, sniffing indignantly. “We’re tougher than you think.”

“Yeah.” Wrex agreed, glancing over at her. “So it seems.”

“I mean. We took down a Reaper. Without using a Thresher maw even.”

Wrex threw his head back and laughed. “Only because I bet Quarian’s guard dogs would catch a cold if they went outside.”

“Speaking of dogs I heard Jack got herself a pet varren, I wonder how one of those would do on Rannoch…”

“Bad idea, kid.” Wrex said but leaned back to listen to Tali go on about it anyway.

~~

It’d been years since he’d seen Tali in a firefight. The ride down the elevator to the cargo bay had him glance over at her.

“You been practicing with that shotgun? Still remember the fast-reloading trick I showed you?” He asked.

Tali’s back straightened. “You know, I've taken care of myself for the past few years.”

Of that he had no doubt. She would have had to with everything going on the galaxy right then and even before it from what Wrex had heard of what happened to her father.

“I know. I'm old and I worry, even though my favourite Quarian's all grown up and killing Reapers.” He sighed. It wouldn’t hurt to admit that.

“You're like the crazy head butting uncle I never had.” Tali told him, a mixture of disbelief and amusement in her voice.

Whatever response he was going to have was lost when the doors opened and Shepard raced after her clone.

In the end he pulled both Tali and Shepard back up into the cargo bay before they fell to the Citadel streets below.

“Thanks, Wrex.” Shepard said, slightly out of breath. She stood up and pinged Joker on the comms.

Tali sat on the ground next to him, shaking a little.

He nudged her. 

“You okay?”

To his surprise Tali started laughing, falling onto the floor on her back and giggling.

“You ever think about how weird our lives are?” Tali asked between her laughter.

“All the time.” Wrex sighed. “I had it much easier before all of you.”

“Aw but Wrex.” Tali sat up and he was certain she was grinning. “Then you wouldn’t have met your favourite Quarian.”

Wrex rolled his eyes.

“Does that make Garrus your favourite Turian? And Liara your favourite Asari? I bet Shepard’s the favourite human, right? Can I tell them?” Tali asked, snickering.

He almost wished he could have said that she reminded him of the Tali he’d known years ago who was lighter and freer of responsibilities but even back then she bore a weight on her back. 

“No one would believe it.” He turned his head a little so Tali would miss his grin.

“I bet they would.” Tali said, leaning back on her hands. “You’re a little soft around us Wrex, I don’t think you’ve noticed it.”

“You take that back.” Wrex grumbled, looking back to frown at her.

“If it makes you feel better you’re my favourite Krogan.” Tali told him, matter of fact.

It did make him feel a little better, not that he was going to say it.

“Yeah yeah, head-butting uncle, I heard.”

“At least your hearing isn’t going in your old age then.”

~~

Wrex certainly proved the head-butting part later that week when Grunt challenged him at the party.

Laughter rang out all around them, the apartment alive as everyone who had once been a part of the Normandy crew shared stories.

Though some of them he’d never met they all shared the common bond of getting dragged into the craziest shit with Shepard.

Glancing around he noticed a certain Quarian was missing and heaved himself away from the balcony with a sigh. It didn’t take long to find Tali nearly passed out in the bathroom.

“I knew you were a lightweight.” Wrex said, looking down at Tali and huffing with a laugh.

“Wrex!” Tali yelled, too loud even over the blasting music.

“Think you can stand or you too out of it?” He asked, amused as Tali hiccuped.

“I am not too out of it.” Tali denied but still lay on the floor. “I am still looking for answers is all.”

“Answers?”

Tali nodded but then held a hand to her helmet like she regretted the movement a second later. “Shepard said the answers to my father are the bottom of the glass. I am still looking.”

Wrex rolled his eyes, “Shepard also thinks she could survive a head butting contest with a krogan. Come on,” He said and leaned down to drag Tali up right. 

“Do you think I made him proud? I am not certain he made me proud.” Tali rambled as Wrex started to drag her towards one of the many bedrooms. It wasn’t hard to guess she was still talking about her father. “I thought he had all the answers once; but they were just lies he told me.” Her voice was bitter and Wrex paused.

“Kid no one has all the answers and as for your dad, well. Parents are complicated. At least he didn’t try to kill you.”

“Oh.” Tali said, trailing out the word too long. “I suppose you have me there, Wrex.”

“Always nice to beat a Quarian at something.” Wrex kept moving then.

“Pfft, you don’t want to beat me, I am your favourite.”

“Really going to milk that one, hunh?”

Tali was beaming under her helmet, this close up he could just make out a grin. “It means a lot to me.”

Wrex made a few mock grumbling noises. “Don’t you people have the ability to flush out toxins or something.”

“I will!” Tali said brightly and then hung her head. “In a minute.”

Wrex got to the bed and dumped her on it. “There. Now you can also sleep it off.” Tali flopped around on the bed, making Wrex drag a hand over his face. “This is humiliating for the both of us, kid.”

“I’m not a kid!” Tali complained, her tone the near exact it had been three years ago in the cargo bay. “You even said I was all grown up! And and-” She swayed when she tried to sit up. “Killing Reapers!” She finished victoriously. 

Wrex chuckled and pushed her back down, “Yeah you are. I’m proud of you for it. You’re no Kalros but you can pack a punch with that bot of yours.”

“Chitika goes for the optics!” Tali said but it was slightly muffled by her turning her face into the bedsheets.

Wrex snorted when she began to do the wheezy breath with her filter that meant she was out again. 

“Your dad’s an idiot.” He told the sleeping Tali and then trudged back to the party.

~~

Tali wasn’t wrong. Rannoch was greener than Tuchanka but a lot of the land had been turned into Geth hubs that were now being dismantled to turn into homes.

Having them so near still creeped Wrex out with their flashlight heads, he wished for a moment Ashley was there to share in his commisery of it but she was still on Earth. After the last battle most of them had headed for their homeworlds while mourning the loss of Shepard. 

He’d spent a few months on Tuchanka overseeing building plans for expansion and watching the first of his children grow a little and then gotten the invitation from Tali to “see what a real planet looks like”. 

“If this is what qualifies as a real planet I’m not impressed.” Wrex intoned as Tali greeted him at the shuttle pad.

She stepped up to fling her arms around him and pulled him into a hug that he returned with a sigh.

“I’m surprised you made it off that scrap of rock you call one so quickly. I didn’t think you’d accept my invite for another year at least.” Tali stepped back and was fidgeting.

Her mask was off and Wrex squinted a little to view her face. He grunted lightly, “Thought you might be in trouble. Or in need of some good old fashioned Krogan strength to move things.”

Tali rolled her eyes, “This is just a friendly visit.” She said but was still shifting on her feet and wringing her hands. “I wanted to show you how far we’d come.”

Wrex tilted his head, trying to figure out what it was Tali was hiding. Without her mask it was easier to see her avert her eyes. “Well, I also thought I should see my krantt.” He finally said just to see her reaction.

Tali’s face shot up, her gaze meeting his and her mouth dropped in surprise. “I thought you didn’t have a krantt anymore.”

That’s what he’d thought too until three years ago. But he wasn’t about to lie to himself anymore. The Normandy crew would always be important to him.

Wrex just shrugged in response to her though.

Tali bounced on her feet and grinned up at him. “I see the end of the war really has made you soft.” She said, her voice sly. “How are raising babies?”

Wrex grunted. “Almost as annoying as watching over a baby Quarian.”

“Hey!” Tali reached out to whack his shoulder but just hurt her hand instead. She pulled it back with a pout. 

“But I’d be glad if they grew up as well as she did.” Wrex admitted a second after even as he laughed.

Her shoulders straightened at that and Tali stood a little taller. “Thanks. I’d hope my father would be able to say the same thing.” Her eyes darted away again at the comment and it clicked to Wrex.

He truly was getting old and soft because instead of dropping it he stepped closer to nudge Tali. “Guess I can be proud in his place then.”

Tali hesitated only a second before she smiled at him again. It was a little sad this time but the sincerity was there. “Come on old man, I’ll show you why we Quarians were once considered the best builders.”

“So long as it looks better than your suits.”

Tali whacked his arm again, a lesson not learnt the first time.

“You’re lucky I don’t have a shotgun right now.” She warned him.

“You couldn’t match me even with one.” Wrex said back but it had no bite. He dropped a hand to her shoulder and squeezed lightly.

She probably actually could though he’d never admit it.

After all, he’d taught her the best tricks in the books.