#you don’t understand what he means to me look at this feral cat of a clone and tell me how I’m not supposed to love him with my whole heart

[thememerman]

I went into this on Twitter but I’m gonna go into again bc I don’t have a character limit over here 🧚

THE SYMBOLISM OF CROSSHAIR LOSING HIS HELMET.

he’s had this helmet since Aftermath. It was one of our first introductions to Imperial Crosshair and the things he was willing to do (and was at first forced to do) to get ahead and be seen as someone important to a higher cause. It represented his loyalty *screams* to the empire and the new goals he had that ended up separating him from the Batch in the s1 finale.

and WHEN HE LOSES IT??? practically every trace of imperial Crosshair is gone too. he doesn’t care if Mayday is dead weight or not, he’s going to get him back to base or die trying. he doesn’t care about what the empire wants anymore. he doesn’t care about being a good soldier. he doesn’t care about orders. he’s more himself than he has been since the chip activated god only knows how long ago. he’s throwing everything to the wind because he cares, because he doesn’t want to be alone again, because he sees too much of the people he cares about *COUGHS* HUNTER AND CODY *COUGHS* in his brother and he can’t stand to lose him too. and then he does anyway. and Crosshair is so done and so broken that he’s literally willing to probably be executed for treason just to avenge Mayday’s death. he was ready to die right there on that godforsaken outpost and he’s not a commander anymore he’s barely even a soldier anymore it’s just. Crosshair. all alone. all over again

[flowercrowngods]

felt like letting mike and steve work through some shit again

cw: descriptions and imagery of them being lost and self-sacrificing, left alone with trauma they have no means to work through, could read as suicidal tendencies or intrusive thoughts

🤍 also on ao3

“What do you want?” Mike asks when Steve sits down beside him, gravel crunching, their feet dangling over the dark and endless abyss that is the quarry at night.

Steve doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t really know what to say now that he’s here, now that he found him. He looks so small, now more than ever, and it reminds Steve so painfully that he’s still just a child. He was always just a child, and children shouldn’t—

It feels like they got their rights at a childhood revoked years ago, and then they were just… supposed to be okay with it. It was expected, it was implied when nobody came to talk to them after.

When all they got was one NDA after another. When none of the professionally trained adults took one look at the children that they were, and asked, Are you okay? What do you need to be okay? I will talk to you once a week and make sure you learn how to be okay again.

Steve feels like a big brother to most of the kids now, sure, but he’s not their shrink, and he sucks when it comes to actually talking about shit. He can be there to drive them anywhere, can provide an evening of distractions and as much of a sanctuary as a house as haunted as his can be.

With everything else, though, he’s helplessly lost. So he says nothing, weighs his words to make sure they come out right — especially for Mike, who’s always just waiting for him to say something wrong and throw it back in his face with the sunny disposition of a feral, rabid cat.

“Hey,” Mike says then, irritated again; but his voice is hoarse, too. Tired. No heat behind it after that stupid fight with Dustin and Lucas earlier tonight that made him snap and leave Steve’s house in a frenzy. “I said, What do you want?”

Steve shrugs, looking ahead into the darkness that feels endless and alluring and deeply terrifying.

I miss my friend! My best friend, Mike!

“Making sure you’re okay.”

You’ve changed, you know that? You’re not the guy who would jump off a cliff for me anymore, I don’t think I even know you anymore!

Dustin’s voice echoes in Steve’s mind as it undoubtedly does in Mike’s, too, and he can only imagine how much that hurts, especially if he’s shivering like that even though the night is warm for early September.

“I’m okay,” Mike says, sounding endlessly annoyed about the fact. Steve almost huffs out a humourless laugh. Yeah, right.

“Sure you are,” Steve says, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over Mike’s shoulders without a comment, half-expecting him to just throw it into the darkness below. But Mike doesn’t move, is eerily still beside him, pretending not to notice that Steve’s watching him.

“But you know it’s, like,” he starts again and trails off, looking for the right words because this is unfamiliar terrain and the ground beneath his feet is quite literally nonexistent. “It’s fine if you’re not, right? It’s actually really fucking normal to be more than a little fucked up after everything, all that crazy shit. Or just… in general.”

You were twelve, he wants to say. You were twelve and you jumped off from here. You were twelve and you were going to die. And not because of those monsters, not yet. Just because… you were twelve.

Mike doesn’t say anything, but the gravel crunches once more as he reaches for a handful of stones to throw them into the darkness one by one, the void beneath them so enormous that they don’t even hear the noise of impact.

You jumped.

The longer Mike remains silent, the more Steve wants to scream, wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, wants to make him see and understand that Steve knows about the scars a decision like that leaves, especially when you live to deal with the consequences.

He gets seizures to deal with the consequences. His ear is fucky, his eye is twitchy, his head is aching constantly, he gets migraines that knock him out for a day or two, all because he wanted to protect his friends. All because he did protect his friends. It worked. They’re safe.

But they’re also unaware of… of everything. Of the horrible stillness as clarity dawns and all signs point to the one way that always seems to work. The one easy way out, and still the hardest of them all when the plan goes wrong and he makes it out alive. When It’s gotta be me is the only thing to say, but later turns into an angry It never should have been me because the world looks different when it’s smeared with your blood.

And it’s always the lost boys who make decisions like that. Steve wonders, some nights in cold sweat, what happens if he makes these decisions without immediate danger. What happens if he just… decides to jump. Decides to run. To give the world more of his blood. Without saving anyone.

It’s not like he wants to — but he’s terrified that it’s just who he is. Who he’s turned into, terrified that his friends will forever expect him to.

And he’s even more terrified knowing that Mike jumped before he learned about monsters. Before he learned about fighting and surviving.

You were a kid, he wants to say again, but his throat is closing up on him.

“I don’t think that’s okay actually,” Mike says after a while, tearing Steve away from his fears. They’re still both looking ahead rather than at each other, but it’s fine. They’re still here. “Like, people say it is, but it feels so empty when they do, you know? Like, sure, yeah, I’m not fucking okay, but what the hell do we do about that now? Oh, right, I know! Let’s throw it in my face that I’m not good enough for you anymore now that there’s no monsters to kill anymore. Now that I’m just Mike, who’s not even enough to be that anymore, sure. Right. Yeah. Let’s pretend it’s all fine, Steve, let’s pretend it’s okay to hurt all the fucking time!”

Mike is shaking now, violent tremors running through his body, and Steve’s first instinct is to reach out and pull him close, to keep him from that edge and take him to his car; turn on the heating and talk there. But Mike seems to need the darkness, seems to need to be faced with endless depth to give voice to his thoughts.

“What Dustin said was messed up. He shouldn’t have said that.”

Mike shrugs, throwing more pebbles into the darkness, though his motions have lost their vigour. “He’s right, though.”

Steve sighs, though not unkindly. “No, he’s not. Hey, listen to me.” He waits until Mike turns to meet his eyes, and he leans forward. “It’s not okay. It’s not right what he said. You don’t deserve to have that shit thrown in your face just because Dustin is a tactless little douche bag.”

Taking a bullet for someone is not the baseline for friendship, he wants to say, and it occurs to him once again how fucked up their perception and idea of friendship must be, now that they’ve all bonded over the most horrific shit and actual grief they never learned how to work through.

It’s not even Dustin’s fault, not really. They’re all just collateral damage to something Bigger, and all they have is each other, leaving them in a vicious cycle that is so, so fucked up.

“Why’d you jump?” he asks eventually, quiet in case the darkness tries to listen in. “Back then, why did you jump?” And do you wish El had let you? Do you sometimes wish that? When your room is quiet and it’s only you living with all those silent, terrible decisions?

Mike shrugs again, but there’s not much fight left in him, Steve can see that, can feel it in the air between them.

“Will was gone,” he says like it explains everything— and it sort of does. Steve has seen the way these boys look at each other when the other’s not looking, he has seen the hurt and the anger and the gentleness stored there, the words unspoken and the fear that, despite interdimensional monsters, kinda goes unmatched.

Because they have each other. They only have each other. And if someone’s suddenly different than what they thought they knew, if someone’s suddenly different, then… Everything might just fall apart.

And Steve wants to grab him again; wants to pull him close and say, I’m the same. We have the same scars. We have the same!

Slowly, carefully, he does lean over now, weaving an arm around Mike’s shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“I get that.”

Mike swallows heavily and exhales shakily. “I don’t think you do.”

“No. I think I really, really do. But it’s okay, Mike. You won’t be alone with this, okay. I’m on your side, you little shit.”

A pause, a beat, a moment’s respite. Then, “Why?”

“Because,” his heart is racing, his mouth trembling around forming the words for the first time, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. Knows it’s important.

Knows it might just save a life.

“Because I fell harder for Eddie Munson than I ever thought possible, and once i found out what was happening, I kind of wanted to jump off a cliff, too. But I didn’t, because I had someone with the same fears as me, and instead of stupid shit we just… Cried together sometimes. Screamed into our pillows. Laughed with and at each other, calling ourselves hopeless, and— I don’t know. It’s really fucking scary, and that doesn’t go away just because you have someone to talk to. But it‘s… better. It’s so much better.”

He huffs, swallowing around the lump in his throat, smiling into the darkness.

“So I’ve got you, okay? Whatever it is, whatever makes you feel like it’s not fucking okay, I’ve got you. You come to me, yeah? Lucas does, Dustin does, even Max does. This is your official, standing invitation and whatever, okay, dickhead?”

Mike shoves at him lightly, still not parting from the rather awkward side-hug they’ve got going on, and Steve is glad for it.

“Okay, okay, geez,” the little shithead says, rolling his eyes which Steve can see even in the dark, and it feels like the edge has moved away from them, like they have solid ground beneath their feet again.

Steve doesn’t say anything more after that, just waiting for Mike to stir to lead him back to the car, load in his bike and take him wherever he feels like spending the night.

But Mike doesn’t move for another long while, and it makes Steve feel like something big has just happened between them. Like they finally have found the common ground that Steve’s been suspecting they had for months now, even years.

Eventually, as they make their way to the car and Mike goes to grab his bike, he speaks up again, but more subdued now.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Does… Does Eddie know?”

“About what?” My tendencies to take a leap off the edge?

“You. Being…”

“Oh!” A smile as he unlocks his car and opens the back door to squeeze Mike’s old bike in there with minimal smears of dirt. “I’d hope so, we’ve been dating for months.”

“You’re dating?! You? Eddie’s dating you?”

“Yeah, listen, do you want me to just leave you here or would you rather be thrown out in the middle of nowhere?”

Mike grumbles something unintelligible as he climbs into the front seat, waiting for Steve to start the engine before he speaks up again.

“It’s just, you’re so… How did you even do that?”

Steve laughs at that, disbelieving and all, because, “Trust me, I have no idea. Must have been the ol’ Harrington charm and all that.”

Mike rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest, sinking lower in the seats to pout. “You’re so lame.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over how much I have a boyfriend and you don’t.”

If his heart skips a beat because it still feels like a forbidden truth saying the word out loud despite the playful banter, then he’s ignoring that in favour of revving the engine.

“Asshole.”

“Dickhead.”

“Grow up,” Mike says, but Steve can see the smile he’s not even trying to hide, and he mirrors it with his own as he turns on the radio catching the final tunes of Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark.

They’re not okay, none of them. But the car is warm, the cliff’s edge is behind them, and they’re not listening to the same ten songs anymore.

They’re getting better, step by tiny step.

[ohraicodoll]

You Bury Me

Joel Miller x Feral Reader/OC The Last of Us 7k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: A failed trade, a dress, music, and their own form of confession. Warning: Hurt/Comfort. Explicit Sexual Content. 18+ Minors DNI

“I'll never know If there's danger in confession Or it's memory that presses Like a blade against my throat Another word and I could choke But what's worse? Tellin' you my feelings Or to die without revealing That you got inside my head And set a fire there instead?”” -”Ya'aburnee” by Halsey “Ya'aburnee means "you bury me." In Arabic however, it represents the idea that you hope the person you love will live longer than you, so you don't have to live without them.”

“Well aren’t you a stunner,” Tommy grinned, looking her over despite her stance giving off the vibe of a wet cat being forced into a room full of children. She shot him a withering stare, glare sharp, but the hostility wasn’t there like usual. Just extreme discomfort. He only kept smiling and she disliked how they were starting to be unaffected by her now that they were getting used to her.

She glowered, hands fidgeting with the material of her dress, feeling bare and uncomfortable outside of pants and entirely weaponless. The dress was snug, fitted to her body, short bell sleeves of all things draped from her shoulders. She hadn’t worn anything fitted in over a decade, hadn’t worn anything other than pants since the Outbreak. Even now she wore whatever she could grab off the floor, whether it be hers or Joel’s or Ellie’s. At this point Joel was complaining about both of them taking his shirts. But Maria had forced the black dress onto her and pushed her into it even after she’d sneered at the ruffled skirt and v-neck that showed more cleavage than she was comfortable with. Tommy’s wife was starting to grow immune to her snapping as well, knowing that for as much as she barked, there was zero bite against her especially while she was pregnant. 

She’d brought it on herself and was going to suffer through it. When sandals were brought out, she flat refused. She could fight in a skirt if she needed to but she drew the line at anything other than her boots, no matter how much Maria corrected her that she wouldn’t be fighting at all. This all had been done with much protesting. A lot of protesting. But she’d been at a disadvantage. She had initiated the trade. Maria didn’t need anything from her and therefore didn’t have anything she wanted for the trade she’d been trying to do between them. Instead, the woman had given her another option in the spirit of integration. She had to come to one of Jackson’s monthly gatherings and dress up for it. Literally. She almost walked out. Almost. This felt like a sort of punishment of the worst kind. A punishment for all the stress and fights and problems she’d been at the center of. Maria was trying so hard to force her to be like everyone else and didn’t understand it was like stepping on a pile of sharp, hot blades. It was physically uncomfortable to be around so many people, especially dressed as she was. No armor. No one understood how intense that feeling was except for Joel, even Ellie having a hard time processing sometimes.

Maria grinned smugly in that overly assured way she always did when she thought she knew better and her teeth grit behind thinned lips. She needed Ellie or Joel as a buffer between her and everyone else, not liking the feeling of the attention being on her. But the teenager had already run off to find her new friends and she wasn’t going to hold her back. The older man was nowhere to be seen since working a construction shift. 

She was trying. God, was she trying if only for Ellie and Joel’s sake but it was hard getting used to being surrounded and not on edge 24/7. Ellie had made sure to wolf-whistle at her when she’d seen her, now that she knew how, and asked if she was wearing the outfit because she had a concussion. The little shit. She wanted to lay out back with the pigs and die. “Fuck off, It was part of a trade,” she bit out, the words easier in her anger, slightly glaring at them both in an attempt to hide her discomfort, “All this for a damn record player.” Tommy’s brow furrowed and he looked over at his wife with a frown, “Record player? Our record player?” Maria shrugged, “Yeah, we don’t really use it or have any good records for it so I’m trading it to her.” The younger Miller winced, looking between both women almost fearfully though the look he was giving her was far more nervous, “Sweetheart, I’m sorry but I traded that today. I didn’t know-” “You traded it?” her voice cut him off incredulously, irritation and the bitter taste of disappointment on her tongue. Her tone was sharp, cutting, as her heart sank to the pit of her stomach, “Seriously? Maria-” Tommy cringed harder, eyes roaming as if to search out Joel or Ellie out of safety, while his wife raised her hands placatingly, “I didn’t know, Red. Listen, I’ll figure something out. I’ll see if someone else has one and I’ll make it right.” She felt stupid. She never asked for anything herself. Never tried to get non-essential items or things just for her. Every trade she had made or request had been for the two people she cared for or the kennels. Join the community, they had said. She tried. If only to keep from getting kicked out and Joel and Ellie from being ostracized because of her. Everyone was still terrified of her and she knew that if she got kicked out, there would be no stopping the two of them from following her no matter how much she protested. 

So she tried even when it felt like being skinned alive for their sake.

She’d tried to make bridges between her and Tommy, get along somewhat with Maria and even approached her for a trade. It had felt like she was being choked while doing it, but she had and had then suffered Maria’s ministrations and been forced out of her comfort zone for even a hint of a prize. Had sat there, seething as Maria did her hair and dabbed makeup on her, nails digging into her thigh. Now there was nothing but embarrassment. 

Stupid. Fucking stupid. Her cheeks were flush and her chest tight, feelings she never allowed to sink in now flooding her. Embarrassment. She was so embarrassed. She hadn’t felt embarrassed since she was younger, hadn’t cared what people thought of her in the years since the Outbreak but now- the feeling was hot and sticky in her chest.

Spinning away from them with a snarl, she pushed through the crowd of happy people dancing around them having a good time and tried to ignore the flutter of her skirt against her legs and the pressing atmosphere of too many people. Skin bumping against her bare arms, laughter in her ear, the lights too bright. Too many eyes, staring, judging, standing at her back. Their laughter was choking her, the music for once not helping but muffling her ears to the point she couldn’t hear herself think. Panic. It hit her hard and she tried to breathe as she ran for the exit.

It’d been a mistake. She wasn’t the same girl from over twenty years ago who had loved music so much she had forced herself into the spotlight despite her fear and anxiety. Letting Maria dress her up, making her feel like a semblance of that girl again, had been a mistake. That girl had died and needed to stay buried if she was going to survive. She wasn’t bashful, gentle, pretty, or delicate. No, that’d all been beaten out of her over and over and over again by life and everything cruel. The world chewed up those types of people and she hadn’t let it, had gnashed her teeth at it and become something else to survive. Maybe she wasn’t made for settlement life. She wanted to claw the dress off her body and burn it, stick her head in a bucket of water until the makeup ran off. She had let herself want something and got burned for it. At least Joel hadn’t been there to see it all, mock her for playing dress up and see how she lacked in comparison to all the other women he could have. She wasn’t sure if she could handle his laughter. He kept her around because she was ruthless, not because of how she looked, and now she appeared weak. Ellie noticing had been bad enough. She didn’t remember the walk home. Only the press of the fabric constricting her skin, the slight buzz of the electricity overhead, the way her heartbeat was overwhelming in its rapid pace. Her breathing was choked around the panic and rage and embarrassment crawling through her veins and she needed to hide away for a while. The slight squeak of the front steps grated in her ear but pulled her back into herself enough to realize she had made it. She huffed out another annoyed sigh, unlocking the front door. She was going to shower, rinse all the stares and laughter and evidence of her humiliation, and hide in bed. Maybe get up early and take a morning patrol shift if only to clear her head and avoid the looks of all the townspeople that had witnessed her embarrassment, breathe in the woods and the wilderness. Hell, maybe she’d take a dive into the river and let it wash her downstream and away from it all. But as she opened the door, she came to a frozen halt. There was music playing in the living room. The soft crooning of Ella Fitzgerald filled the space, the tune soft and low with only the slightest crackling of a worn speaker. It wasn’t the busted radio Joel had tried to fix that cut out every other second. The lights were low, only a lamp on in the corner, and the music made the space feel so much softer, almost warmer. And there it was. The record player she had made the deal for sitting on the top of a small end table that most of the time was covered in books or tools or gun parts. “Hey,” she could feel Joel’s presence even before he spoke, that part of her mind that always kept track of him no matter where he was in the house or around her. But her eyes were stuck on the record player and the spin of the vinyl, watching the motion hypnotically and flooded by the music. Everything drained from her, leaving her hollow, frozen, empty. Her voice was loud in her ears, a roar in a chasm, but she knew it was barely a whisper in the space between them, “I was going to trade for that.” Joel didn’t reply but she could see him rub the back of his neck out the corner of her eye, the slight wince crossing his face as he tucked a hand into his belt, “Sorry, I got it from Tommy today…I knew you had your eye on one and you’ve been stashing records in the downstairs room with no way to play them. This one even has one of those cassette slots for that tape you keep and I know Bobby who runs the library has a good stash of those-” “Joel, shut up,” she whispered though none of the usual harshness was there. Instead, she was struggling to breathe, to suck in air past the knot in her throat and the stinging feeling in her eyes. He’d gotten it for her. Not for him, but for her. He had noticed the things she did, what she liked, and had done something nice for her. Often the things he did for them were utilitarian in nature though he did more for Ellie. It was how he showed he cared. Fixing Ellie’s window, loading the woman’s packs with everything she might need the night before her morning shifts, getting her new boots when her old ones started to rip. But there was no practical reason for the record player. He knew bits and pieces about her that she had given him, scraps of her life. Knew she had tried to be a singer before the world went to hell  and her love of music. Knew that the cassette tape in her bag, the one she’d murdered people to keep from getting a hold of, contained her favorite music her sister had made for her as well as her own voice from a rough band practice Annie had recorded. It’d been a birthday present. Remembered the way she would trace her fingers over the records in the wreckage of stores as they passed through them on the road. He’d watched and cataloged it all and had noticed. He’d always noticed her. “Maria made me dress up in exchange for that,” her voice was raspy, choked, “Stuck me in this stupid dress and forced me to put on makeup and did my hair and made me go to that party. All part of a deal so I could get that player.” Joel was quiet, not interrupting but taking her in. Gauging how best to approach lest she run or snap. She could feel his eyes burning into every inch of exposed skin, to the tightening of her hands and the clenching of her jaw. But slowly he stepped a bit closer, more into the light, with a sigh, “It looks good on you-” “I look fucking stupid, Tex,” the words were spit out aggressively, “I feel ridiculous. They all saw me and there were so many people- But I did it. Then Tommy said he’d already traded it and…I don’t know.” She finally turned to look at him, the words a jumble. She couldn’t even understand what she was trying to convey. The overwhelming feeling of shame and disappointment and panic that had flooded her and made her want to run. She caught the way the light reflected off his eyes, the furrow in his brow and the tightness in his shoulders. He was being careful. Even after all the time they’ve known each other, he knew sometimes to be careful. Not to spook her. “You don’t look stupid,” he muttered gently in an effort to convince her and met her eyes, not breaking eye contact and trying to persuade her to listen, “You…you look beautiful and I’m not just fucking saying that. I wouldn’t lie to you, darlin’. Don’t listen to that voice inside your head, listen to mine and what I’m saying.” She swallowed, heart racing, “Why?” “Why listen to me?” “No, why did you do it? Why did you get it?” The thought weighed heavy, but also was a distraction to keep from focusing on his voice calling her beautiful. It was dumb and meaningless. Placating. He hadn’t mentioned needing a record and had listed things that only pertained to her. She had records, she had been eyeing it. It felt like she owed him a debt, but that thought also sounded like an excuse, the alternative something she couldn’t quite process. The record was ending, the soft music stopping and leaving them only in silence. He stared at her, took in the hard press of her lips, the way her fingers were fidgeting with her dress, the stiffness of her body as if at any second she’d bolt like a wild animal. Maybe she would. She was more animal than woman most days. Joel sighed and chewed on his lip, tasting a hint of blood from the dry cracked skin, “Because I knew it would make you happy.” The scoff that left her mouth was broken, half-hearted. It tasted of excuses and denial. “When have you ever cared about what makes me happy?” “Don’t,” the word was hard and unyielding, almost a snarl, his brow furrowing deeper, “Don’t do that. We’re far, far past that kind of bullshit now, Starshine, and you know it. We’ve been far past that for a good while now. Maybe out there you could have gotten away with that bullshit, but not here and now. Not after everything.” She did know it. But it was the last barrier she could keep between them, a shredded tattered thing to shield herself. The vestiges of that hatred that had burned at the beginning of their relationship so long ago, had stayed long after he started fucking her and then had dissipated when they weren’t looking like a magic trick. 

Distrust had turned to respect and then protectiveness behind their backs. She didn’t want to think about what it had turned into next. She’d done so much to keep them both safe because they were hers. She’d burn the whole fucking world down for them, would rip and tear whoever she needed to just to keep them safe, and would smile the whole way. But she and Joel had never spoken out loud what they were. She knew what Ellie was to her, to them both, but between the two adults? That was something else. They were hers and he had said she was his before. But it wasn’t something solid or straight forward. The last tinges of her old self who had been awkward and didn’t know how to navigate dating and relationships still hung on in that aspect, but it was mostly fear. It was a dance she didn’t know the steps to, a language she never learned. She understood sex and family but it’d been so long since she had a relationship and her last had been twisted into something ugly. It was tangled together with her sister, with her death and her screams and the sound of a gunshot. She didn't know how to detangle love from violence. Joel stepped closer and her instinct screamed to run. Her heart was beating like a rabbit caught in a trap, the intimacy almost as frightening as a gun to her head or a Clicker’s teeth. She wasn’t breathing anymore, dressed fisted tightly in her claws. “I know shit’s different here, but unless you have some plans to go back across the country then this is it,” Joel’s accent was thick as he continued to step closer, words direct and to the point, “This is home. This is the place we protect. Ellie, me, and you. And if this is where we’re gonna be I want you to be happy. I want you to have your music, have whatever you want. I’ll fix that guitar and we’ll teach Ellie or I’ll hunt down all those dumb comics she likes so much. Fuck, I’ll be the one to learn to cook if I have to so she stops complaining and so you don’t have to. I’ll let you bring those dogs home whenever you want and maybe let Ellie keep one. I want you happy.” She was choking on her heart, air trapped in her throat and she didn’t know what to do but stand there and shake and listen as Joel painted an image of a life she wasn’t sure she could allow herself to want. “You’re it for me, darlin’,” Joel huffed out a chuckle and shook his head as if disbelieving he was having to tell her outloud, “You and me. I’m not looking at anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. You and Ellie are my purpose and that means I’m going to take care of you both until the day I die. In whatever capacity that means. Whether it continues like we’ve been, continues to a church one day, or out there in the woods without Jackson. It’s us three. I’m not asking you to let your guard down or stop snapping at any dipshit who thinks they can handle you or be some domesticated stepford wife. But I want this place to be home. All of ours.” Her eyes were flickering everywhere else except his own and she wondered if she had ever felt so terrified. Not since the beginning. Not since watching her own version of Ellie get torn to shreds. Not since she’d hollowed everything inside her but the rage and the ugly parts and let it fester into something wild. She’d survived beatings, survived with the worst type of people, survived being a weapon and not once was terrified during those years. Fighting and survival was easy. Killing was easy. Mindless sex was easy. Feelings were not. Feelings got you hurt, got you killed, killed you slowly and made you crazy with worry and the endless possibilities of what could happen. She’d seen Joel wrestle with them. The panic attacks and that numbing fear. There weren’t supposed to be feelings with her and Joel. But that was a lie. They’d been there, deep and hidden under other things. Protecting Ellie. Getting her to the Fireflies. Adjusting to living in Jackson. Jobs and patrol and helping. They were all a distraction. He lifted a hand to her cheek and she couldn’t help the flinch, the shivering as if she was standing in a freezer. But Joel didn’t back off, let her get adjusted and close the distance between them on her own like coaxing a wounded animal to safety. Her hands dropped the now wrinkled fabric of her dress and instead reached out to grip his flannel shirt, relaxing bit by bit while his hand moved to dive into her brushed and slightly curled hair. “You’re mine,” he whispered, feeling the soft strands between his fingers, “Say the word and I’ll get you every damn record player in this town. Whatever makes you happy.” She choked out a laugh that was half a sob, the sound releasing from her throat, and her eyes stung. But she only squeezed them shut, struggling to breath and enjoying the feeling of his touch. His other hand rested over hers on his shirt and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, leaning against her, “You do look beautiful, baby. I promise. You take my goddamn breath away. It’s a good thing I didn’t see you out there, I’d probably have made an idiot of myself or bashed someone’s face in if I caught them staring.” The laugh that ripped through her seemed to break loose everything choked up inside of her. He called her beautiful. The words sent something close to butterflies in her stomach. It didn’t feel real and this new territory still terrified her, but little sparks of joy lit her way. She had vague memories of feeling this way years ago. But this was real and now and felt so much brighter than her memories. She couldn’t help the slight smile, voice still slightly unsure, “I had to promise Maria I wouldn’t fight anyone there.” Joel chuckled, holding her tighter against his chest, rocking her slightly, “You wouldn’t be breaking your promise if I was doing the fighting.” Looking up at him, she let herself sink into his warmth and lifted a hand to trace the beard along his chin. It used to be that this was the Joel she would get at night only. Slightly teasing, slightly playful, more open especially after sex. A stoic wall in the daytime. Something had shifted after leaving Jackson that first time, after he’d tried to dump them off on Tommy. Shifted more after his injury and Denver. Now as they settled into life in Jackson, she could see fully how at ease he was with her. There had been progressively more smiles in the daytime, more soft touches even if discreetly. Eventually not so discreetly. His hand in her back pocket, his arm around her shoulders, on her back. Starshine morphed from being an insult to an endearment. It had been a slow, gradual change, but it had happened. She had only refused to acknowledge it, maybe out of fear. Now staring at him, she let herself see that more often he was smiling at her than frowning. Only called her Red when he was angry or frustrated otherwise it was Darlin’ or Starshine. His room had quickly turned into their room and every morning he was usually wrapped around her. Was there waiting at the gate everytime she had to leave without him, though he preferred to stay at her side. Tommy had once called all three of them codependent and maybe they were, but they were safest with each other. They were home. So she lifted herself up and drew his face down to her, breathing against his lips and almost tentatively kissing him. Like it was new, like she would have if it was twenty years ago and they were meeting back then. She couldn’t say all of what she was feeling out loud, was too tired to admit how much he had shaken her foundation with this one seemingly small act and then demolished it entirely with his words. So she breathed into him, whispering along his lips, “You’re mine too,” and kissed him softly and hoped he knew everything that entailed. He pressed back against her harder, mouth slotting against hers and groaning. The hand in her hair gripped her neck and pulled her as close as she could get, the other moving to grip her waist and the soft fabric there. She felt unsure, awkward, not used to feelings being between them so openly and  the pace being soft versus brutal or fervent. Her fingers trailed over the salt and pepper beard of his chin, the slight wisps of curls at the base of his neck, the muscles of his biceps as they wrapped around her. It was almost an effort not to sink her nails into him, to bite his lips with her teeth. Their steps were fumbling as he walked her backwards until her back hit the living room wall. His hand was roaming all over her, touching the bare skin of her legs and drifting his fingers upward under her skirt. They kneaded the soft skin of her thighs and he moaned into her mouth though that quickly turned into a chuckle as his hands found the pair of shorts she put on under the dress. He looked down, lifting the fabric to peer at the additional clothing underneath, “Did you put shorts on underneath this?” She blushed, swatting his hand to drop the skirt, “Shut up, I felt naked.” Joel chuckled and bent, pressing kisses to the underside of her neck before trailing lower, biting and dragging his lips as he went, “You’re cute when you’re bashful, ya know that? It’s fine. Just one more thing to take off ya.”

Her hands dug into the fabric of his shirt and she was determined not to pout, objecting at being called cute of all things, but quickly found herself melting at his ministrations. The delicious friction of his beard on her skin always did something to her and she was feeling especially sensitive to him, her nerves on fire. Joel bit down on the junction between her neck and shoulder, sucking and teasing the skin, drawing a moan from her mouth. There’d be a mark there, she knew that, and didn’t care. “I wouldn’t mind you wearing dresses more often. Jesus, woman, you’re gorgeous,” he moaned against her skin as he kissed the top of her cleavage. Unconsciously, a yelp left her mouth when he bent down and scooped her up with his hands under her ass, arms flying around his neck and legs crossing around his waist. He grinned at the sound and the flush that heated her cheeks, “I got ya, darlin’. Just wanted to get you to the room before the kid bulldozes in here.” “You are not climbing those stairs with me,” she hissed, looking at the staircase behind them. No matter how strong he was, she also was very aware of both their ages and that if they injured themselves stumbling down the stairs on their way to have sex she’d ask Ellie to put her out of her misery. Joel huffed a laugh, “You’re right, I’m not. We’re using the downstairs room. I’m old, I ain’t stupid.” The spare bedroom on the first floor had quickly become the spare after Joel had complained the handful of times she’d slept down there. Now almost every night she shared the upstairs bed with him lest she wanted to be woken up by him kicking the side of the mattress and grumbling to “get to the room.” It held various things they had scavenged and collected like the guitar Joel had made a project to get to working order, the pieces for it she’d traded along with his craft bench she got for him, her hoarded music, and the various knickknacks she hadn’t wanted to clutter up what she had deemed Joel’s room. Though every now and then the things she put there would somehow appear upstairs, out on full display on top of the shelves and dressers mixed in with his belongings. His own way of making her stuff mingle with his.

He carried her through the door and kicked it shut with her foot, quickly remembering to hit the lock as a precaution after Ellie had almost barged in on them a couple times before. Joel made sure to take advantage of holding her, fingers kneading the soft skin of her ass and keeping her pressed tight against him. With a squeal she hadn’t heard herself make in over two decades, she was dropped down on the small mattress on the far side of the room and he quickly climbed on top, not leaving her alone for even a second. She could feel the delicious pressing of his arousal through his jeans, the way he ground it against her core making her groan. His mouth found hers, frantic and eager, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and diving into the soft graying curls of his hair. She loved to feel the weight of him on her, the hard press of him steady and assuring. Hands quickly tugging his shirt out from his jeans, she felt the heat of his skin and the ridge of every scar she had cataloged by that point. Bullet grazes, knife slices, the puckered edge of that brutal stabbing that had almost taken him away from them. She knew them all, had kissed and licked every single one and memorized them. 

Joel Miller’s body was a thing of beauty, not softening even with age or settlement life. He’d quickly taken up a position in the community he knew how to do well. Construction. It kept him active, in shape, working with his hands and that meant he was still covered in muscle from a hard day's work. It was also why she wasn’t surprised when he had gained the attention of most of the women in Jackson, especially now that he had softened up personality wise. But he’d chosen her. Was kissing her, currently worshiping her mouth and trailing those rough fingers along her arms to intertwine with hers together. It was her that was making him moan and pant her name. Not her name. That name, the one given to her at birth by a woman who didn’t care who she was, had been given to the woods and the bodies she’d left behind. No, he whispered the name they had given her. The only name that mattered now as if she was baptized into this new life the moment she’d met them and been given it. 

Red. Starshine. Darlin. Theirs. His. Her fingers pressed into the skin of his back and she hooked her legs around his, welcoming him to settle between her thighs while she poured everything into kissing him. She swallowed each sound, welcomed the burn of his beard against her skin, feeling arousal shoot straight through her and pool at her core. When she went to unbuckle his belt, he paused her movement and pulled back, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck and the deep V of her dress, “Not yet. I wanna savor this dress on you. Show you exactly how beautiful I think you are.” She bit her lip at the heated look, the slight smirk as he sat up, hands roaming over her thighs. Her own insecurities turned her nervous and she struggled to keep eye contact as his hands found the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down and off of her. He chuckled and threw them across the room, “Next time you wear something like this, you can go without those…if I’m feeling generous and let you leave the house.” “Let me, huh?” she whispered, bottom lip still between her teeth. Joel bent down and pushed the skirt of her dress up, bunching it around her waist, “Can’t have other men wanting what’s mine.” He took his time, tracing the edges of her underwear teasingly, the rough pads of his fingers sending small shocks through her in anticipation. Ever so slowly, he pulled her panties off her legs and knelt between her thighs, leaving heated kisses against the skin. She swallowed, mouth dry, and let out an airy chuckle, “Better watch it, Miller.” He paused, dark eyes meeting hers, “What’d I say about my name, Starshine?” Smirking and remembering that night so long ago when he had fucked her in the abandoned store, the night that cemented the path they would take, she raised herself up on her elbows and stared down at him, “Joel.” And then his tongue was on her, parting her folds and licking up every bit of her arousal. A moan tore from her mouth, head falling back as he devoured her whole, lips sucking on her clit and teasing her desperately. His hands palmed her bare ass and the thick meat of her thigh, fingers bruising as he teased her with his tongue. Joel had always been so good at that, something she had gotten intimately familiar with once they had settled down and were able to finally have time to explore one another. No longer having to have quick  blind fucks in the dark, one ear open to danger or Ellie waking up. She didn’t think he even got to see her with her clothes fully off until they made it back to Jackson. But now that they had time he made sure each moment lasted. He played her like his guitar, pulling sounds from her mouth unbidden with each flick of his fingers and tongue. Joel Miller was good with his hands and knew exactly what to do to make her come hard and fast when he wanted her to. But he was taking his time, bringing her to the edge then slowing down before doing it over and over again. She was never one to beg, but she could feel the plea on her mouth as she ached all over for release and overwhelmed by the sensitivity. She panted his name in desperation and could feel him grin against her, mouth glistening with herself, “Tell me what you want, darlin’. Come on.” So fucking cocky, this asshole. She was tempted to swallow her words, swallow her own tongue just to be defiant. But then he dipped his tongue into her, the flat plane of it sending shockwaves through her body and she growled, “Fucking make me come already.” He laughed at the not so gentle plea as if knowing she wouldn’t mewl and beg like he wanted, shaking his head, “So bossy.” But she didn’t care after that because he was sucking her clit between his lips and his fingers were pumping into her, hard and fast, curling into the exact spot that made her see stars. The friction of his beard on her, his tongue, his hands were all so much and she was overwhelmed, body made of fire and lighting searing every nerve. She came against his mouth, orgasm hitting her hard enough it took her breath away. Her body felt like it was floating, Joel’s careful hands keeping her from washing away, gentle lips leaving soft kisses along her thigh. A thrill went through her at the gentle affirmations and breathy, “good girl,” he whispered into her skin. She was still catching her breath, but could feel him locate the zipper on her dress and he helped her to sit up to pull it up. So gentle with her like she was the most valuable thing in the world. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt and slowly she undid them, feeling his eyes on her as he kneeled between her thighs. His hands never left her skin, trailing softly over her calf but letting her take her time. Each layer came off of him. Shirt, undershirt, belt, jeans. He let her unveil him like it was a ritual. And when he was naked before her, both of them bare and heart open, his hands cradled her cheeks when he kissed her. It was more intimate than anything she had ever felt and was as if he was cradling her raw heart between his hands. It was fire and fear and joy and so much and yet not enough. It was an I love you without words. She pulled him down on top of her and deepened the kiss, tongue swirling to lick up every bit of herself and devour his own taste. Everything that made him Joel. Her gasp was swallowed as he started to push into her, groaning at how tight and warm she felt, thighs slick with the aftermath of her orgasm. Her forehead was pressed against his and she drank down every little sound his mouth made, every hitched breath, watching as his lashes flickered against his cheeks. The pace was slow, building, and she hooked her legs around his calves to usher him deeper, wanting him to fill her up as much as he could. “Fuck, baby,” Joel groaned, fingers tightening on her thigh while the other intertwined with the hand above her head. She held onto him like her life depended on it and let her drown in him, gave him the control and simply held on. Trusted him. Each stroke was a lightning strike and she could feel the way he was slowly losing himself in her, the pace becoming faster and thrusts more aggressive. Her orgasm was climbing, pleasure tightening low in her belly, skin hot with sweat. Her hand clenched his, almost a sign to him, and he broke at last. His mouth collided with hers, tongue against her own, teeth biting into her lips. Joel pounded into her relentlessly, her name on his lips and hold bruising. This was how she liked him best. Passionate and uncontrollable, a fucking tornado to be reckoned with. She’d seen it only when it came to them. Whether it be protecting them or destroying everything in his path to get to them. Joel was as much a beast as her at times but she’d always accepted that, never shied away.

Like calls to like.

Both their orgasms were building together, crashing into one another as if their bodies knew. Every tense moment, every decision and fight and fuck and choice, had led them together and she felt it in her whole being that this was who she was supposed to find at the end of the road. Her eyes squeezed shut and she let go, letting her be pulled under by him and their bodies and everything that had come before and would come later. It was fireworks and electricity and everything as her orgasm hit and she moaned hard into his mouth, feeling him release inside of her, warm and full. He would always follow her over the edge and the thought made her eyes sting. 

They were panting, breathing each other in, bodies sweaty and sticky and the cooling air doing nothing against heated skin. She opened her eyes and met his dark irises, watching her intently, and she couldn’t help but grin at him wide. His breath caught and he swallowed hard, hand leaving her thigh so he could trace the crinkles around her eyes. He caressed the skin with his thumb in reverie, drawing out a blush even after everything they had just done. It was new to feel so exposed. A second later they could hear the front door crash open followed quickly by the familiar stomps of Ellie entering the house, kicking the door shut even after they had told her a million times to stop doing that. They froze, eyes locked on each other, waiting to see if she would call for them or try to enter the downstairs room for some reason. But they could track her loud steps up the stairs and a bit later her door shut. 

It was hard to believe she ever used to be good at walking silently out beyond the walls. They both breathed a sigh of relief and then chuckled only for Joel to quickly hiss, pressing his face against her neck as she unconsciously clenched around him, “Darlin’ don’t laugh while I’m still in you.” She had to try and keep another chuckle in, a first for her, knowing it would only make her do it again. Teasingly, she did it on purpose one more time only for him to bite her shoulder and she yelped, letting laughter take over her once he had pulled out. He chuckled as well, pressing small kisses all over her skin. It would take time to get used to all the new. The new change in their dynamic, the open feelings, the music, the softness, the laughter and smiles, the fear that came with it all. Lifting your armor can leave you vulnerable but without doing so there was no way the joy could get in as well. And she couldn’t live her life without them, would brave every horror imaginable for them.

She’d take it all if it meant she got to keep both of them. ______________________________________

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[angelsdevils]

Hi, can you please write draken / baji / hanma x fem. reader whose cat the reader does not like boy. Cat hisses and snorts at him? Sorry if it's hard to understand English is not my first language

Hi! This was so much fun to write especially since I have a cat! And no need to be sorry I understood it just fine! I hope you like it!

Characters: Draken, Baji, Hanma Synopsis: Reader has a cat that hates other boys, and always hisses at them. 

Draken and your cat had a stare down at the doorway, you were confused when Draken refused to come in and you tilted your head. 

“Love, what are you doing? Come on in.”

“Your cat is clearly waiting to attack me.” 

“(Cat’s name) won’t attack, he likes everyone. Just step over him.”

Draken sighed and went to walk in but your cat hissed at him and got ready to attack. Draken looked at you and you looked at your cat. 

“(cat’s name), stop that. Let him in.” 

“Meow…” 

“Don’t talk back to me.” You said and picked up your cat. Your cat pushed his head under your chin and you placed a small kiss on its head.

“Come on, Draken. I wanna watch a movie.” 

“Mm kay, as long as you keep your cat away from me.” You nodded as you carried him to the living room. Draken sat beside you as you sat on the couch, Draken went to wrap his arms around you but your cat started to hiss at him again. Your cat sent a warning growl, before trying to swap at Draken again. 

“Your cat hates me and I didn’t even do anything.” 

“Well, I know the reason… he hates all boys…”

“Why?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t speak cat.” You said and you both looked down at your cat who was glaring at Draken. Draken sighed and placed his arm back down, and the cat went back to laying in your lap. 

“Stupid cat…” 

The cat growled and Draken shot him a glare and you couldn’t help but laugh slightly.

“Thanks for inviting me over…”

“I had no choice Baji, I have to clean your wounds since you can’t stay out of fights.” You huffed slightly as you led him inside. 

“Don’t be like that, they started it…” 

“All they did was look at me…”

“And I didn’t like it…” 

You rolled your eyes and he leaned down a bit when your cat decided to greet you. Your cat walked past him before rubbing against your legs. He blinked and you laughed slightly.

“Ouch, that kinda hurt.” He mumbled and your cat stared him down as he moved closer to you. Suddenly your cat started to his and growl at Baji. Baji stopped in his tracks and looked at your cat. 

“I am not gonna hurt her, I just wanna hug her…” Baji said to your cat and leaned down. He held his hand out, but your cat ended up swatting at his hand with nails out. Baji pulled his hand back and looked at you surprised.

“How can I put this? You and (cat’s name) are a lot alike. You don’t like when other guys look and talk to me, he doesn’t like when guys come into our home or try and hug me.”

“Wow, so this is how you see me when I see a guy staring at you?”

“Yes, like a feral cat ready to launch an attack.” You said, and your cat did just that. It jumped on Baji slapping him with his nails out and ran to hide somewhere in the apartment.

“I think you have another wound to clean.” 

“Yeah let’s go… you two are too much sometimes. I can’t have guy friends or a boyfriend.” You rolled your eyes and Baji grinned. 

“I gotta get your cat to like me so I can have him attack other guys.” 

“You are so hopeless.” 

“I am not exactly a cat person, (Y/N). Can’t we just go to my house?” 

“No, I miss my cat. And you wanna stay clinging to me, so you are going to have to deal with my cat Hanma. My cat isn’t even mean… all the time.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Well… every guy I brought around he hissed and clawed at them.”

“Only guys?” 

“… Yeah, but I am sure you are different,” Hanma stared at you but sighed. You guys walked in, and you didn’t see your cat. You shrugged and pulled him to your room, and he flopped on your bed. You curled into his arms and your cat jumped on the bed. It was quiet for a while, and Hanma relaxed.

“Huh, maybe I am different,” he whispered. You laughed and went to press your lips to Hanma’s. He sighed softly but suddenly he felt a sharp pain and a loud hiss.

“Owe~” he moved his leg and you looked down at your cat. Your cat had bit his ankle before clawing at it multiple times. 

“You little shit, stop that…” He said, but your cat growled and clawed at his legs again. Hanma picked your cat up, but your cat tried to swipe at his face and hissed loudly again.

“Hanma doesn’t hurt my cat, or I may have to hurt you.” 

“He bit and clawed me.”

“He is a cat…”

“Wow, I have been replaced with a cat.”

“Correction, (cat’s name) was here first. This is his territory.” You said trying not to laugh. Hanma stared at you unamused and dropped your cat. Your cat ran to you and rubbed against your body.

“I still love you Hanma, I swear… but he is my baby too.” 

“I am going home, come over when you want. I am not coming back over.” 

“Hanma don’t be like that.” You placed your cat down and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Don’t leave.” 

“Then do something about him, all I wanted was to cuddle my girlfriend. Before another our fight with Toman, but I have to fight a cat the day before.” 

“Sorry, sorry. I will lock him out…” You said picking your cat up. Your cat meowed in protest as you took him out of your room before closing the door. 

“There…”

“Thank you.” 

© [@angelsdevils] all rights reserved. none of my posts or stories should be modified, reposted, etc. I do not own the character or the fanart, but I own the plots of these stories. All fanart goes to their appropriate owners.

[herecirmsims]

15 Questions Tag Game

Thank you @alpine-lapine​​ for the tag! I’ll put the questions and answers below a cut so as not to clog the timeline. Random story screenshot above, just because.

Are you named after anyone? Yeah, a person my mum met while backpacking during her gap year.

When was the last time you cried? I stabbed myself in the eye a few weeks ago on some rush grass, I cried then. It left an ulceration across my cornea (which apparently has the most nerves in the eye?) and was UNBELIEVABLY painful. I spent a couple days unable to see because moving the damaged eye (which I couldn’t open anyway) meant it rubbed against my eyelid and hurt like hell, and I had to keep my good eye closed to avoid the temptation to move my eyes to look at things. I don’t recommend, tbh.

Do you have kids? Absolutely not.  😅

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Not really. I s’pose I might be peak British and say “Oh yeah it was fucking amazing” if someone asks how a bad situation went.  🤔 I enjoy sarcasm when I understand it/know the person using it, but otherwise it stresses me out when people say things they don’t mean.

What sports do you play/have you played? None competitively, I don’t really enjoy them.

What’s the first thing you notice about other people? Their energy, which is the most hippyish response I could’ve said.  🤣

Eye colour? Blue-grey, somewhere in between.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings! I enjoy a lot of angst on the way there, though. The angst makes the happy ending sweeter, I think, but I like to know that it will end well. Nothing worse than investing myself in a story only to be left feeling sad and empty at the end of it.

Any special talents? Hmm... no. I’m quite good at finding things - noticing small insects or interesting things amongst the stones at the beach, stuff like that.

Where were you born? In the UK.

What are your hobbies? The vast majority of my hobbies are Sims related - storytelling, posemaking, playing. I also enjoy looking for old bottles in Victorian dumps (a lot of farms have them round here), looking for cool things on the beach, bug-hunting, growing vegetables, archery, writing fantasy, hiking.

Do you have any pets? Yes! I have a cat (an ex feral kitten) called Belleraphon or Bel for short, two ponies called Cash and Joey (though they’re really my partners. One was bought because he was going through sales, and with his issues my partner knew he’d have a bad outcome - he’s not ridden and lives in retirement with us. The other was given to us for free by a roofer we had in, and we took him because he’d been living on his own for four years - equines absolutely need company), and two mules called Marty and Xato who are mine (my own! My precious! I bought one for £1 and the other was given to me. I don’t talk about them much in my Sims community circles but I’m obsessed with them... mules are absolutely my number one special interest).

How tall are you? 5′3″

Fave subject in school? English and Media Studies

Dream job? I'd still say author, though whether I’ll ever get over my perfectionist trait and publish anything is another issue. I enjoy writing drabbles for myself, and I enjoy my Sims story which is god-awful but I embrace that - it’s been really freeing just to put down whatever I want to read, and share without overthinking anything. It would be nice to earn money from things I enjoy, but that then puts pressure on them.

I’m not tagging anyone because I tarried and I think everyone who I would’ve tagged has done this already, so if you see this then it’s an open invitation. 

And because I think people might ask, and I can’t resist talking about them a teeny tiny bit... here are my mules. Marty, on the left, was photographed here on his way to the shops; Xato, on the right, was helping me carry sacks of pulled hemlock up to the bonfire. Marty is my going out and about mule (he also does litter-picking, takes bottles to the recycling centre, carries food and luggage on long hikes), and Xato is the work-on-the-farm mule. Though neither have done much at all for a while because sometimes I’m not very good at walking.  😅 

[phykios]

some more speedwriting for mari, prequel to this! 💗

Maybe he didn’t hear right. “You want me to do what?”

Annabeth flushes. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

“You–” His ears might be broken. Or his brain. That was… quite the request she just dropped on him. “I… really?”

Her face turns even redder, and she nods. 

Percy is kind of floundering here. Like, what are you supposed to even say to an ask like that? What’s the playbook for when the girl you’ve been in love with forever (even if she doesn’t realize it) surprises you with your favorite sushi roll from the shop down the block from the gym to sweeten the pot after she asks you to take her virginity? “I… I’m flattered, I guess?”

She looks down, picking underneath her nails. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to,” she mumbles.

“No, that’s not–I–” He gulps, swallowing down the secret he nearly spilled. “I don’t… What I mean is. I. Why… why me, I guess. Like–like what about that guy from your econ class? He was kind of flirty with you, right?” Percy asks, like he doesn’t know exactly how flirty he was with her, or how much Percy wanted to beat the snot out of him for it.

“Connor?” Annabeth makes a face. “Ew.” 

“Or,” now Percy is going red–he can feel it, starting from his cheeks and winding down his chest, his rapid heartbeat pulsing his blood all over his body. “Or… tinder?”

“I don’t want to get a tinder,” she says, scuffing her foot against the rug. “I don’t want to hook up with some random guy from class. If I’m going to do this, I want–I need it to be someone I–someone that I really trust. I don’t want just any random–” She breaks off, bringing one hand to scrub at her face. “Look, if you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

Slowly, carefully, like approaching some kind of feral cat, Percy gets up from his seat, making his way over to the couch, where he sits down beside her. Annabeth doesn’t look at him, studiously avoiding his gaze even as he slings his arm around her, a gesture he’s performed a thousand times over a lifelong friendship–so why does it send his heart racing even faster tonight? 

“I… I trust you, Percy,” she murmurs, pressing her leg to his. “I can’t do this for the first time with someone I don’t trust.” 

And he understands. He does. He just also happens to feel a terrifying, dizzying agony: his quiet dream, held for so long, now freely offered to him on a silver platter. But there’s always the chance that he fucks it up. That he loses his best friend. That he loses the most amazing girl he’s ever known. 

Is it a chance worth risking?

After a moment, she sighs. “You don’t have to say anything. I get it.” Slow, reluctant, she pulls away, starting from her leg to her shoulder to that gloriously soft hair–until Percy grabs hold of her wrist. 

“Wait.”

Her head snaps to him, eyes wide.

“I’ll… I’ll try.”

“You don’t have to force yourself to–”

“I’m not forcing myself,” he interrupts, almost too sharply. “Let’s just–let’s just take it one step at a time. Let’s just go slow?”

A beat, and then she nods. “Slow. Okay.”

Slow. He could do that. He could take things slowly. He could ease her into the depths of his love for her, and maybe she wouldn’t run away. 

Pulling her back to his side, he takes his other hand and places the tips of his fingers against the curve of her neck, skimming ever so gently across the soft skin there, and she sighs again, her eyes fluttering. Percy swallows, a brief pulse of heat in his stomach. “Let’s start with a kiss, maybe,” he says, proud of how he doesn’t stumble over his words, or say them too quickly, with too much enthusiasm. 

Annabeth nods. Percy prays that she can’t feel his hand trembling. 

Then, with the barest pressure on her neck, weak enough for her to break free, he eases her forward, meeting her in the middle. Her eyes are lidded, lips parted, pink and soft, and he can barely spare a thought to his own–please god let them not to be too chapped–before her mouth is on top of his. 

Literally. She misses, her lips landing squarely beneath his own, pressing gently to his chin. With a gasp, she pulls back, her eyes wide, hands going to her mouth. “I’m–oh shit, I’m sorry–”

They stare at each other. And then, as if cued by some cosmic director, they laugh. They laugh and laugh, Annabeth’s head thrown back, and Percy forever in love with the pull of her lips showing off the brightness of her teeth. 

“Here,” he says, chuckling, “let me…” This time, he holds her head steady, and she doesn’t twitch away as he presses his mouth to hers–firmly, squarely, unmistakably on her smiling lips.

Yes, he decides. Yes, this is worth risking.

[ailendolin]

ThemThere Thursday - 01 - Yonderland

Title: Menace [AO3]

Characters: Negatus & Debbie, the demons, the twins, Voltari

Prompt: Negatus adopting his mangey (compliment) little Yorkie. - Prompt sent in by the lovely @tonystarksfabulousass.

A/N: While this is a sequel to my fic Scratchy, it's not really necessary to have read it to understand this one.

Prompts are open, so if you want me to write a story for you just send me an ask with the fandom, characters and your prompt. I’m writing for Ghosts, Yonderland, Horrible Histories and Bill at the moment.

————

Menace

“Don’t you think it’s time to get a little of that feeling Scratchy gave you back?”

Negatus could still hear Debbie’s quiet laugh ringing in his ear when he’d asked her, “Are you telling me to get another dog?”

“No, not quite,” she had said. “But I’ll gladly go with you to the shelter if you’re thinking of adopting one.”

He had told her he would think about it – and he had, every day and every night since her birthday party. Now that the idea had been planted in his head, he couldn’t seem to get rid of it anymore. No matter where he looked or what he did, something always reminded him of it; be it Jeff every time he went a little too feral and nearly shredded the newspaper instead of giving it to him like a good little demon, or Neal who seemed to have adopted a stray flutterbug he’d found half-dead in the Chamber of Evil Misdeeds. It was even worse when he left his Fortress. Just yesterday he had seen that good for nothing Payne give his son some sort of lizard, of all things. The lad had beamed up at his father as if Thanktival had come early, looking like he was about to cry. Negatus gave the poor lizard three days tops before it found its head parted from its body and up on one of Payne’s walls.

He’d always despised the old bugger.

All of this made it incredible hard not to give in to temptation and ask Debbie if she’d really meant what she said. Telling himself that he sort of already had a pet in Jeff or that dogs were too high maintenance with their walks three times a day and special dog food and all the toys they left lying around didn’t help either because he’d inevitably remember how kind and loyal they were too. How they managed to calm you down and make you smile even when you felt like crying just a moment ago by simply looking at you with their big brown eyes and wagging their stupid tails.

Negatus closed his eyes and sighed. He’d never stood a chance, had he? Even though he had lost Scatchy years ago, he’d never forgotten how safe he’d felt with the little guy curled up next to him at night. There had been precious little in his childhood that hadn’t terrified him one way or another but Scratchy had made those fears disappear simply by being there.

Negatus rarely allowed himself to think about him these days but when he did he missed him so fiercely it felt like his heart was missing a piece. A new dog wouldn’t change that, wouldn’t ever replace Scratchy – he knew that. But maybe … maybe it would give his life a new purpose now that being evil had gone out of fashion so spectacularly with Cuddly Dick’s defeat.

“Demons!” he called, decision made. It only took a second for Rita, Jeff and Neil to appear out of nowhere.

“You called, oh not-so-dark Lord?” Rita asked.

“Fetch me my helmet. We need to find the elf. I’m going to get myself a dog.”

Rita and Neill shared a look that didn’t seem as surprised as Negatus had expected it to be. Jeff merely cocked his head to the side. “I thought you were a cat person.”

“Ugh,” Negatus said and shoved him away.

————

“We can’t take the demons with us to the shelter, Negatus,” Debbie said for the third time.

Also for the third time, Negatus frowned at her. “Why not? They’re my minions – that’s almost like pets, innit? No one will notice a few more scraggly beasts running around the shelter. I mean, look at them.”

The demons all gave a little wave. Debbie groaned.

“They,” she said, pointing at the demons, “are your employees. We’ve talked about this, Negatus.”

“Have we?” Negatus asked, glancing at Rita and Neil. They nodded, and so did Ben and Hayley who sat next to them. “Okay, fine. But it won’t be my fault if they won’t get along with the dog.”

Jeff looked up from the drawing he was making. “Dog? I thought we were here to see James McAvoy.”

Before Negatus could do so much as roll his eyes, Debbie marched over to the TV and turned on the film with the magical cupboard the demons and children had been watching the last time Negatus had been in Debbie’s world.

“Not again,” Neil groaned at the same time as Ben and Hayley shouted, “Mr Tumnus!” drowning out Jeff’s equally excited, “Look! That’s him!”

“That’ll keep them busy,” Debbie murmured before she added a little more loudly, “All right, kids, I’m off with Negatus. Daddy’s upstairs fixing the leak in the bathroom so if you need anything, just shout for him.”

She gave both Ben and Hayley a kiss before she took off Negatus’s helmet and gestured for him to say goodbye as well. He waved at the demons. “See you later, losers.”

“Unbelievable,” Debbie muttered as she pulled him out of the room. “Pete! We’re going! Love you!”

“Love you more!” Pete’s voice echoed down the stairwell, followed by a loud thump and a quiet, “Ow,” that Debbie chose to ignore.

“Shall we?”

Negatus hadn’t known what to expect when she told him to get into the car – something similar to a taxi ride in Yonderland, perhaps, where the slow pace allowed one to really appreciate the scenery. It certainly wasn’t Debbie driving them to the shelter at neck-breaking speed and nearly getting them both killed on the way. She even had the audacity to laugh in his face when she saw him desperately clinging to the door upon their arrival. “Bit too fast?”

Negatus merely glowered at her.

The shelter didn’t look like much at first glance, he found, and that impression didn’t change when they stepped inside. He considered the possibility that it was meant to appear a little rundown and uninviting – he had never been in a shelter in Debbie’s world before, after all, so who knew how these places were supposed to look. But he got the distinct impression that lack of funding made it difficult, perhaps even impossible, for the staff to give the animals the love they needed despite obviously pouring their hearts and souls into their work. The took good care of the animals, yes – all of them had food and water bowls, as far as Negatus could tell, and sometimes even the odd little toy – something that couldn’t be said for the hunting dogs his father used to own or the horses Negatus had watched wasting away in the dark stables. But good care alone wasn’t enough. If he had learned anything from Scratchy then that food and water might be needed to survive but were rarely enough to live.

As he went down the corridor and looked at the kennels with Debbie at his side, sad eyes glanced up at him wherever he looked. Some of the dogs came running up to the doors, barking in excitement; others curled up in the corner, whimpering. Some didn’t move at all, already having resigned themselves to their fate.

It tugged at Negatus’s heart, and he found himself stopping and turning to Debbie with a helpless look on his face. “How am I supposed to just … choose one? I mean, look at them.”

He gestured at all the sad faces around them, each and every one of them deserving of a home.

After a moment of silent consideration, Debbie said, “Maybe you’re not supposed to.”

At first, Negatus thought she was telling him to take all of them home. While he certainly would have the space in his Fortress, he didn’t have the time to take care of that many dogs nor the capacity to love them as they deserved.

Debbie gently touched his arm. “Maybe someone else is meant to choose.”

She nodded towards the caretaker who had been showing them around and was currently kneeling in front of a door, trying to coax one of the dogs closer, and Negatus finally understood.

————

Asking to see, “The dog everyone just walks past and no one wants,” ended up with him walking out of the animal shelter with a three-legged and half-blind Yorkshire Terrier – that’s what Debbie and the caretaker had called the pitiful little bundle of matted fur in his arms, anyway. Apparently, she had been found on the streets half a year ago and the caretakers had lovingly called her Princess even though she gnarled and growled at anyone who came too close to her.

Negatus instantly fell in love. Princess as a name, however, wouldn’t do so he had chosen a new, appropriately evil name for her that was similar enough to her old name for her not to get too confused.

“Demons!” he called when Debbie opened the front door. “Meet your new housemate – Menace!”

Rita and Neil gave him looks that clearly said he had lost his mind and carefully kept their distance from the little growling thing in his arms. Jeff, on the other hand, came right up to him and reached up to pet Menace without any hesitation.

“She’s fluffy,” he declared happily even though most of Menace’s fur was awfully matted and in desperate need of both a bath and a cut. She bared her teeth at him but allowed the touch. “Aw look, she’s smiling at me!”

“Right,” Rita muttered and took another step back as Ben and Hayley rushed past her. They were crowding the little dog before Debbie had a chance to stop them.

“She smells,” Hayley said with a mix of disgust and delight. Ben scrunched up his nose and nodded in agreement but didn’t let that stop him from petting the dog.

Menace, it turned out, was – well, not exactly friendly with children and demons but willing to tolerate them. The same couldn’t be said for most adult humans. Debbie wasn’t allowed to pet her and neither were the Elders when Negatus brought her around for the first time, much to Choop’s disappointment. She seemed to like Nick and Elf well enough, though, and loved to play fetch with the Youngers.

There was only one exception to her no-adults rule aside from Negatus: Voltari. Whenever Menace saw him, she would follow him around like a – well, like a lost puppy. Negatus was sure Voltari kept sneaking her treats when he wasn’t looking but so far hadn’t been able to catch him doing it.

“That’s my dog, you know? Get your own if you want one so bad.”

Voltari shared an amused look with Dissectus before he pointedly gave Menace a scratch behind her ears. “Oh no, we’re just fine, aren’t we, sweet girl?”

Menace, the little traitor, closed her eyes in bliss.

He might not have been completely sure about getting a dog at first but now that he had her, Negatus couldn’t imagine life without Menace anymore. She slept next to him at night, licked his face in the morning to wake him up, chased the demons around the kitchen table for fun during breakfast and nearly killed him twice a day by leaving one of her toys lying around in an unfortunate place – though that could have also been Jeff, now that Negatus thought about it. Most importantly, she made him laugh with her goofy antics and silly barks – more than anyone else had in a very long time.

She wasn’t Scratchy – and that was okay because Scratchy would always have a place in his heart that no one else could possible take. There was space there for Menace too, and Negatus liked to think that Scratchy would be happy for him.

“He would have liked you,” he murmured fondly as he lifted Menace up onto his lap. She growled but closed her eyes in bliss when he petted her behind her ears, making him chuckle fondly. “You little menace, you.” It was nice to have a buddy again.

[blorbologist]

in preparation for tonight's reunion! what are some of your hcs m9 post campaign? and what are you hoping to see in the two shot?

OHHHHHH god I'm so excited, I've got wine on standby! I don’t think my M9 HCs are too far out of the usual ones? Let's see what I can dig up

Not the M9 directly, but Astrid and Eadwulf live in a house a few doors down from Beauyasha. Either they're married or QPP, either way it's hilarious

I subscribe to Plank King Kingsley theory, I love it!

Caleb uses transmutation magic to spay/neuter the Rexxentrum cats because as much as he'd like to he can't take them all in and no cat should be born on the streets :c

I think at one point after a long discussion, Essek gets Transmorgified into some other kind of elf, or at least a very different looking drow, because the risks if he's found out are way too high. Sometime before Caleb dies they change him back. Veth is there for the first casting, given Essek helped develop this spell that got her body back and is now giving him a little more freedom to live his life, too.

As for hopes for the twoshot...

I! WANT! ESSEK! MY BLORBO MY EVIL PHD STUDENT MY GRAPE OF A FLOATING MAN.

I hope it's at least two years in the future, if not happening roughly when C3 is - to allow time for the Nein to be settled into their post-canon lives and healed a bit.

SOMEONE either expecting a kid or adopting one. Laura dropped the 'Vex is pregnant' bomb during Search for Bob so I wouldn't be surprised if she pulled something similar here, but could be someone else's turn. Veth included! Veth having another kid on the way would actually be a riot holy shit

Luc update! I want to know about his magic lessons and his crossbow usage.

Anything about the Apogee Solstice - does anyone in the Nein know about it? Do the entities they're connected to have an interest? Thinking mainly Ludinus Da'leth, Uk'otoa, Artagan, hell Essek might have thoughts on it.

Speaking of: Artagan insights into some Feywild bullshit!

Domestic Fjester! Domestic Beauyasha! Domestic Shadogast? Domestic Brenattos!

I hope we get more insight into Kingsley's personality! I wanna get a good feel for him.

I wanna know why Cad isn't coming, in-universe. Just gimme a reason, no big!

I'd love Jester and Beau to have a moment as besties, because I missed that late C2, though I understand if they don't go for it because of Beaujester drama remnants.

Is Yussa in trouble Again?

I wanna see Uk'otoa. Not just seal him away. Stab him in the eyeball.

Frumpkin sighting?

A very very minor thing, but if there's any Assembly lore tied to Delilah I'll go feral. Caleb. Caleb pull through for me. Gimme the deets on academic scandals.

This goes without saying, but I wanna say it anyways: I want the cast to have fun. I get so much enjoyment from seeing them have a riot - this is fundamentally their game and their characters and their story. My wants mean little to theirs - I hope they get everything they want out of it even if it’s not what the fandom wants and clearly have a blast.

[bigg-city-riders-au]

Getting To Know The Beast

Yet another drabble for the feral au featuring Titan. Dabble under the cut. Tw for threats of violence under the cut.

“You know, you’re not as bad as they say.” Michael looked up at the massive ocean going tug, who was resting on the sandy shores of the beach, having heaved his massive body onto land a few hours before. His eyes constantly scanned the area as he kept a watchful eye over two children who were playing with his towline, which idly twitched to encourage them to play with it, like a mother cat letting her kittens play with her tail.

The jet black hull was accented with horizontal white stripes and the nameplate on the bow of the beast bore its name, Titan. A fitting name for a tug his size. His chest, back and head were a rust brown. His facial features were not too dissimilar to his father’s, Hercules. He was just as big and powerful as his father. Titan’s icy blue eyes bore a cold glare that pierced one’s very soul. His messy jet black hair was gently blowing in the wind as a gentle breeze picked up, carrying the scent of the ocean with it.

Titan turned his attention away from the two young children that were playing on his deck, one boy, one girl. They were born a few years ago. Dusk, their mother, refused to reveal details about their father but they did share a few characteristics of other Riders. Michael couldn’t help but feel uneasy when the massive tug turned its cold piercing gaze to him, like being stared at by a great wolf and Michael was nothing more than a mere rabbit. He shuddered as Titan narrowed his eyes at him, turning his large eyes into icy blue slits that stood out startlingly from his dark colored hide.

“Don’t mistake my babysitting for hospitality, welp. I’m allowing you to be this close because my Rider has taken a liking to you.” Titan growled softly as his towline twitched. Michael shrank back at his voice. The tug’s voice was riddled with malice and was far deeper than anticipated. Perhaps deeper than Warrior’s voice. Yet, it was almost pleasant to hear, like the voice of a nobleman. Michael hadn’t felt so insignificant until he was under Titan’s harsh glare and heard the tug’s formidable voice for the first time. Michael immediately nodded and averted his gaze.

“Yes, I should have taken that into account. I’m sorry about that, Titan.” Michael swallowed the lump in his throat. The tug’s mere presence was enough to make even the bravest warriors grow uneasy.

“Hmph.. I suppose my Rider judged you well.. That doesn’t mean I’ll allow you near her children. They’re as precious to me as they are to her. They hold the Ravenswood’s future. They are heirs of the dark throne. It is my duty to guard her and her children with my life. I would not have hesitated to set an example out of you if you hadn’t bonded with my mother.” Titan’s harsh words cut like a knife. He wasn’t afraid to kill a villager or even threaten another Rider to get his points across. No wonder why they get along so well.

“I suppose so.. I don’t understand what she sees in me. If you don’t mind, could I ask you why she took me in so quickly?” Micheal dared to look up into Titan’s eyes. Titan’s icy blue eyes locked with his brown eyes, studying the human before him before turning his head away from him and a puff of thick black smoke billowed from his smoke stack not too dissimilar to a dragon’s snort. The tug remained silent for some time before finally speaking up.

“It’s obvious you have potential as a Rider. You’re sleight of hand and your tongue is sharp and your mind sharper. She sees you as a student. Why else do you think she’s been teaching you about the magic she uses? The history of the Riders? Combat training? She doesn’t take on just any student. One must have that hunger for knowledge, ambition, and confidence in oneself. She saw that in you, Michael. That is something for you to take pride in.” Titan spoke with such sincerity yet malice trickled in his voice. Micheal took in every word. The bard bowed his head in respect.

“Thank you. I appreciate you answering the question.. if you don’t mind-“ Micheal was cut off as Titan pushed himself back off the sandy shores of the beach. The two children clung to Titan as his massive body slipped into the water of the ocean.

“My Rider is calling for me. Perhaps we can meet again. Just not when I’m babysitting my Rider’s pups.” Titan’s cold gaze fell upon Michael again. The human shuddered under his intense gaze. This tug wasn’t one to be taken lightly. Michael bowed his head to the gigantic tug.

“Yes, of course. I’ll take my leave then.” Michael nodded in acknowledgement. Titan simply grunted before making his way to the fortress, leaving the bard alone on the beach. He sat down on the sand, watching the waves crash against the shore. He needed some time to ponder Titan’s words.

[radiant-flutterbun]

Eye Spy

Black cats.

Something about black cats enamored Eyespot.

It wasn’t a surprise to her parents when they became her Charge.

When she was old enough she began to wonder further and further from home, collecting all of the black cats she could find. It didn’t matter if they were feral or tame. She would bring them home.

The young guardian made her way through the Sunbeam Ruins, looking for any black cats she could find. Everytime she found one she felt an itch deep in her brain, like a memory trying to resurface. 

***

Muerto was playing with Ren, the black cat he named after his dear friend of the same name. He tossed a handmade mouse toy crafted by Niossa and it rolled into the wheat field nearby. Ren chased after it and Muerto chuckled.

“Ren, you act like a dog sometimes. I can’t believe I have a cat that plays fetch.”

He waited a moment for Ren to return, proudly clutching the mouse in her jaws. But the wheat field did not stir.

“Ren?”

He got to his feet and approached the field. Heart thumping, he pulled back the wheat which grew above his head. He was small for a coatl.

Ren was purring and rubbing herself against the paws of another dragon. A young gray guardian was barely hidden by the wheat. She giggled as the cat played with the blue silks draped over her body.

Muerto hissed and the guardian’s many aqua colored eyes turned toward him.

“Stay away from my cat!” He spat at her, his feathers poofing up.

The guardian tilted her head. “Oh. I’m sorry. We were only playing.”

“Yeah well, It’s time for Ren and I to go home so. Come on Ren!”

The guardian picked up the cat before she could move.

“No. This cat is mine now.”

“Uh no she’s not! Put her down!”

“It’s my Charge, understand? I can’t help it. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.”

“Fuck that! Give her back!” Muerto unsheathed his brandy new scythe. It was a gift from his talonok friend, Kuaka. He aimed it at the young guardian. And then time stopped.

The birds were silent. The wheat was frozen mid breeze. The guardian watched him, her multiple eyes narrowed in a glare. Ren was in the midst of a meow.

“Now, now, Muerto. I can’t let you harm my Sight.”

An umber colored spiral with ram shaped horns appeared beside Muerto. She was draped in red and green starsilk, and covered in gold jewelry. 

Muerto, finding that he could move, slashed his scythe at the spiral. It cut through her like she were a hologram. Dumbfounded, Muerto paused.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“What nasty language coming from a child. Makes me wish Eyespot swore,” The spiral sighed, and twitched her tail, her jewelry clanking as she did. “My name is Shira, I’m the head of the Order of Shapeshifters. AKA the Elders, AKA one of the oldest fuckers around. Besides your parents, and the angels.”

Muerto bristled. “How do you know who I am?”

“Oh that’s easy. Everyone knows who you are.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means,” Shira circled Muerto “That you’re important, and multidimensional beings like to talk.”

Muerto opened his mouth to speak but Shira cut him off.

“But this isn’t about you. Yes I know you, and my people like to gossip about your people. But that’s not what this is about. This is about her,” She turned toward the guardian. “See, she’s a shapeshifter like me. Not like your sister, or that purple one. We’re draconic shapeshifters.”

“Shut up. I don’t care,” Muerto growled. “Tell your friend to give my cat back.”

“Yeah that’s the problem isn’t it? I kinda can’t do that. You must understand, Eyespot is my Sight. I need her. I need her to remember.”

“What does that have to do with Ren?”

“It’s kind of a long story, and I don’t have all day. But if it’ll help you understand, I fucked up with Eyespot once, and I cannot afford to fuck up again. She’s destined to replace me. And I want to retire so badly. It’s not everyday a Sight is born, and I cannot afford to wait for another. If I retire without Eyespot knowing who she is, some idiot like Huttonia or Cetan will take my place and let’s just say there’s going to be a lot of problems throughout the multiverse if that happens.”

Shira clapped her hands and the wheat field started to shrivel and die. Eyespot and Ren lay as a pile of bones. The sky was blackened with smoke. In the distance the Lightweaver could be seen battling a giant spider. Shira clapped her hands again and the world returned to normal, but was still frozen.

“Eyespot has always been a troubling one. But she’s better than anyone else. Better than me. I tried to teach her a few life lessons but was admittedly a bit too harsh on her. Who would have guessed murdering her shitty boyfriend and making her powerless would make her hate me to the degree that she asked for well. This.” She gestured toward the dragon. “She asked for a second chance. And I will let her have it. Until she remembers.”

Muerto was still shaken by the vision, but he managed to calm himself enough to speak up.

“That doesn’t explain Ren. But I don’t care. Give her back.”

“No. Because everytime Eyespot collects a new cat she remembers a little more. Do you understand now, Muerto?”

“No. I don’t. There’s plenty of other black cats. I want mine back.”

“Sorry, but Eyespot has already decided that the cat is hers. And I’m afraid my interference will make things worse like I did before. I’m going with the hands off approach this time.”

“Give her back.”

“She’ll take good care of the cat. I can promise you that. And you can have the cat back as soon as Eyespot remembers.”

“Give her back!” Muerto picked up the scythe again, this time his black flames licked at the blade. He swung at the spiral again when her icy eyes stared into his own.

He dropped the scythe and the flames disappeared. He fell to his knees. That pain. He remembered that pain. He looked down and gasped.

A metal rod was sticking out of his chest, his heart pierced through. Blood pooled onto his feathers. He gasped for breath and fell over.

The birds continued their songs, and the wind breezed on. The pain disappeared, and when he looked down again, there was no metal and no blood. Only a silver scar that could barely be seen under the fluffy gray feathers.

The spiral was nowhere to be seen, and the guardian was gone too.

Muerto began to cry.

“Ren…”

He lost her again.

“Hey Muerto! I found something you might like- hey what’s wrong?” Niossa bounced toward him, holding a squirrel skull in her paws.

Muerto choked back a sob as tears dripped down his face.

“She took Ren.”

“Who?”

“I-I don’t know.” He took her paw in his, his body still shaking from the previous vision.

“Well which way did they-”

Muerto shook his head. “Don’t. I’ll explain later. I just…” He hugged her and sobbed into her shoulder.

She hugged him back. “Ok. Ok. Hugs now, talk later.” 

Meanwhile Eyespot traveled with Ren. She took a moment to examine her new cat.

“I think I like the name Axel for you.”

[threadsun]

JDA Asks: "STOP- STOP STOP STOP STOP—

-JDA HERE OK STOP IT STOP-

I LOVE HIM !! I LOVE Z SO MUCH ALREADY the uh— that one thingy about finding them all beated up at a random ally (or alley I have no idea English is so hard LMFAO—) sorta woke something in me should I be worried? yeah I should- also the thingy about easily flustered people was so sweet idk why,,,

Another question uh- do you have any headcanons for him? Okay wait let me— I like to think of random headcanons for my own Ocs then realize “wait they’re mine so technically they can be canon,,???” BUT ALSO NO??? LIKE LMFAO WHY WOULD I DO THAT LETS JUST KEEP IT AS A RANDOM FANTASY- idk if that made sense I just hope it’s understandable no don’t expect me to explain it again I have no idea how to put words together in order for them to make sense.

-silly example, that one fact about Bun liking reptiles started off as a joke with a friend then I started liking the idea turning it into a silly hc and now she’s just a reptile freak yeah fun-"

Yesssss!!! Seeing a pretty man in distress is so hot!!! Z simply looks very good bruised and bloody~

He goes feral for people who are easily flustered!! He sees someone cute and he needs to make them feel good!!

Oooooh yes, I know exactly what you mean!! Ummmm let's see... these all started as joke headcanons but then became canon:

He has absolutely shit eyesight. Like he needs very strong prescription glasses. Technically, he owns a pair, but he just doesn't bother to use them most of the time. Instead he just squints at everything, which makes him seem more intimidating than he actually is

If he gets part of him cut off, like his arm or something, he just boils a kettle and pours the water on the two bits that need to be reattached and then just... jams them together and waits for the clay to dry again?

Oooooh this one kinda goes back to the idea of turn offs, he once found out that a guy he was dating (a vampire named Charles) had previously dated his grandfather and he immediately dumped the guy. It was just too fuckin weird for him. His grandpa thought it was very funny though

(Just in general, his exes are very interesting imo. I've got like 12 or so of them fleshed out, and they're quite the line-up. Z has... some interesting tastes)

He and his spouse had a very romantic meet cute where Nik killed the guy who was beating Zander up, and Zander was not thrilled about it, but was very into the tiny angry person who just committed murder in front of him. And then Nik couldn't get rid of Z because he was enamoured with them

His grandfather (on the golem side) prefers to take the form of a cat so he can more easily keep an eye on Z. This does lead to Z picking up a giant fluffy grey cat and introducing him to people as his grandpa, 100% seriously and with no understanding that this may confuse people or make them think it's a joke

He was a baby at one point, and did sort of half do the whole "childhood and growing up" thing because his mum wanted him to, but once he hit about 14 he said fuck it and just kinda... became an adult. He didn't wanna have to deal with that bullshit anymore, and his mum had already sent him away to the circus when he was 10 so he realised he didn't have to be a child for her anymore

He loves worms, they're his favourite animal!

[sulky-valkyrie]

Welcome to DADWC!!!

Might I interest you in: "Hey, hey...look at me, okay? You gotta get up now, you think you might be able to walk? 'Cause they sent for back-up, and if they find us...we cannot let them find us, understand?"

for the pairing of your choice, BUT, I'ma be selfish and suggest your Tabris and her Anders. :)

alright, it's two months late and doesn't have the right pairing, but you said dealer's choice, so this is your fault 💙💙💙

for @dadrunkwriting

After Duncan headed off to meet up with the king for final preparations, Alistair gave her a friendly smile.

“Well, it’s not very glamorous, Kall-”

“Don’t call me that, shem,” she hissed.  “It's 'Tabris' or 'Warden,' you got it?  I don't use that name, and even if I did, I wouldn't give it to you.”

The human seemed oddly charmed by her vehemence.  He grimaced sympathetically.  "Sorry - is that an elf thing?”  He winced.  “No, that’s racist, I didn’t mean it like - shit.  Duncan's letter didn't mention you had - anyway, sorry.  I know a bit about names following you when you wish they wouldn't."

"Uh."  She hadn’t expected any kind of understanding.  She’d really just wanted to shut up him up, get this stupid tower lit, wait out this stupid battle, then figure out how soon she could sneak back to Denerim and kill Vaughan's cronies.  She looked away.  "Thanks."

"Hey, we're family now, right?"  Alistair’s arm wrapped around her shoulders.  "Wardens care for their own."

"You've only been one for six months," she snapped, fighting the urge to break his arm, or at least his hand.  It's not his fault, he didn't do it, he wasn't there.  Plus, the shem was huge.  She wasn't even sure if she could break his fingers unless he held them out and waited.  "How the void would you know?"

"Ooo, smart lady - no, that's sexy - uh, sexist."  He pulled his arm back sheepishly.  "But you're right.  I don't.  But even if I'm wrong, they should."  He frowned.  "Look, Tabris, I'm not - Duncan's probably a better person to talk to, or at least to listen to.  Honestly, I'm a bit of an idiot.  But I do still have two ears, and I can shut up and listen."  He waved a hand toward the valley; she could see Cailan’s golden armor shining in the sunset.  "Also, I'm a lot less important."

She'd had her fill of important people.  "I - good."  Why was he so damn nice?  No, he was kind.  That was worse.  Nice people were easier to hate.   And avoid.  They didn't actually care, or think they cared.  But this bloody shem in platemail really seemed to care about the murderous elf his boss had dragged in hissing and spitting like an angry wet cat.  Or maybe she'd been so exausted after all the walking across two thirds of Ferelden that she hadn't acted quite as ….ferally as she remembered.  Never trust important people.

"People like Duncan, or Teryn Loghain?" the ex-(failed?)Templar asked.

Maker, she was tired her mouth was moving without her permission.  Had it always been this bad or was she just so -

“Ris?  You okay?”  

She squinted up at him.  “What did you just call me?”

“I - sorry.  Tabris.  Nicknames, bad habit.  You should hear what I called all the animals where I grew up;  Lord High Fancy Britches Reginald the Fleetfooted or whatever and I started calling him Ned - but that was just to piss off the horsemaster really.  Oh shit, I don’t mean you’re like an animal, that’s - blast it.”  He blushed.  “I’m going to try again.  Tabris, are you okay?”

She shook her head.  “Just worn out,” she lied.

“Couple days of sleep and about thirty bowls of stew and you’ll be fine,” he said encouragingly.  “Maybe we can pick up a few snacks in the tower while we wait for our inglorious moment of following orders?” He glanced at the Tower of Ishal hopefully.  “Maybe they’ll have cheese.”

She hid a small smile.  He was funny and kind of sweet.  For a shem.  “Alright, let’s go.”  As they headed back toward the bridge, she could hear the sounds of the darkspawn horde advancing, and the shouts of defiance or fear from the troops below.  She was glad she wasn’t down there.  

“They’ve broken through!”  The cry came ahead of them.

Alistair slowed.  “That’s . . . not good.”  He glanced at Tabris.  “Guess this’ll be more glorious than we hoped.”

She snorted.  “Less glory, more gory.”

“Oooh, I like that!  Alliterative and rhyming!”  He unslung his shield.  “Anyway, I guess it’s time to do Grey Warden things.”

She pulled her blades out and followed.  The human bowled into the first group, knocking two off the cliff.  The remaining three immediately swung at him, which of course gave her the perfect opportunity to take one of them down herself.  As the last two died, one to Alistair’s longsword, and the other to Tabris kicking him over the cliff, flashed her a brief smile as before a scream from nearby startled them both.  Where were they all coming from?  How did so many of them get up here so quickly?  Could the darkspawn really plan that well?  Certainly some were intelligent, but . . . this seemed different.  

They rushed on, collecting a few of the soldiers as they went, plus one terrified mage healed their cuts and scrapes and kept repeating prayers to himself, even when Alistair tried to ask his name.  Fireballs and rocks rained from the sky, and one landed close enough to knock Tabris off her feet.  She sat there dazed for a few moments, unsure which way was up.

“Tabris, Tabris, hey, hey...look at me, okay? You gotta get up now, you think you might be able to walk?”  Alistair shook her gently as he waved the mage closer.  She nodded, then winced and touched her cheek.  It was tender, and her hand came away bloody.  The nameless mage, still muttering parts of the Chant to himself, healed the cut on her face, then backed away, eyes wild and terrified.  Her fellow Warden kept talking.  “It - Tabris, it looks like the darkspawn sent back up or reinforcements or something to the Tower, and we can’t - Ris, we have to get that beacon lit or the army will be overrun.  We need to keep going, they can’t find us until then, understand?”  He paused.  “We’re probably going to die, but we have to give Teryn Loghain the signal first.”

[indecentpause]

Find the Word

@sleepyowlwrites tagged me a million years ago to find: settle, sideways, sweep, sound. BONUS: supposedly, spacious.

These are all from The Most Beautiful Puzzle!

cw: murder scene, stalker mention, drug mention

settle(d):

“This is Crackerjack,” he says, gently stroking her ears. “She’s an ex feral cat, so she’s very loud, but also a little skittish, so if you do move in, just give her space and she’ll come to you when she’s ready. Never try to pick her up unless it’s an emergency. She hates it. I learned that the hard way.” He tugs the collar of his shirt to the side to show a few old claw marks that settled into scars.

You wince. “Oof.”

Josselin smiles and pulls his shirt back into place. “She’s actually really sweet. She just didn’t know me yet.”

sideways always:

“Oh, something I forgot,” he starts. He moves fully back into the space. He’s playing with the hem of his shirt, awkward, almost scared. “Um. I have epilepsy. So I can’t drive. I don’t expect you to take me anywhere! Buses and Lyfts are fine. But if you see me having a seizure, please don’t call 911 unless I’ve hit my head. I’ll be fine and I can’t afford an ambulance or ER visit I don’t need. If you change your mind and decide not to stay--”

“Of course I’ll stay.” You offer a smile. “At least for the first month. And I don’t mind driving you places every now and then if you need it, I just can’t promise I always can.”

Josselin’s shoulders slump in relief and he offers a tremulous smile. “Okay. Okay, that’s good. Thank you for understanding.”

“Yeah,” you say. Your smile turns a little softer, but just as kind, you hope. “If there’s anything I can do to help, or anything specifically you need or want me to do, just ask, okay?”

Josselin lights up and nods. He leans out of view again and comes back with the copy of the lease.

sweep:

“I think we should be looking in the locker rooms,” Josselin says. “The woman was in costume, which means she was probably somewhere near the field. She had to have changed somewhere.”

“One of my officers is currently talking to the head coach. We did a simple sweep of the locker room and found signs of a struggle. That’s what you’re here for. Lockers aren’t assigned, so we don’t know which she was using that day, or even if she was using one. She’d put her costume on over her street clothes, so it could be she was just going to change back in her room.”

“Take me to the locker rooms and field first,” Josselin says. The Inspector looks at you, like your opinion matters, and you shrug, leaning your weight on one crutch so you can gesture to Josselin. “He’s the expert.”

The inspector nods, rearranges the strap to his mask around his left ear, and turns away.

Again, you follow.

sound:

“These are from her nails,” he murmurs. “Whoever did this jumped her in here and dragged her out.” He continues to examine the stains, and after a moment, he whispers, “Oh, you fought so hard. You fought so hard.”

He stands back up and follows the trail, shining the light here and there, finding more splotches and splatters.

“And these--?”

“Swabbed and in evidence,” the Inspector says.

“Sounds like you’ve got what you need,” you say. “Why call Josselin down here?”

“Because,” the Inspector says, flipping the light back on, “the autopsy results came in, and say she died of a heroin overdose.”

“And this is definitely not a heroin overdose,” Josselin mumbles.

supposedly suppose:

“I’ve called Dona,” Josselin says. “He’s served the court papers personally, so your ex knows he’s not supposed to come near you. But since you haven’t had the hearing yet, there’s not much you can do. Legally.”

You peek out from under the blanket. Josselin sits down beside your hip, Familiar wiggling around in his arms. Franke stays standing, her hand on his shoulder.

“What do you mean, legally?”

“You can’t have him arrested. Yet,” Frankie says. She pulls something out of her purse and hands it over. You don’t grab it immediately, trying to figure out what it is.

“Taser,” she explains. “You’re technically supposed to have a license, but we can figure that out later.”

spacious space:

An officer approaches behind him and drops what looks like a very heavy hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t be here,” she says. Josselin turns around with a smile in his eyes.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, we can.” He pulls his mask down just long enough to take a swig from his can.

The officer is unimpressed.

“No, kid, you can’t. Look, I’m sorry it’s so hard to get in and out of the dorms, but this school is a potential crime scene, and it could still be danger--”

“No no no,” Josselin says, like he’s talking to a confused child. Oh god, he’s going to get you both tazed. “I’m with Inspector Montague. It’s okay. I can be here.”

The cop raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I’m his consulting detective,” he says, and he gestures back at you, on the other side of the yellow tape. “And this is my partner. We’re meeting him here.”

She calls him on the lie. “Nobody comes in until we finish our investigation,” she says firmly. She drops her hand from his shoulder and rests it on her belt, far too close to her taser for your liking. His head doesn’t move, but his eyes dart down, then back up to her face.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, as if abashed. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble or confusion. I’m helping the Inspector with the investigation. I apologize, I should have said that right awa--”

“Then you’ll know the Dean has said nobody gets past the public spaces until your Inspector gets a warrant,” she says. “Nobody in the private areas until then. Even if you did come through, you couldn’t get into anything useful.”

tagging @sleepyowlwrites back, along with @kaiusvnoir @klywrites and @drippingmoon (if you want) to find cat, hoarse, smile, and stripe!

[blondrichclosetwitch]

NR 77 2/2/17

So he is working at saam.

I mean let’s remember you led me around the collar for weeks, before. Right?

(Braced) So is this an alternative world?

(transmission)

So he is at saam bar.

So she led me to taylor swift?

(the month before i downloaded taylor swift for the first time, had never heard her before; she was Katie’s all-time favorite, my brother just told me; months earlier Jakk had come over and made me great food out of nothing, and told me I should give 1989 a listen. out of the woods was the first song out of any song I listened to over and over, and I stood there in my living room in December, understanding there was something I was to get, but not clear on what or why)

That’s hilarious.

And he wants to be with me as much as i do right?

(transmission)

So the problem is what exactly?

Her pregnancy?

Because i..you don’t see maggie _______ saying *anything* about it.

(transmission)

Maggie is done with being involved?

(transmission)

She’s trying to get away from the witchcraft? From the connection?

Is Blond still keeping an eye out to see if i’m doing anything with tantra? She just looks on backpage tho?

(transmission)

She just looks for my work name. And my phone number.

So if i switched my number? And my name? Do you think i would be safe?

(transmission)

No. she’s gonna look. She wants to ruin it for me.

Does jakk ____ _____ ___ _______?

So what is…what is the situation? How are we supposed to proceed? You’re saying going the way we’re doing things…but why was i thrown that vision again yesterday, why did you wake me that way?

(transmission)

Because jakk made you?

I don’t understand ..i mean because then…it’s like everyday is a test.

But then you made that orgasm go into my heart, and then you had the tree fill me up to the tops of my eyes.

(so this was a new piece. I was told to have the branch from the tree under my feet, along with the pendulum in my mouth, which caused some sort of wild reaction which i would describe as feral yet not completely human-sounding.) it’s like i’m going through a modern-day….witch school. And he is too.

(to cat) that’s not water you’re supposed to drink, that’s to suck up the negativity in the room.

Which family do you think is going to work out? They need someone good.

Steady job. Is that the job you want me to take? Really? You don’t want me to take the two greenpoint ones? I mean if they’re gonna pay me like…..24 an hour, i’ll take it. And then i could work on my writing. He’d sleep all the time.

I mean i’ll have to follow how i feel. Cause like…if i can make 800 a week… what month is it? I’d say, til september. I mean i think i should plan on doing it until only september, because i’m planning on going to italy in october.

But when we were looking at the pictures of who rachel ______was, you had the wrong woman as rachel ______. So what does that say? You know?

I’m a little confused. I don’t know what it says. Like i said to katie, i found that confusing.

I think what i know at the very least, unless jakk has turned off his heart….jakk loves me…and…this woman….there’s something deeply wrong with her. Like deeply deeply deeply wrong with her.

Why is it that Katie can open this channel between us? What is that? What is that? I send him something, and..he opens it…and i feel him reading it, and his heart pulsating. I don’t think anyone else is having the experience that the three of us are having. Has anyone else had the experience? This is unique, right? This thing that is going on between me and him and her. She is like this tie (starts crying) that i can’t explain to anyone.

Wait is this katie now?

Katie is this you?

(fully crying) i don’t understand, but i know it’s real. I know that you keep doing things that are real, and i don’t know..and all i want …..and what, he can *see* me? He can see me? Like…can he see that i’m on the couch crying right now?

So he can see me…but i can talk to him. (breaks into laughter)

Ok i need to write, let’s get some poster board. You, my love, are going to help me figure this out. Did the double action candle do some work to secure his job, can he feel that?

(transmission)

So he has a magic wand, is that correct? So Random had him get a magic wand? And he can see me…..does he keep it in his bag?

And Random taught him how to use it?

(transmission)

And you taught him how to use it. You and random taught him how to use it.

So he can hear me. He can hear everything that i say.

Ok so…you and Random taught him how to use it. For real? (cracks up)

So is that part of the reason that he was able to break Blond’s spells?

So speaking of…….ok. So he has a magic wand. Does he have the other tools of the Magician?

(end of tape)

NR78 2/2/17

(quietly) Jakk?

Are you ok?

Katie told me to send you a picture, was that ok?

Is everything ok?

Are you missing me?

I’m missing you too.

You can’t really talk to me though. You have to work. I know that you need to stay focused.

I don’t know. I can’t tell.

Katie, i can’t tell. My connection is strong with you. You say he wants to talk to me……it’s like i said….i can’t tell. I really can’t.

(end of tape)

[dishtothedeath]

But let me tell you brother, Still waters go stagnant // Fergus // Trial 2.2 // Re: Sopping wet beast

Fergus wants to be angry. And not just angry, he wants to be enraged. He wants to snap and scream and shout, throw around threats like sowing seeds, punch his fists raw on the table, find someone to take it all out on. But it’s all stuck inside him, sucked into a vortex somewhere in his center, in the same place where all his thoughts and focus seem to have disappeared.

It’s usually so easy for him to be angry about things. And that’s good. Since angry means focused. Angry means alert.  Angry means safe. Angry means defiant. What is a cornered animal fighting for its life, if not angry at everything that led it here, to this moment? Hedgehog’s bristles, dog’s bared teeth, claws of a feral cat, he wants his anger to guard him and those he has the misfortune of loving.

Without anger, he’s nothing if not declawed and defanged.

As Yukari brings up the golf ball, Fergus almost jolts from surprise from being addressed, again having lost his concentration somewhere over yonder.

“Oh, aye, now I remember, the golf ball that ye slipped on… right..” He doesn’t even realise he wasn’t supposed to say this part out loud, just nodding absent-mindedly.

Before he understands his mistake, he moves on, trying to catch up again.

“Maybe the killer was trying to save M.. him, but, well, like I said ‘fore, CPR can look rough as hell if ye do it right. Charybdis’ ribs were broken. That better tell ye how roughly they were being treated… Wouldn’t be surprised if someone unaccustomed would freak out and.. “

And kill. Yeah. He doesn’t even need to say that part out loud, now does he? He takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair, arms still crossed on his chest.

“Oh, right, the killer’s probably still wet…” he frowns at the realization. Fergus himself is dripping all over the place, not having even bothered to dry himself. “I went into the pool to look for evidence, and then I fished out Emil, who some-fuckin-how managed to fall in… which.. hm..” He pauses for a moment, before shaking his head. “ I can’t say I look blameless on that front. But I don’t have anything in my pockets, and I don’t wear heavy shoes...” 

All Fergus says seems to be true. If someone peeks under the table they see him wearing flip flops, and as he empties his pockets on the table… well, there’s nothing there to be emptied.

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

More sole survivor headcanons (at least for my own little fish freak)

LONG POST

might even add more later, when people aren’t trying to talk to me.

She cannot travel alone. She will get twitchy and more on edge and start to think about things she doesn’t want to think about. Closest thing she has to therapy is trauma dumping on curie and she feels bad about doing that.

She lost pretty much everyone except codsworth in a DAY, she’s scared of being alone again and afraid of loss. She knew something was wrong with her the moment she found herself ready to attack and hide from any noise she heard before finding codsworth, but she thought it was because she didn’t have her medication anymore. She started to think it might be something new in addition to her past issues when she first tried to go somewhere alone, just for a bit, and started to feel like a feral cat who was cornered.

She has nightmares and insomnia.

Once she learned that some people survived as ghouls a small part of her brain has keept thinking about how she doesn’t really know what happened to her parents and siblings because she had moved to a different part of the country for school and marriage. The voice at the back of her mind keeps reminding her that someone might still be alive back there, what we would call states away, but the map was different for her.

She already had a history with depression and anxiety, this made things both easier and harder. She already knew some behavioral therapy, but was now unmedicated and had just experienced even worse trauma.

She barely ate or slept until they found kellogg and after realizing she didn’t have anything to chase, no hints or trails, she finally fell apart. That was her rock bottom and she wouldn’t leave ANY of her friends (and family, codsworth you are oldest fam alive, complicated then future dynamic with Shaun the first excluded) for longer than it took to use the bathroom. That was understandably annoying for her new friends but she started to get at least a little more put together as she made more friends and any progress on finding her son. She latched on to nick in a particularly interesting way. seeing him as a sort of father figure.

After killing Kellogg she struggled with trying to avoid alcoholism. She knew her family had a history of addiction and was scared of getting it herself. She knows how easy it is to use drugs as an escape, to self medicate, because her own brother struggled with it. It makes her more sensitive to the topic. She’s also had friends who had less than healthy coping mechanisms pre-war, regardless of her field of work, I mean, she could have been a defense attorney (I haven’t decided. It would be funny with her seeing nick as a dad though XD) Supporting people who have problems with it also reminds her of her family (in a really sad way). She’s even more scared of having it herself because she no longer gets her prescription drugs (pharmacy exploding and all that) but does pretty well, you can’t miss something you never tried! Right? Right??? Unfortunately she has tried alcohol.

Why I don’t say her finding Shaun the first and learning that he was involved in some fucked up shit and grew up without her was not her lowest point: she knew where her son was, she had a new goal (convince son to stop hurting people as much. Didn’t really work, but it was something) and she had more friends and had had more time to start to process the other deaths.

She gets sensitive when it comes to robots. Codsworth was her only family for awhile after all. Not in the sense of fighting any, she has fought some of everything at this point, it’s more when they get pushed around (which you know, is pretty standard. You look at something like you would a toaster and that’s how things go🤷‍♀️) she’s probably seen as a little weird because of that, but she is weird so it’s not like she cares too much. She’s more like that with some types of robot than others. She’s still biased 🤷‍♀️

She also doesn’t have trouble seeing synths as people, especially gen 3, because she’s just autistic about it. Do you call one identical twin a copy? One less of a person? No. This is like that at its core! There is just a lot more fucked up around that… like the replacing people. Not the synths faults though. She actually feels bad for them and the situations they get put in.

She likes to gnaw on things, especially after becoming a fish-woman. It’s a stim that gets her some weird looks.

The moment she realized Shaun had basically cloned himself and made a second Shaun her brain decided she just had two kids now, kind of like when rescues will give a momma cat an orphaned kitten. Different circumstances same vibes.

Her eyes reflect light, that changed with her other features as an adaptation for seeing in dark water. It can startle people.

She seems very social because of her loneliness and eagerness for helping others (it gives her a purpose besides ‘find son’) but she’s actually very nervous about interacting with others. She copes by seeing introductions as a performance and not just, awkward social interaction.

She’s a 5’3 toothpick of a woman and thus prefers ranged combat.

She was afraid of heights and still gets nervous at a certain point, but she’s gradually gotten used to the idea of high up=safe, hard to reach, defendable. Thus, she can occasionally be found chilling in strange places off the ground.

In the months before she got kicked out of the institute she may or may not have gone around stealing data. Copying files, what have you. No one asked her to, she just does that. Her room at the castle is full of boxes with files and hollotapes like a pirated library. This has happened almost every where she goes, even if she doesn’t actually steal anything, she’s a serial computer hacker. You can stop a fish from swimming ;3 can’t stop a nerd from asking questions.

That last headcanon was developed before I did far harbor and makes it incredibly funny when dima gets mad that you destroyed all that knowledge. My oc is just standing there like “you’d think that, wouldn’t you” the fact that you can’t say you stole it (since it’s not canon) makes it extra funny because she probably would withhold that information from a stranger, sort of estranged uncle? or not. She also set off the evacuation alarms before destroying the institute and has encountered survivors. Two OTHER things you can’t tell him. Basically it’s like “you destroyed the information” and she’s like ‘perhaps’

not to mention that her SON is a gen 3 synth, obviously she would want all the info she could get. It’s not like there are guide books for “how to parent a different human subspecies and the differences in morphology” at least not unless she writes one.

Being like “Is this an uncle?” And then learning he also replaced someone is like, again? This keeps happening. (Average person has zero mysterious relatives who replace people with copies of them. Replacing people relatives georg(s) are outliers and should not be counted)

she has a grudge against elder maxson and he probably barely knows who she is.

Fun fact I think is funny, she has pacified many creatures, including every type of mirelurk except queens. This means she has basically had the same control over every type except the queens… who control the others… she is a fish usurper.

I as the player couldn’t make myself do nuka world or join the brotherhood because “makes me feel bad and that’s not fun” :/ I still haven’t finished she railroad quest line though because I know they have brainwashed kids on there and it also treats me apart. Nothing happens if you just ignore finishing it in the game, but I imagine she’d have to make a decision at some point if all that was actually happening, and she’s going to side with her family and settlers, so maxson gets no genocide in her timeline.

“Oh but fallout is a post-apocalyptic game and you can’t always make perfect moral choices” I know a lot of people didn’t care about Shaun the first, but I am a softie who was focused on exactly one thing until Kellogg died… well…. Until I blew him up, and so it wasn’t easy for me to do the (in my opinion) right thing and blow the institute up. I’m having fun but I still make decisions I think are hard in the game, I just avoid some because I can 😅 that’s not mentioning smaller decisions.

She found pickman disturbing, it definitely traumatized her more, but I think it might have done something to her too considering the fact that she has dismembered corpses and arranged them to leave a message at least once… she’s not okay and we all break at some point. More than once. Several times actually.

This is getting way too long so I’ll stop. I understand if you unfollow me for my blorbo infodumping

Again, these are all headcanon and or ways I played my character. This doesn’t have to be yours and you don’t have to like it.