shadowfirecat

[shadowfirecat]

Who sent this khajiit back from the dead and let him dress himself, who allowed this?

(please continue, the armor looks fantastic on you)

[shadowfirecat]

Love Zerith-var being like "I thought people in the cities would look at me weird" like nah man this is the second era. That dudes wearing a neon yellow bathing towel and feathered cap at the alchemy station, that girl is riding around the wayshrine on a glowing horse with 4 arms holding swords, there's a skeleton talking to the banker named "Beam Me Mommy". This shit just happens. You having glowing blue eyes is par for the course honestly

[shadowfirecat]

[shadowfirecat]

imagine u lived in elder scrolls and your khajiit friend was like "ah, come and look upon khajiit's son, a fine warrior that one will be one day, yes?" and he just shows u this

[shadowfirecat]

"Mortarian is like 12-14 ft tall and if we're talking about after him being blessed by Nurgle he's like 30 ft tall? How does that work? Although my interest is piqued and I will read the rest later and they do know what they're talking about"

My husband(who loves warhammer)'s thoughts after I showed him the tags on your mortarian pregnancy fic.

I will follow up with his thoughts afterwards. I just really thought his reaction was funny

It's not about the logistics, we just work with the insanity in our brains XD

also the idea of people showing people they know my fics actually made me wither up inside oh my god

[shadowfirecat]

the funniest thing in d2 remains the drifter's unyielding insistence that you're doing something huge and forbidden that no one's ever done before by sniping someone every now and then in gambit while shaxx is right down the road making up new ways for a lightbearer to be drawn and quartered each week

[shadowfirecat]

shaxx has lived in my head for 8 slutty, slutty years

[shadowfirecat]

I love it when Destiny takes time to show the smaller moments of the universe.

Eido nerding out over preserving culture, people celebrating the Festival of the Lost, baking cookies when the temperature drops, Zavala knitting, Osiris and Saint being tender, random guardians and their friends that we might never get another lore entry on, guardians who we get a handful of lore entries for their shenanigans, conversations about beliefs between characters we know and love, and so, so much more.

In the face of tremendous loss and pain, there are always moments of unconquerable joy and love, even if they are brief. Love can be found in every tale, every crevice, and every event in Destiny despite despairing circumstances and it wins. Maybe not immediately, maybe long after the lovers have perished to their situations, but it always triumphs. It’s seeds always burst through an inhospitable soil to grow into the shade others will lay under, resting their heads upon a person they would propagate a whole forest for.

It is the small moments like finding unlikely companions, enjoying a deeply brewed tea, or collecting candy on holidays that keeps people fighting for the ability to experience such delights.

Destiny is about a universe of people who will choose to survive and endure no matter the cost. It is the assuring sight of different species of children playing in the streets of the Last City that people will suffer time and time again to protect. It is the thought that there will always be a precious experience in life awaiting in the future that makes people want to even keep the very POSSIBILITY of suffering.

Eris has saved the universe to bring justice to her fireteam, protect humanity, and save the ones she loves like Ikora, Mara, and Drifter. That is enough.

Misraaks has helped us in our endeavors to protect Sol for his people and Eido, to see them prosper and grow. That is enough.

Some guardians may fight just to bring in enough glimmer to enjoy a drink at a tavern. That is enough.

Some people right after the Collapse may have continued on because they didn’t know what else to do, they didn’t know why they had it in their spirit to continue on upon a charred Earth. That is enough.

These are all enough to warrant the continuation of a universe that allows for these possibilities. These are enough and more to fight for with bleeding callouses and busted knuckles.

It is moments so fleeting and small that leave such an impression on us that we will fight against odds so enduring and large. We fight for justice, for hope, for good food, for the smell of blossoms in Spring.

We will do it over and over again for it is our right to determine our fates, no matter the indifference we receive from the universe itself and no matter the wants of those who equate the small to be inconsequential.

[shadowfirecat]

there is something from echoes that haunts me. and its this

The Conductor claims, had Osiris not created the Sundial, had I remained forgotten, Sagira would live still.

that. i’m tapping the microphone. that was the beautiful recontextualisation of why saint was acting like he was, why he and osiris couldn’t simply talk through it. saint was not just questioning his existence but weighing the worth of his own life against not only sagira’s life, but osiris’s immortality, his strength, and in a way his joy. if that was true and sagira could have lived does that not then make saint the cause of osiris’s suffering under savathûn? of everyones? is he also responsible for the subsequent months osiris lost to a coma? to the outside observer, obviously not. but i think about this from season of the haunted:

saint was already blaming himself for that. maya’s suggestion was already in his head, she just needed to bring it up.

and there’s this from season of the hunt, too:

saint’s existence, to him, has always been a quiet source of guilt. what makes him any more worthy of cheating death than anyone else? what could his life have cost? in maya he had a confirmation that his life cost something, whether it was actually true or not. that he was led to believe he had caused the person he cares about the most to suffer a loss so personal, and one saint was personally incredibly aware of the fallout of… man. of course he withdrew. especially when more and more evidence pilled up that there was something wrong about him. and how could he possibly explain to osiris any of it, when the root of it was something that would just open old wounds?

saint’s emotions—his loyalty, his love—are truly both his greatest strengths and his greatest weaknesses. i love it.

[shadowfirecat]

"You feel real to me"

(For my Dragon Age fans, this composition is inspired by Blackwall's romance card :) )

[shadowfirecat]

If Bismarck was found by a guardian and brought back to the Tower:

(You are the reason he gets home and safe!!)

The young light that brought him up to the surface of nessus looked around, before looking up at the old hero. The man that stood tall beside them hummed, looking up towards the sun feeling the warmth he hasn't felt in ages.

Your ghost appeared between the two of you before looking up to the giant Titan "Bismarck? Right? We have heard of you from stories told by Saint-14, I'm sorry that we couldn't really introdu-" Your ghost was cut off by a booming laugh.

"Saint-14?! The Saint-14?!! I can't believe he's still alive!! Av resenären! (By the Traveler!) I hope he's doing well!" Bismarcks armor gleamed in the sunlight as he gleamed with joy under his helmet.

You chuckle as well pushing your ghost to get the ship, so all of you could leave and go home. "Saint is doing very well, he doesn't know you're coming back too so it'll be a surprise for him." You say as you see your ship land not to far away. "Time to get you home big guy"

Bismarck looks at you and nods "Thank you Young light, I would've been stuck down there killing vex if it were for you." He starts walking towards your ship "Now is this ship of your big enough for the both of us?"

(No it wasn't, he was squished in the the back of your ship the whole way)

The instant he was transmated out and onto the courtyard of the tower, everyone looked at him. He was in awe of the traveler, the very thing that gave him his gift not even noticing the stares he got from everyone. Just beside him you quietly tell your ghost to ping Geppetto for saint to get to the Courtyard quickly.

The footsteps and the voice that dragged him out of his daze made him look towards his (smol) brother in arms.

"Guardian what is it, what is the-" Saint stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the shine of Bismarcks battle damaged armor.

"Bismarck? Brother is that really you after all these years?" Saint stood there stunned to see him "Guardian where did you find him?"

You shrugged and smirked under your helmet walking up to saint "A little planet called Nessus, he was stuck in the deep caves dealing with vex"

Bismarck chuckled out loudly "Oh you are funny young light, the vex were hardly a problem! But Saint is that really how you greet an old Brother!? Pah! That isn't the saint I know! Come here you little slug!"

Saint was suddenly in a harsh hug filled with both his and Bismarcks laughter, giving you the time to sneak away and get Shaxx to see an old war buddy of his. Though when you get to him he is already watching the two loud titans, silently remembering the day he first met Bismarck.

"Guardian, this was- unexpected" Shaxx said to you, still watching the two Titans laugh and give spine breaking hugs to one another.

"I know I was only there for a patrol, but when I got a distress signal- I had to help. Though not knowing who the distress signal was from, I found my way down to the darkest place I have ever seen on nessus. Saint had told me, that when you needed Bismarck you only needed to look for the glowing hammer in his hands." You chuckle at the description Saint told you a while ago "He was there in the darkness being as bright as he is right now, go so hi. He might give you a death hug too."

"I uh- yes sure" Shaxx listened to your explanation and slowly moved to the Titans, that have been gaining everyone's attention on the courtyard.

Bismarck had saint in a playful headlock as they both laughed "You little lug nut! When did you become a legendary Titan the young light had to tell me these stories as I was stuck in the back of their ship!? Haha! I'm proud of you little brother!"

"Oh come on! I was only doing what I needed too! That young light inspired me to become what I am!" Saint replied with a quick move to get out of the headlock.

"They have taught you well then! You became an amazing Titan!" Bismarck replayed before seeing Shaxx and crossing his arms and becoming smug. "Herre (Lord) Shaxx what an honor to see you after our last tussle"

Shaxx rolled his eyes not believing Bismarck still remembered the fight they had before he left for nessus. "I wouldn't call a fight a tussle Bismarck-" he stood there quiet for a moment "But it's good to see you again, there is much for you to learn of what we've done here."

Bismarck chuckled softly and nodded "I am joking with you Shaxx, but yes I have much still to learn at my old age. This new city is what I still live for, and strive to fight for."

Saint and you are standing a little bit away smug as hell watching the two large ass Titans talk.

"Guardian, bet how long they go without noticing" Saint chuckled out

"Deal" you replied.

-----------------

I hope this helps to see a little what Bismarck is like, I don't know Swedish so Google translate was my friend in this. But I do ship him with Shaxx, but hopefully y'all are fine with that.

I also love the idea of the guardian and saint just making bets on how long the tension will last.

But the concept drawing of Bismarck might be done soon! I'll post it here asap once it's done!

[shadowfirecat]

Man, Crimson Days huh?

Don’t forget to celebrate them with your favorite people!

[shadowfirecat]

TFO The Primes [Artist credits Twitter: @velnar31]

[shadowfirecat]

I am very normal in how their backstory is "reversed" in the movie, veryyyy normal, absolutely sane

Separated scenes bellow

[shadowfirecat]

☀️ I love him your honour ☀️

That’s it thats the post I watched BoZ not too long ago and I’m already IN LOVE with him

[shadowfirecat]

i’ve always loved the idea of arthur and reader still sleeping cuddled up for years after leaving the gang bc they were so used to sleeping in a tiny cot 🥺

it’s funny how habits stick.

you wake up every morning practically laying on top of arthur, head on his chest and your arm and leg slung across him. his calloused hands rests on the curve of your neck and the drop of your waist, cradling you against him.

the open expanse of your bed is cold in the place where you had fallen asleep and the comforting sounds of his deep breathing coax you to drowse against him for a while. now that you could. now that arthur was all yours.

you can tell by the pace of his breathing that arthur is waking up. his strong chest rises quicker than before and draws in a powerful breath that releases in a deep sigh. you look up to see the light from your bedroom window setting his irises aglow.

as usual, as arthur has done for the past years you’ve been in love, he greets you good morning my running his thick fingers through the roots of your hair. you lean into his touch, practically purring, and pull yourself even closer to the warmth of his strong body.

his heart, beating strong and loud in his chest. he clears his throat and rolls you both onto your side so that he could face you.

“g’mornin darlin’.” he mutters to you, voice raspy.

___

VERY BRIEF BC I AM SOOOO BUSY BUT RAHHHHHHH

[shadowfirecat]

Those hands

Pairing: Arthur x Reader Summary: After a haunting experience, Arthur struggles seeing himself as anything but bad. You show him that there are other sides to him too. Warnings: Arthur self hate. Talk of violence (unnamed man, fate unclear). Hints at nsfw, but nothing happens. Words: 1,936 Notes: GN!Reader. Use of "you" for reader. Angst with comfort/fluff (starts off sad but has a happy end). Kind of body worship but in a wholesome way. Still trying to do accents but I might have forgotten sometimes. Don't wanna proofread. Kind of open end?

Another day gone by, the sun setting over the camp of mismatched outlaws. Thieves, murderers, all of them. Even the sweetest face or voice could hide deft fingers that would rob you of your gold, or your life. The neverending fire at the center crackled on, drowned out by chatter and song.

But it was the cool breeze that brought Arthur’s attention back to Earth and his body. The cuts and bruises from a day’s work littering his skin. By all means, he wasn’t often the one who got off worse in his encounters, yet even a punch would leave its mark on his knuckles.

He turned his hand, a sigh lingering in the column of his throat. Blood, though most of it wasn’t his. He hasn’t yet had the time to clean it off. No, more like he couldn’t bring himself to. There were somewhat clean rags everywhere, John had brought fresh water from the stream earlier that day and Arthur could just dunk the offending limbs in there until the color washed itself off.

But that would be too easy, no? Make him forget all too soon what he did to that man whom he beat up for a measly 10 dollars. The man who lost one or two teeth from every hit, begging, pleading for Arthur to stop. Nose bleeding as darkened blue eyes glared him down while his wife cried in the back. He didn’t even have enough to pay back the loan in the first place. Arthur should have stopped, should have been a better man. But he kept going until he had even the last scrap of clothes from their backs. And now the evidence stared back at him in muddled crimson and the images behind his eyes. Does he even deserve to wash his hands off after this? No matter how much he’d scrub, they would always be vile, coated by violence and apathy as they took life after life and ruined families. It was right under the skin, in his blood. This was who he was deep down. Terrible. Disgusting. “Arthur?” He hadn’t even noticed the shake in them until another color came into his view. Soft, warm as it shielded the sight of coppery regret from his misty eyes. Arthur looked up, and his stomach churned. There you were, looking at him with such worry and love that bile threatened to spill past his lips. He wanted to cut his hands off lest you touch them more, lest you realize why they looked like that. If you saw what he did, knew what those hands committed, you’d recoil like he did now. But your brows only furrowed as you inched closer, as if you couldn’t see what a monster he was. There were your hands again, encasing his, despite the grime and blood. Swallowing the lump in his throat, the man willed his eyes up to meet yours. “Shouldn’t touch me, darlin’. Gonna catch somethin’”, Arthur mumbled, not even convinced of his own words. But he didn’t want his crime on your hands as well. Those hands that stitched him up after bullet wounds and held his face so tenderly as if he wasn’t wanted in numerous states. And yet you only shook your head, the corners of your lips quirking up in amusement. “Catch what? Arthur, you're being silly again.” Taking a firmer grip, you urged him to stand, and he followed you without second thought. Thinking around you was always difficult anyway. One smile and Arthur wouldn’t know if he died during his last mission and it was you greeting him above the clouds. His large steps stumbled after your smaller ones, realizing too late where you two were headed. Two feet from the wash basin, Arthur’s legs locked up, and his hands clenched yours. “Darlin’... I don’t need no washin”, he tried to argue, plead almost. But the underlying meaning was lost on you as you simply laughed that divine sound at him. “I won’t dunk ya head like Grimshaw, Arthur, promise!” You reassured, angling your body further towards him and giving him a view of the barrel. “That’s not…” But you cut him off with an insistent tug, one thumb running over the back of his hand before tapping it twice. “Yer all bloody, mister. I reckon you DO need a wash here.” The little teasing in your retort wasn’t lost on him, and Arthur’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he let himself be lugged along. The water wasn’t as cold as anymore as it was this morning, yet the gunslinger flinched as if he touched ice. This time, it didn’t go unnoticed, and you halted your ministrations. “... Arthur?” You tried again. Softer this time, quieter. Only for him. It took a while before the man in question answered, clearly wrestling with his thoughts. But when he opened up, it was with the same guilt as if he was being shamed in court. “Hurt some feller today… Real bad.” He began, and it was at this moment he realized he didn’t even remember the man’s name anymore. Blues downcast, he avoided your gaze in case of judgement. As if you would bring the hammer down on him and condemn him to a lifetime of loneliness once more.

And yet, you only nodded out of his sight, gently lowering his hands into the basin once more. “Another loan?” Your voice matched his sober tone. His distaste for this kind of work came up a few times before for you two. It always ended with Arthur wanting more time for himself, away from everything and everyone. To overthink, surely, you figured. But this time, you wanted to be there for him, and properly.

The non-answer Arthur gave you told you everything you needed to know, eyes still not meeting yours. So you lowered your gaze as well, focusing on cleaning the worst off of his calloused hands. Once most of the stains were gone, your voice reached his ears again. “C’mon Arthur. Wanna show you somethin’.” Stealing Arthur away to his tent was easier than usual this time around. Javier strummed his guitar for the few onlookers around the fire, Kieran being surprisingly one of them. Hosea and Lenny were reading books together, seemingly talking about their respective plot points in a little huddle with Tilly and Mary Beth listening in. Dutch, for once, was busy as well, giving Molly the attention she deserved as Charles heaved a deer up onto the butcher’s table for dinner in the back. In short, practically everyone was busy - perfect for your little ‘love-on-Arthur’-plan.

Up on your tippy toes, you closed the old draped on Arthur’s tent as best as you could. You wanted privacy for this, even if it wasn’t that kind of night. “You showin’ me my tent?” Your man quipped behind you, a hint of amusement coming up from under his exhaustion from the day.

“Shush, you.” You waved your hand, unable to hide your half-smile as you ushered him onto his cot. He followed obediently, though one of his now clean hands ran down his face, smushing his tired expression.

“Don’t think I can-”

“We not gonna. Now hush, love.”

Arthur accepted you cutting him off with your cryptic replies, one eyebrow raised as you kneeled in front of him. Despite insisting he wasn’t in the mood, he couldn’t shake how you in this position made him feel. Breath caught in his throat, shifting, he never imagined what you would do instead though.

Lifting one of his bruised hands to your lips, a faint kiss was planted right over his knuckles. Then another, travelling sideways over each finger. Your eyes were closed while Arthur was sure his were about to bug out of his head, unable to form any coherent thought.

And then you spoke.

“Your hands are beautiful, Arthur.”

“No-”

“Yes.”

A frustrated groan as Arthur’s fingers twitched. Yet, you only smiled a little, your eyes much too soft and warm for his liking. Then, as if he never complained, you continued, kissing over his palm. “You might not like ‘em, but I can see what they can do.”

A cold chill ran up his spine, Arthur believing you would recount his many escapades in drunken violence. Not that you ever did, but what if this time, you would? See him for the monster he is, the monster he can never change being. Horrendous and made out of tainted blood not his own.

Your lips graced his thumb, and as your mouth opened again, Arthur forgot how to breathe.

“Y’always use this thumb to wipe my tears…” You whispered, almost reverent as you kissed from knuckle to tip, a shiver of Arthur accompanying the gesture. Moving on to his pointer finger, you murmured between kisses. “And this one, your trigger finger. Reliable, yeah, but also the one y’use to pick flowers.”

Arthur’s mind emptied, focused entirely on your show of love as you revealed your thoughts to him. Your true ones, not the ones he projects onto you in his own fear, but the ones from your loving heart that stayed with him for a year now.

Arriving at his middle finger, he huffed a chuckle at how he could feel your smile against his skin. “I know what you use this one for, Mr Morgan.” “Ain’t always vulgar, sweetheart.” He tried to joke back, feeling his heart soar at how you giggled in reply.

“That’s right. Because this here finger, it’s got that little callus on it from when ya hold your pen to draw.” Now that’s not what Arthur expected you to say, but you simply kissed the mark in question on the inside of said finger. The action and how you saw him almost made him miss the whisper you breathed at the next one in line.

“Maybe one day, Arthur…”

He wanted to ask you to elaborate, beg to tell him you really did want that ring on his and your finger. But you were already moving again, and Arthur’s hand could only twitch as his heartbeat thrummed in his ears.

“Remember what we use the pinky for, baby?” You smiled, intertwining both of your fingers together and waving them softly from side to side.

“Yer little promises, right?” Finding his voice again, Arthur fought to keep the cracks and wavering out of it. He was still shaken up, but in a good way now. A better way.

“Yeah. The one ya used to promise me to go huntin’ back out west. Remember…?” And remember he did. The first time you both went out together, though it was hardly a date. Arthur could never call it that, you deserved much better than hunting coyotes after Pearson burned the gang's last food. And yet it was one of your first outings together.

One of many firsts, just like right now.

Dragging your lips up to his palm, you promptly held it against your cheek, leaning into it. A pleased hum vibrated against his skin, and out of instinct he began to cradle you softly. “Your palm always holds me… And your hand holds mine.” You finished, gently putting his hand in yours.

Now looking up at him, Arthur could barely recall what happened today aside from this. “Darlin’…” He began, almost choking on the word, but you shut him up with another kiss to the back of his hand. As if he were some maiden and not… not…. “I love you Arthur. Your hands can do good, too.” And in this moment, Arthur fully believed you.