#settler wanderer

[bellonathedragonborn]

Happy Late Valentines Day from Emma and her girlfriend (the settler wanderer).

#fallout #fallout 76 #valentines day #fallout OC Emma #lgbt #wlw love #settler wanderer

[neechees]

Wandering Spirit & his men's graves & memorial still get vandalized to this day by settlers 200 years later btw. That's how settler White Canadians treat First Nations who fought back

#'what if Native Americans did something like-' #ih you mean like Wandering Spirit who held settler hostages & killed the Indian agent for starving Crees? #or Pretty Nose who knocked General Custer off his horse? or the Cheyenne women who shoved seeing awls in his ears? #or the American Indian Movement #or John Trudell who's emtire family was assassinated by the government? #or Louis Riel? #or Bartolina Sisa?

[thethief1996]

Israel has cut water, electricity and food to Palestinians in Gaza. They are buying 10.000 M16 rifles and plan to distribute to civilian settlers in the West Bank to hunt down Palestinians. They're bombing the only way out of Gaza through Egypt, after telling refugees to flee through it, and have threatened the Egyptian government in case they let aid trucks pass through. Entire families, generations, are being wiped out and left to wander the streets hoping they don't get bombed.

Palestinians are using their last minutes of battery to let the world know about their genocide and are being met with a wall of "What about Hamas? What about the beheaded babies? Killing children on either side is bad!" even though the propaganda claims have been debunked over and over again. How cruel is it to ask somebody to condemn themselves before their last words? Or before grieving the loss of their entire families? When there's no such disclaimer to Israelis even though their government has shown over and over genocidal intent? Like who are you even trying to appease? What will your wishy washy statement do against decades of zionist thought infiltrating evangelical and Jewish stablishmemts?

Take action. Israel will fall back if public opinion turns its tide. The UK fell back on its bloody decision to cut aid to Palestine under public scrutiny. The USAmerican empire spends $3.8 billion dollars annually solely on this proxy war while its people suffer under a progressively military regime as well. News outlets are canceling last minute on Palestinian speakers while letting Israelis tell lies unchecked. Palestinian refugees are being targeted in ICE establishments and mosques are already being hounded by the FBI. France and Germany have banned pro-Palestine protests, while Netherlands and the UK have placed restrictions . You have the chance to stop this from turning into repeat of the Iraq war.

I want to do something but there's hardly anything for me to do from Brasil besides spreading the word and not letting these testimonies fall on deaf ears. I'm asking you to do this same ant work from wherever you are.

Follow:

Eye On Palestine (instagram / twitter)

Mohammed El-Kurd (instagram / twitter)

Decolonize Palestine (website with a chronological explanation of the occupation and debunking myths)

Muhammad Shehada (twitter)

Plestia Alaqad (directly from Gaza. Many of her videos are interrupted by bombs)

If there's a protest in your city, please attend. Here's an international calendar of events:

Friday, October 13

ALBUQUERQUE, NM (US) – Fri Oct. 13, 3 pm, UNM Bookstore, University of New Mexico. Organized by Southwest Coalition for Palestine.

BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA (US) – Fri Oct 13, 6 pm, Sproul Hall (Vigil), University of California Berkeley. Organized by Bears for Palestine.

DOUAIS, FRANCE – Fri Oct 13, 6:30 pm, Place de’Armes.

GOTHENBURG, SWEDEN – Fri Oct 13, 5:30 pm, Brunnsparken. Organized by Palestinska samordningsgruppen Gothenburg.

GREENSBORO, NC (US) – Fri Oct. 13, 4 pm, Wendover Village, 4203 W Wendover Ave, Greensboro, NC. Organized by Muslims for a Better NC.

LONDON, ENGLAND – Fri Oct 13, 5 pm, Keir Starmer’s Office, Crowndale Center, 218 Eversholt St, London. Organized by IJAN UK.

MEANJIN/BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct 13, 6 pm, King George Square.

MIAMI, FL (US) – Fri Oct 13, 4:30 pm, Bayfront Park. Organized by Troika Kollectiv.

NAPOLI, ITALY – Fri Oct 13, 4:30 pm, Piazza Garibaldi, Napoli. Organized by GPI and Centro Culturale Handala Ali.

NGUNNAWAL/CANBERRA, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct 13, 5:30 pm, Carema Place.

PERTH/BOORLOO, AUSTRALIA – Fri Oct. 13, 5:30 pm, Murray Street Hall, Boorloo/Perth. Organized by Friends of Palestine WA.

PORTLAND, OREGON (US) – Fri Oct 13, 3 pm, 1200-1220 SW 5th Ave, Portland.

PORT RICHEY, FL (US) – Fri Oct 13, 7:30 am, Route 19 and Ridge Road, Port Richey. Sponsored by: Florida Peace Action Network; Partners for Palestine; CADSI

PRETORIA, SOUTH AFRICA – Friday, Oct. 13, 7 pm, UP Main Campus, DSA Building opposite Thuto. Organized by PSC UP.

WITSWATERSRAND UNIVERSITY (SOUTH AFRICA) – Fri Oct 13, 1 pm, Great Hall Piazza, Flag demonstration. Organized by Wits PSC.

Saturday, October 14

ABERDEEN, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct. 14, 2 pm, St. Nichlas Square. Organized by Scottish PSC.

AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, Aotea Square, Queens St, 291-2997 Queen St. Organized by PSN Aotearoa.

DETROIT/DEARBORN, MICHIGAN (US) – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, Ford Woods Park, 5700 Greenfield Road. Organized by SAFE, PYM, SJP, Handala Coalition, more.

DUNDEE, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct. 14, 2 pm, Place TBA. Organized by Scottish PSC.

EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND – Sat, Oct 14, 2 pm, Princes Street at Foot of the Mound. Organized by Scottish PSC.

FRANKFURT, GERMANY – Sat Oct 14, 3 pm Hauptwache, Frankfurt am Main. Sponsored by Palestina eV, Migrantifa Rhein-Main and more.

GLASGOW, SCOTLAND – Sat. Oct 14, 2 pm, Buchanan Steps. Organized by Scottish PSC.

HOUSTON, TEXAS (US) – Sat Oct 14, 2 pm, City Hall, 901 Bagby St. Organizd by PYM, PAC, USPCN, SJP and more.

LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND – Sat Oc 14, 12 pm, Church St. Organized by FRFI.

LONDON, ENGLAND – Sat Oct 14, 12 pm, BBC Portland Place, London. Organized by a broad coalition.

MILANO, ITALY – Sat. Oct 14, 3:30 pm, Piazza San Babila. Organized by Young Palestinians of Italy, UDAP, Palestinian Community, Association of Palestinians.

ORLANDO, FLORIDA – Sat Oct 14, 3 pm, Lake Eola at Robinson and Eola, Orland. Organized by Florida Palestine Network.

TORINO, ITALY – Sat. Oct. 14, 3 pm, Piazza Crispi. Organized by Progetto Palestina.

VALPARAISO, CHILE – Sat Oct 14, 6 pm, Plaza Victoria, Valparaiso. Organized by Comite Chileno de Solidaridad con Palestina.

WASHINGTON, DC (US) – Sat Oct 14, 1 pm, Lafayette Square. Organized by AMP.

Sunday, October 15

AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS – Sun Oct 15, 2 pm, March from Dam Square to Jonas Daniel Meijer plein.

NAARM/MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, State Library Victoria.

TARDANYA/ADELAIDE, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, 2 pm, Parliament House.

AUSTIN, TEXAS (US) – Sun Oct 15, 3 pm, Texas Capitol. Organized by PSC ATX.

GADIGAL/SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – Sun Oct 15, 1 pm, Sydney Town Hall.

SANTIAGO, CHILE -Sun Oct 15, 11 am, Plaza Dignidad, Santiago. Organized by Comite Chileno de Solidaridad con Palestina.

#save palestine #free palestine #save gaza #save sheikh jarrah #save silwan #ask to tag

[broomsick]

List of interesting ressources pertaining to norse paganism, scandinavian folklore and history, and nordic religions in general

These are sources I have personally used in the context of my research, and which I've enjoyed and found useful. Please don’t mind if I missed this or that ressource, as for this post, I focused solely on my own preferences when it comes to research. I may add on to this list via reblog if other interesting sources come to my mind after this has been posted. Good luck on your research! And as always, my question box is open if you have any questions pertaining to my experiences and thoughts on paganism.

Mythology

The Viking Spirit: An Introduction to Norse Mythology and Religion

Dictionnary of Northern Mythology

The Prose and Poetic Eddas (online)

Grottasöngr: The Song of Grotti (online)

The Poetic Edda: Stories of the Norse Gods and Heroes

The Wanderer's Hávamál

The Song of Beowulf

Rauðúlfs Þáttr

The Penguin Book of Norse Myths: Gods of the Vikings (Kevin Crossley-Holland's are my favorite retellings)

Myths of the Norsemen From the Eddas and the Sagas (online) A source that's as old as the world, but still very complete and an interesting read.

The Elder Eddas of Saemung Sigfusson

Pocket Hávamál

Myths of the Pagan North: Gods of the Norsemen

Lore of the Vanir: A Brief Overview of the Vanir Gods

Anglo-Saxon and Norse Poems

Gods of the Ancient Northmen

Gods of the Ancient Northmen (online)

Two Icelandic Stories: Hreiðars Þáttr and Orms Þáttr

Two Icelandic Stories: Hreiðars Þáttr and Orms Þáttr (online)

Sagas

Two Sagas of Mythical Heroes: Hervor and Heidrek & Hrólf Kraki and His Champions (compiling the Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks and the Hrólfs saga kraka)

Icelandic Saga Database (website)

The Saga of the Jómsvíkings

The Heimskringla or the Chronicle of the Kings of Norway (online)

Stories and Ballads of the Far Past: Icelandic and Faroese

Heimskringla: History of the Kings of Norway

The Saga of the Volsungs: With the Saga of Ragnar Lothbrok

The Saga of the Volsungs (online) Interesting analysis, but this is another pretty old source.

The Story of the Volsungs (online) Morris and Magnusson translation

The Vinland Sagas

Hákon the Good's Saga (online)

History of religious practices

The Viking Way: Magic and Mind in Late Iron Age Scandinavia

Nordic Religions in the Viking Age

Agricola and Germania Tacitus' account of religion in nordic countries

Myths and Symbols in Pagan Europe: Early Scandinavian and Celtic Religions

Tacitus on Germany (online)

Scandinavia and the Viking Age

Viking Age Iceland

Landnámabók: Book of the Settlement of Iceland (online)

The Age of the Vikings

Gesta Danorum: The Danish History (Books I-IX)

The Sea Wolves: a History of the Vikings

The Viking World

Guta Lag: The Law of the Gotlanders (online)

The Pre-Christian Religions of the North This is a four-volume series I haven't read yet, but that I wish to acquire soon! It's the next research read I have planned.

Old Norse Folklore: Tradition, Innovation, and Performance in Medieval Scandinavia

Children of Ash and Elm: A History of the Vikings

The Penguin Historical Atlas of the Vikings by John Haywood

Landnámabók: Viking Settlers and Their Customs in Iceland

Nordic Tales: Folktales from Norway, Sweden, Finland, Iceland and Denmark For a little literary break from all the serious research! The stories are told in a way that can sometimes get repetitive, but it makes it easier to notice recurring patterns and themes within Scandinavian oral tradition.

Old Norse-Icelandic Literature: A Short Introduction

Saga Form, Oral Prehistory, and the Icelandic Social Context

An Early Meal: A Viking Age Cookbook and Culinary Oddyssey

Runes & Old Norse language

Uppland region runestones and their translations

Viking Language 1: Learn Old Norse, Runes, and Icelandic Sagas and Viking Language 2: The Old Norse Reader

Catalogue of the Manks Crosses with Runic Inscriptions

Old Norse - Old Icelandic: Concise Introduction to the Language of the Sagas

A Companion to Old Norse-Icelandic Literature and Culture

Nordic Runes: Understanding, Casting, and Interpreting the Ancient Viking Oracle 

YouTube channels

Ocean Keltoi

Arith Härger

Old Halfdan

Jackson Crawford

Wolf the Red

Sigurboði Grétarsson

Grimfrost

(Reminder! The channel "The Wisdom of Odin", aka Jacob Toddson, is a known supporter of pseudo scientific theories and of the AFA, a folkist and white-supremacist organization, and he's been known to hold cult-like, dangerous rituals, as well as to use his UPG as truth and to ask for his followers to provide money for his building some kind of "real life viking hall", as supposedly asked to him by Óðinn himself. A source to avoid. But more on that here.)

Websites

The Troth

Norse Mythology for Smart People

Voluspa.org

Icelandic Saga Database

Skaldic Project

Life in Norway This is more of a tourist's ressources, but I find they publish loads of fascinating articles pertaining to Norway's history and its traditions.

#ressources #masterpost #heathenry #research #sources #norse paganism #norse gods #spirituality #polytheism #deity work #pagan #paganism #deities #norse polytheism #mythology #eddas #sagas

[thewastelandlosers]

Gonna be refurbishing and redesign this old Fallout oc of mine:

'Once a high confessor for a New York Children of Atom faction, now a lost shepherd without his flock, Mortas wanders the wastes in search for new followers to form and control. He never goes into large settlements due to his concerning attire making settlers nervous and sometimes can be seen hovering outside a few just to trade with the caravans'

#got a few old fallout ocs that ill either just not bother with or redesign everything about them or even better frankestine some together #Mortas was an old fave of mine that I mostly kept to myself but now i think hed be a great interaction for Jeremy #fallout oc #fallout art #fallout #fallout 3 #fallout 4 #fallout children of atom #children of atom oc

[ranticore]

the sea is a terrible place (or: here's some scary natural phenomena found in the sea of Siren)

The false reflection, mostly encountered by deep-diving phocids. This phenomenon occurs when ultra dense high saline water gathers in underwater brine pools on the sea floor. It appears reflective, like a mirror. Down in the deep, the only way you can see at all is to take some form of luminescence with you, which obscures the pool and shows you nothing but another phocid below, holding a light source. It's common for pelagic people to be unfamiliar with their own facial markings and reflection. They mistake the reflection as another phocid, or a ghostly apparition, and reach out. But the salinity of the brine pool is such that even touching it can scald the skin, especially as all mammals on siren are adapted to low salt conditions and require far far less salt than unaltered humans.

The abyss, of course. Most of the sea of Siren is not as deep on average as the sea on Earth. But there are cracks and trenches in the sea floor that go down, and down, and down... they are poorly explored (though the first settlers did send drones down) and sites of myth and legend for swimmers. The abyss is not usually dangerous, since it's easy to just not go down there, but sometimes the cracks seem to inhale and exhale - natural flows of groundwater, or attempts to fill a vacuum caused by a different crack releasing gas. So swimming over certain cracks might result in you being dragged down unexpectedly into the anoxic zone near the sea floor in the region... or it might result in you being unexpectedly shot up. These events are incredibly rare and usually passed off as tall tales, some selkie who claims to have flown due to being propelled into the sky

The snowstorm... an event that occurs when the sediment is agitated enough to completely white out the water. If the particles are the right size, echolocation clicks bounce back immediately, making sight and echo useless. Phocids and selkies trapped in the snowstorm could lose situational awareness and forget which way is up very easily, and the instant bounce-back of echo clicks is deeply unpleasant, giving the illusion of being 1 inch from swimming straight into a solid wall.

Shriekers. This is an issue where ice caps, glaciers etc meet the water. The ice cracks and breaks, and to sensitive phocid and selkie ears it's an unbearable shriek that can render them disoriented and deaf at long range, and break eardrums at close range. Around the ice wall, there's an almost constant background noise of screaming.

The false sky. A phenomenon that occurs when a swimmer loses situational awareness, and ends up diving deeper and deeper thinking that they're about to come up for air. The reduced gravity of siren means that it's more difficult under the water to feel gravity, resulting in a more weightless sensation than on Earth. Occasionally, a natural biolumescence in deep water may produce an illusion of the sky viewed through the turbid water, making the disoriented swimmers even more certain that they are travelling up, when really they are diving. In Spiral mythos this is treated as a specific type of mania.

The wanderer.. it looks like a phocid swimming in the distance. You hail them, click at them, wave your lantern, but they don't respond. If you get closer, they'll flee. This is a really common story among nearly all pelagic people worldwide, and what they are seeing are the vanishingly rare aquatic zeta, those who did not adapt to becoming terrestrial and became extremely solitary, so they were not able to regain language due to not having complex cultures and societies anymore. They resemble smaller, hairy phocids and are considered a type of (for lack of a better word?) fairy or trickster spirit in Spiral culture, a false friend leading you astray.

The flesh cloud. This is a mass of deceased scalefish, the hagfish-like animals which make up many of the fish shoals on Siren. If they enter an anoxic zone unexpectedly (if chased, pushed by currents, or just unlucky) they can die in large numbers, forming a tangled, decaying mass that drifts through the seas. These are heralds of rot and disease and the water around them is filthy and unclean, an infection risk for any swimmer with an open cut. Sometimes large nets are set up to catch and redirect them.

Sharp sand. Some substrate is made of silica and appears glittery, like fairy dust. When water mixes, these can form plumes which are hundreds of feet tall. They're not dangerous in and of themselves, but you had better make sure you close your eyes around it, no matter how pretty the dancing glitter might be. A common cause of corneal ulceration and abrasion.

Cherta's Tide. This is a big one. Tides are slow and rare most of the time, mixing the water and enabling life to flourish. But every so often, there are two different tides that come round, which can be predicted based on which moon is most prominent in the sky for the duration. Ishmael's Tide is a high water apocalyptic event, but there are many monitoring stations and contingencies to avoid it. Cherta's Tide (similar to a neap tide) is far more unpredictable and occurs irregularly, as the moon Cherta is smaller, darker, and harder to see. This tide is a low-water event. Vast stretches of the sea floor are laid bare and the underwater ridges suddenly become towering cliffs and barriers for people who can't fly. This can last for weeks at a time, and without the water of course most animal populations who can't hide in substrate take a huge hit. It can happen fast enough to strand a swimmer at the top of a ridge, nothing but air below all the way to what was once the sea floor, and they might be stranded, unreachable, and without food or water for a fatal period of time.

#i made these as a challenge to myself because i didn't want to rely on 'it's scary because monsters are there' #the sea ITSELF is scary #setting: siren #speculative biology

[angelynmoon]

Back on my eldritch monster Steve bs

Part 6

-

They don't tell Hopper and Joyce, not right away at least because Steve is wary of the Russian they bring home, oh Steve could easily eat him and feel no guilt about it if he reacts badly but Eddie told him that he wasn't allowed to eat people.

El had amended it by saying he was allowed to eat bad people, which had led to arguments about cannabalism and the morality of it.

Steve didn't want to point out that he wasn't human so it didn't count, mostly because he really didn't want to add fuel to the fire, he was also not telling them about the fact that his kind had regularly ate one another and he'd been considered odd because he didn't hunt or eat his own kind, not even when he'd slaughtered them but it was amusing to see the arguments.

Steve doesn't mind keeping the secret, he's kept what he was hidden for so long, he's never told anyone really, they always just knew he wasn't human; wasn't right.

Even some of the people he rarely interacted with had known, stayed clear of him, some of the older folks, the ones that decended from the first ones to settle in Hawkins would even walk across the street to avoid him.

They knew he was Other, knew it down in their very bones.

Hawkins had been strange long before Brenner had opened a rift to the Down Below.

Unnatural things had been happening here since long before White Settlers had come, the natives knowing better than to linger, lest something make sure they never escaped.

No one cared to learn that the first few towns near Hawkins had vanished without so much as a bloodstain, houses left untouched, food left to rot and clothes left on the lines to dry but Steve knew, he'd known as soon as he'd crawled into this Upper World that he was not the first.

He'd be the last, of course, he would but there was another, somewhere, wandering among the mortals.

Steve had never bothered to look for them, didn't want to know them or even reveal himself to them. Part of him was afraid they'd attack him outright and Steve would really become the last of his kind, because that was not a fight he would lose, not with his family counting on him for protection.

Another part of him worried that they'd want to pair and spawn more of their own kind, raise them like they'd been raised, to hunt and eat and leave nothing but wasteland in their wake.

That had never been Steve's ideal to raise his spawn, he'd just wanted them to live, he'd wanted to raise them gentle, and loving, but life was cruel and his spawn had never broke from their cocoons.

Steve knew that they'd have to tell Joyce and Hopper eventually but right now he liked having only his kids in the know.

They were curious but their questions had less to do with what he could do, what he'd done and more to do with trying tp give him a dustpans and dinosaus name, they asked what he looked like, begged to see it with various puppy eyes that Steve forced himself to resist, if they really saw him they'd be scared.

Steve didn't want them to fear him, had never wanted to be feared at all, it was why he'd kept himself to himself in the Down Below, away from others of his kind and their expectations.

But he really should have known that his peace would not last.

Like calls to like, after all, and he should have known that he would come across the other one of his kind eventually, he had just not quite expected who the other turned out to be, but, well, it made a certain amount of sense all things considered.

--

A/n: I already know who I want to be the other Eldritch creature but feel free to throw guesses.

@addelyin @merricatty @lesbiabrobin @apuckishwit @0o-mushroom-o0 @starlight-archer @darkwitchoferie @just-a-tiny-void @swimmingbirdrunningrock @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @goodolefashionedloverboi @adhdsummer @purpleanimeoverart @space-invading-pigeon @lilaclilyroses @nohomoyesbi @plantzzsandpencilzzs @korixae @subversivecynic @flusteredcas @persnicketysquares @freddykicksasses @little-trash-ghost @cupcakesnwhiskey @cats-ate-all-of-my-pasta

#eldritch monster steve #upside down creature steve #steddie undertones #part 6 #mentioned cannibalism #not the fandom that usually applies to #From the Rot

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hey, I've been thinking of maybe getting into TTRPGs, but I don't really have any friends in person that are into that sort of stuff (I do have online friends who are into it, though). Do you have any recommendations for a/some good "solo" ttrpg for beginners.

THEME: Free Solo Games for First-Timers.

Hello friend! I managed to find a whole cluster of free roleplaying games, so I hope you find something here that tickles your fancy! There’s some story games, some survival games, and some that are in between.

Lycans & Lawyers, by GorgonHead.

You are one of Capitol's top lawyers. You also turn into a werewolf at night.

Welcome to Moondale, one of Capitol's nicer districts! Your law firm is based here, and most of your clients come from here. It is you job to keep them from getting convicted, even if they are guilty. 

And they are. You must employ your best skills, both as a lawyer and as a lycan, to keep them safe from the Union's law long hands. To manage this, you'll have to do some shady things. But it's all for the good of the client!

This is a simple, one page game with a lot to play with. It has a few paragraphs of lore, a map to help you visualize your neighbourhood, and two moon tracks to follow. You’ll have two different sets of stats depending on whether you are in your werewolf mode or your lawyer mode, as well as a series of roll tables to set the scene. If you like a concrete goal but also some flexibility in the details that you get to contribute to the story, you might like this game.

Strandead, by chuymarin.

Awakening amidst the boundless stretch of the open ocean, the unsettling sensation of isolation grips your soul. What lies ahead in this abyss, lurking within the depths of the ominous waters? The weight of impending threats gnaws at your very core. 

A solo hexcrawl for the survivalist at heart. Travel across an ocean and roll for encounters, fish, and random items as you try to survive for X number of days out on the open seas. With two difficulty modes and an optional QR-linked random generator of rumours, you’ll have an excellent combination of randomness and strategy to keep you invested. Perfect for folks who prefer balancing numbers and don’t want to fill in a narrative from prompts.

Fortress in the Frozen Wastes, by August Wigg.

Set in the post-apocalyptical land of the Frozen Wastes, a young Ranger must journey to an outlaw fortress to rescue their captured mentor and a group of settlers. Customize your Ranger to be proficient in different skills and choose different paths as you attempt to save the prisoners of the Fortress in the Frozen Wastes.

This is a combination of a traditional roleplaying adventure and a choose-your own adventure story. You’ll create a character sheet with stats, character abilities and inventory slots, and success and failure depend on a d10 roll. Your character dies if their endurance ever gets to 0, so you’ll do your best to navigate each new situation you encounter and make choices that keep your ranger alive long enough to fulfill their quest.

5 Min Knight, by enui.

5-Min-Knight is small one-player RPG about being a Knight of the round table. It takes 5 minutes to play.

This is basically a writing challenge, with a number of d6 tables that you’ll use for writing prompts. You are meant to roll and write as much as you can in 5 minutes - when the timer is up, you roll again to see what called you away. This is a great exercise if you’re looking for a way to practise your creativity, or if you don’t have that much time in a day to play.

If you’re more interested in solving mysteries, you can also try 5 Min Maven, by the same creator, inspired by Brindlewood Bay!

Curiosity Killed?, by Zole Tsoi.

Playing as a cat wandering the streets of a futuristic city, you are tasked with helping ghosts of the underworld who have unfinished business.

This is a one page game that uses a d4 for pretty much everything. You’ll want to keep an eye on your three stats, because if they get too high or too low, your cat is forced to end their mission early or gets stuck. Get your Stress down to 1 or your Morality up to 5 to win the game!

Homunculus, by DOMINO CLUB

Alchemy is a dirty, tiring, thankless job. I’ve let this absorb my whole life, and I’ve now gotten to the point where I’m ready to move on.

In this game, you play as an homunculus, newly created by an alchemist to explore the world .

Homunculus is a game that starts you off with quite a bit of guidance, easing you into play by setting you up with prompts connected to cards you draw from the deck. Card suits are connected to four stats in this game, which you will attempt to increase equally in order to gain the best possible ending. This game allows for a few replays if you are interested in getting different endings, but it also relies on interpreting prompts as drawn by the cards. If you like a game where you’re reaching a specific target, you might like Homunculus.

The Dukes Aid, by g0ri.

On the frontiers of space, an interstellar empire exists in a perilous balance. As a close aide of a Duke and his house, your job is to navigate safely through the coming intrigues.

Observe the plans within plans within plans as your House takes over the production of the Empire’s most important resource.….

The Duke's Aide is a solo roleplaying game requiring at least half an hour, a set of roleplaying dice, a deck of cards and something to write with and on. This is a proper journaling game, using a deck of cards to supply prompts, jokers included to help pace the game out for you. You’ll choose a character class, which also determines the dice you roll, which you’ll need every time your character tries something risky. This is a great introduction to a journaling game that still gives you a lot to work with if you don’t feel super comfortable extrapolating from prompts.

Games I've Recommended in the Past

The Wandering Library, by AP.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #solo games #free games

[fallout4-reacts]

An actual prompt this time! I know you're busy and have plenty of things to write yet, take your time.

Soo I was thinking that maybe companions (and Maxson) horribly failing at confessing to Sole. Like for example they could clear out some Raiders, companion is impressed, tries to confess BAM Sole gets fucking decked by random raider they didn't kill. I feel like you could get pretty creative with that one. Like deathclaws, something exploding, just settlers running in, other companions interrupting etc.

Yeah! Sorry for my waiting list but this one just take me out of my bed literally Maybe it's better then just writing nothing and you all will forgive me... I will not taking it as an habit but it was just what I needed I think And maybe an EPIC ask... I think it will be (not in the sense I'll do an epic job, in the sense hmmm Titan Quest like the F.E.V. one and all) Oh, and take note you ask for... horribly

Part 1

Danse / Deacon / Nick Valentine

(Part 2 : Hancock, Preston, Strong)

(Part 3 : X6-88 alone because of a bug)

(Part 4 : Gage, MacCready, Piper)

(Part 5 : Cait, Curie, Codsworth, Dogmeat, Elder Maxson)

Danse : Sole returns. Sole returns to the bunker after a few days. Danse had time to clean and make the space more comfortable. He didn't consider establishing his new camp there because, after all, he didn't consider living at all.

But now he did.

And Sole came back.

Danse kept himself occupied during his few days alone, trying not to worry about what was happening to him. But he pondered his new envision of himself. Beyond the initial distaste, he felt a sense of conviction, similar to how Sole stood.

Whatever he is, he is a person with convictions for which he fought. He was a man of honor —a synth?— whose his brothers and sisters could trust.

He'd come a long way. His damned way into this group that turned his back on him after he had dedicated his blood and soul for them. And Maxson, whom he almost considered a friend, treated him as if he were a worm to be crushed.

After being reassured that he agreed with Sole on his right to life, his thoughts couldn't help but wander.

He recalls Sole standing in front of him, defending him against Maxson.

And even more.

More, a lot more.

He can't help but replay in his mind all of these events, all of these moments. When Sole emerged as an avenging angel, slaying all the ghouls in their way, Danse was convinced that his squad's final hour had arrived. They entered the paladin's life as a mythical entity, too great for regular mortals, an enigmatic spirit of the times sent to save them.

Then there's how they forced a comedy at Fort Strong while killing mutants. Danse had admonished them a few times for their lack of seriousness in the face of a critical assignment, but he couldn't keep a smile from rising on his face in the midst of their antics.

And all of their nonsense, every time they could.

Danse had pieced together Sole's intentions and the horror of their past, and he couldn't help but admire this person's trustworthiness. When Danse expressed concern about Sole's moral status following such heinous ordeals, Sole merely grinned and remarked that the companionship they were blessed with helped them get through.

Even after they returned from the Institute, learning the injurious truth, they had held on, had rounded the corner, and Danse felt better to know he had been by their side to help. To morally support them.

And now that Sole is standing in front of Danse again, slightly smiling and wondering what's next for him, Danse feels his throat tighten.

Because Danse has realized that he has strong affections for Sole.

Much more than a simple friendship.

He nods slowly.

"Perhaps we should consider venturing to Sanctuary. I am unable to endure it any further. First and foremost, I am a soldier, and a soldier without a purpose doesn't progress very far. I humbly express my desire to align myself with the esteemed Minutemen's structure. In the utmost, their cause is righteous, and they shall not forsake me nor open fire upon me. I have received word that their General harbors a troubling acceptance towards synths."

"They tolerate and love them a lot," Sole admits with a half-smile.

They proceed without adding anything. Thus far north, there is no road that crosses directly, at least not according to Sole. As best they can, they cross the countryside in wreckage, cutting valleys and hills.

And Danse remains quiet, lost in introspection.

Yes, he likes Sole a lot more than simply as a friend. There's a lot more. Soon, Sole will return to their Rail Road operations, to which Danse has never been requested (and he now understands why), while Danse will begin his Minutemen duties, most likely limited to the Castle for the time of his training. And, while it appeared to him at first to be the finest way to fill his days, he now has a peculiar uneasiness at the prospect of leaving Sole without delivering anything of what he feel upon them.

They are in the midst of the wreckage of a plane that crashed there two centuries ago. They passed through a few Minutemen (apparently, it is in the profession to check out every nook and cranny of the Commonwealth), but they are now alone and isolated in front of the cabin of the downed craft.

He clears his throat slightly in an attempt to catch the attention of his partner.

Sole looks at him.

"Something's wrong, Danse?"

When the realization occurs to the fallen Paladin that he would never again have his title before his name, he swallows hard. But that's not the issue he's having right now.

"I…I'm not really a man of words but…"

Sole erupts in laughter.

"Are you not a man of words? Yes, you ate a dictionary at birth!"

For a few whiles, the poor man panics, unable to restore balance after the sting of Sole. He had seized his courage in both hands in an attempt to open his heart, and his partner had fallen back into amusement. But he needs to tell them. He has to. He knows deep down that he has to.

"Sole, please."

They instantly calm down, recognizing that the man in front of them appears to be death serious.

"Oh, sorry."

"Don't be like that. What I'm trying to say is this—

Sole's expression shifts from calm to dread in an instant, while Danse hears the anger of a beast he despises beyond all in his back. He despises her much more now that she's interfering in such an important situation.

He turns, weapon in hand, to fully answer to the deathclaw, and then follows a long and deadly combat. The beast is fierce and perhaps ancient, and it not easily defeated.

When they eventually prevail against the monster, with a few bites and scratches here and there, Danse don't dare trying again to express himself. And Sole now has to patch them up as soon as they find out a settlement, so they regretfully didn't think to inquire furthermore.

Deacon : His deathly bunny and he jumped into a plethora of wolf dens. Nothing, however, tops being in his favorite den.

The spy like it when Sole stays for the evening and then retires to the back of the HQ for a well-deserved rest. Despite the fact that he does not require sleep himself —as a synth, eh— he enjoys lying on the mattress next to Sole when they ask it, with a roll of the eyes at his answer.

They normally spend a few more moments on their mattresses talking about everything and nothing until one of them falls asleep —more often then none Sole, because Deacon is a synth, yup.

"Tell me again how he almost swallowed his beard."

Sole bursts out laughing.

"I told him to go to hell. That I was only in their camp for my friend Danse, and that by turning their back on him, the entire organization may roast, I would never support them again. Anyway, it's irrelevant now. Let them go to fight like the big boys they are against this blasted Institute and get the heck out of my territory."

Deacon like it when Sole becomes engrossed. The fire in their eyes awakens his heart's hearth. He would never have confessed to them. Never. Never previously has it's not have seems important.

There is still a serious moment, which Sole elaborates on.

"It's very little Deacon, to remain silent and, moreover, serious. What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing, you know. There isn't much to eat here. Perhaps a programming error. Perhaps I should run a diagnostic."

Sole's chuckling is priceless. Deacon smiles quietly as he listens to the pleasant melody in his ears. They stare at him again when his friend grows still serious.

They sit on the mattress and motion for Deacon to do the same. As he straightens, the spy stares down. Sole is right. He has words on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't dare to voice them for the first time in his holy life. Sole gently takes his hands in their, searching for his eyes.

"Deacon, you know you can tell me anything?"

The man glances into the other side and swallows cautiously. Yes, he has the right to tell Sole anything. But what about that? Can he? He has to. He has a debt to Sole. He owes them a frank and honest sincerity. And even the thought seems weird to him. A straightforward and open sincerity? He has no recollection of what it tastes like.

"I'll be honest then," he says, hesitantly, as if he must step into the void. "It's been a while since I should have told you."

He takes a deep breath, ready to blow it all, when an unusually powerful vibration is noticed.

Sole turns their gaze towards the headquarters, and suddenly they hear screaming and gunshots.

"But…"

Deacon leaps to his feet. This kind of roar his still heard in his worst nightmares. Just like the day the Coursers assaulted the old HQ. But isn't Tinker Tom meant to put cameras? How did the Coursers gain access to the facility, this time?

"The Brotherhoods!" yells someone from within.

Sole and Deacon are already on the front lines of defense, positioning themselves to hold the soldiers for as long as it takes for the others to flee. They didn't even need to talk. With Gloria, they hold the line and exchange gunshots with their enemies, keeping them in respect for so long that Deacon is confident their friends will have no problem to disappear in the ruins of Boston. Gloria then makes a strangled gasp and collapses to her knees, her gun no longer firing shots. Deacon peers at her, fear on his face as he realizes his friend has been badly shot.

"Glo!"

A grunt and a thud behind his back make him fear the worst. He attempts to hold the BoS at bay, but his weapon is too slow without Gloria's gatling and Sole's assault rifle.

Desperate, he throws a couple of grenades into the tunnel to gain time, and he manages to push the invaders back slightly.

He rushes alongside Sole right away.

"Eh!"

His friend clutches their bowels in agony, or what remains of them. Deacon wraps his arms around them and softly cradles them.

"Don't worry, everything will be alright. Let's go locate Carrington."

As he glances around, searching in the room... he realizes that the doctor is among the casualties. He growls and attempts to drag Sole further away, hoping to hide them.

"We're going to get through this," he said. "We're going to get through this, I promise" he repeats dejectedly.

“Liar,” breaths Sole before becoming limp in his arms.

Nick Valentine : They came to a halt near the GNN, in the ruins of an abandoned house of which he believes was once a settlement.

He finds it weird that the occupants simply vanished overnight, leaving no trace.

It happens occasionally, such as at University Point, although there are traces. There are dead settlers, downed synths, evidence, and clues.

But here, just the emptiness of tranquility, as if no one had lived there since the war.

But Sole is worn out, hungry, and thirsty, and all he wants is one evening off, possibly one night.

While his companion actually runs aground on a dingy old mattress in the living room of the modest house, Nick ensures that nothing threatens them. When the synth returns from his excursion, his partner hasn't moved one inch.

He moves careful closer.

"Well, ya gotta keep that belly of yours satisfied. And imbibing a beverage would assuredly be a wise course of action."

He was met with a growl in response. He looked around. The previously residents provided a fire pit. He reaches over, takes Sole's bag, and begins cooking something for them.

"I'll rouse you from your slumber once the soup is ready."

Another grunt joins in. He can't help but sneering. Of course, he finds a cauldron (even two) and every necessary instrument in Sole's backpack to prepare the thrifty dinner. Water canes, carrots, and a piece of meat that he starts cutting into small cubes. He whistles merrily, converting himself into a maid of the household, as he frequently does with Sole.

"Ah, the pangs of nostalgia for the flavors of garlic and cilantro doth visit me on occasion. Parsley and mint!

“Salt, pepper,” Sole mumbles under their arm, their head shifting slightly to reach a more comfortable position.

Nick digs deeper into the bag and uncovers a pepper and salt shaker.

"Well, I must say, this here stuff seems to possess quite the remarkable dose of radiation, and it should lacks any discernible flavor."

“Still good,” corrects the other.

Nick chuckles a little and adds the condiments, pleased to be able to improve the soup he's making.

He sits down and glances around the room while waiting for the meal to be ready. It had to have been a nice house. Here had to live a lovely little family. He takes note of the stairs. The bedrooms should be on the second floor. Children, most likely. A pleasant existence.

Normal.

His gaze is drawn to the limp figure on the mattress. His artificial lips slowly form a tiny smile. Sole, in all their magnificence, is a stunning, authoritarian, and noble individual. But the visual of Sole spread out, blindly trusting their companion for safety, entirely abandoned to the sleep that stole them, is something that few can boast of seeing.

And Nick owns it.

He has it all and meticulously details his friend.

And once more, this odd sensation arises in the hollow of his components.

It happens from time to time. Often. More and more. When their gazes cross. When they cheer at a triumph. When a file is closed. When they're simply the two of them at the end of an evening by the fire. When Sole departs for a while and then reappears on his doorstep.

And Nick can no longer mislead himself.

He experiences a feeling. This is not a programming error. His circuits are flawless in that. It's just a true, intense, genuine emotion.

He serves a bowl of soup and kneels next to Sole, softly shaking their shoulder.

"Stand up, Sleeping Beauty, lunch is served!"

Sole scolds and growls but sit in front of Nick, gratefully taking the bowl that their friend hands them. They begin to eat it carefully, as if lost in contemplation. And Nick can't stop admiring them, always fascinated by the elegance of their features and the brightness in their eyes.

His companion frowns as they glance back at him. "I got something stick in my teeth?"

Nick sighs and laughs a little.

"There's absolutely nothin' on here. None of it, pal."

"So what?"

"It seems that this, ah, old carcass of mine hasn't been spinning as smoothly as I'd prefer for quite some time now."

Sole places the dish on the ground, their face etched with anguish and earnestness.

"Nick, what's wrong?"

The synth is astonished.

"Oh, nothing to be awry. Not quite how you're envisioning it. It's just a tough nut to crack."

"Say so, and we'll figure it out together. Perhaps I am able to help you."

He places a sympathetic hand on Nick's metal one, the synth constantly amazed at how tactile Sole is with him despite his nature.

"How can you…help me?"

Even though Sole is the organic, it's Nick who swallows with difficulty. He lowers his head, his eyes hidden by the brim of his fedora, but Sole's hand rises from his to tuck beneath his chin.

"Hello, I'm here. I will always be there for you. No matter what."

After getting some good breaths, Nick takes the plunge to opens his bag. He opens his mouth to respond, but then a radroach erupts between them, knocking the bowl of soup over and driving both to rush to their feet and draw their weapons.

After the "vicious" opponent is dispatched, a nice laugh and a new bowl of soup, Sole raises an eyebrow.

"But what did you want to tell me, before our surprise guest wasted your delicious soup?"

Nick swallows and makes a dismissive hand motion.

"Nothin', absolutely nothin'. Drop it..."

#fallout 4 #fallout #fallout 4 companions #fo4 #fallout companions #fallout 4 reactions #fallout 4 react #sole survivor #nick valentine #danse #deacon fallout 4 #deacon fo4 #deacon #deacon fallout #fallout 4 deacon #fallout deacon #fo4 deacon #fo4 danse #paladin danse #danse fallout 4 #fallout nick valentine #fo4 nick valentine #fallout react #reactions #reaction

[bellonathedragonborn]

More Emma screenshots.

I’m pretending the settler living with her is her girlfriend.

#fallout OC #fallout OC Emma #resident 76 #fallout 76 #lgbt #lesbian character #fallout #settler wanderer #wlw love

[neechees]

Its funny bc this book is saying Wandering Spirit didnt start the Frog Lake massacre or kill 10 settlers gvshfuvtbc. Nah he did all that irl

#i do not feel bad for those settlers at all #even if Wandering Spirit didnt do that irl he probably wouldve been like 'damn i wish i was there' #creesins

[saradika]

— WASTELAND, BABY

vii. be known in it's aching, shown in the shaking

[masterlist] | [part vi]

boba fett x f!reader

rated E - 6.4k

tags: fallout au, post-apocalyptic, canon-typical themes, multiple pov, angst, feelings, masturbation (m), kissing, oral (f), fingering, semi-public / outdoor sex, birth control mention, begging, piv, outercourse

Your routine watch with Fennec takes an interesting turn when someone very unexpected appears to take her place.

His reason for first going to the Pika Oasis had been rooted in duty. Never expecting there to be anything more than that - no pleasure in the long days spent away from Mos Espa.

But that had been when he thought he had been going alone.

Before he had been unable to shake Fennec. The others soon following, so sure in their decision to stick by his side.

Before… you.

He still marvels at your transformation. From that pretty little bluebird to something far more fierce. All sharp talons, now. Spreading your wings, prepared to soar.

The girl he had found at the farmhouse never would have insisted she come with. That hunch in your shoulders as you had scurried after him, startling at the crack of a branch underneath your own foot.

He can no longer pretend he doesn’t look for you. The quickest flick of his eyes when he’s walking down the main road, even now.

Looking. Searching.

Finding.

There's confidence in the way your hands brace on your hips. A little tilt of your head as you listen to the settler, watching where he points towards the row of houses being slowly cleared out.

Hands reaching for the box he holds, where it wobbles from being stacked too high. Kindness in your unguarded expression. A rarity, in a world where personal gain often came before the needs of others.

A softness still lingered in you. A remnant of the before - something he had never truly wondered about, until now. Never worth his time thinking about a past that would not exist again.

It’s in your eyes, in your smile.

In your form - the hard work and warm weather baring inches of skin that his eyes couldn't help but to be drawn to. Desire was a tricky thing, but even with his attempts to distance himself, his mind was brought back to you, again and again.

Leaving his mind to wander, in the dark. When the hard day was finally over. When what starts as a replay of a moment turns into more - a hand dropping to curl around where he’s already half-hard.

The jerk of his fist twining with his thoughts. Imaging your sweet mouth pressing against his, how your lips would feel wrapping around his cock. Soft and warm and wet - how good you’d be, for him.

Your name catching in his throat, snarled out through clenched teeth as he spilled across his knuckles.

Sometime over the past month it had changed. From a physical appreciation of the memory - the way that blue suit had clung to your form - to something deeper, something that lasted into the next morning.

No longer thinking of just the during, but now - the after.

His mind torn between that moment of reaching out and taking - like he had wanted to, just the night before. Hoping to find you on that evening shift, to go to you, himself.

Now, in the light of day - seeing you now, he wonders if he was right to wish it.

If his touch - so stained as it was - would dent your softness, mold and mar it into something unrecognizable. If it was fair to return your gaze, the desire that so often flickered in your own eyes.

The morning washes away the smoldering fire from the night before. Brining a fresh clarity, unwanted but inevitable.

No, he thinks. Perhaps not.

He has tarnished enough things during his time walking this world. The one bright spot in Mos Espa would not be one of them.

He'll let you down, gently. He can do that much.

Then, he'll make himself forget.

The sky bleeds from blue, to gold, to a deep, hazy orange.

Your plate dipping where it rests on your knee, scraped clean from your dinner-from-a-can and roasted tatos.

Lost in thought, stuck in the night before. Replaying the conversation - a loop of wondering why Boba had been asking about your shift.

If it had just been checking in again, or if it had been something more?

You think… maybe it had. The prospect thrills you, and sends your stomach twisting in knots. Feeling the heavy weight of his gaze today, your own darting back his way when his attention pulls from you.

A slow circling, steps in the sand - just waiting for the loop to complete, to finally converge.

"About time to head out.” Fennec tells you, her boot reaching out to tap yours. The corner of her mouth lifting, when you don’t immediately reply, “Where'd you go, bluebird?"

"Oh. I'm here." You blink, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks.

Brushing off her questions, the raised tilt of her brow, as you wash off your utensils, turning them back into the rusting wire basket at the cantina.

The easy silence lingering, as you walk beside her. Down the long dirt road, past all the houses. The flickering lights above and lanterns slowly dimming the further you go, until you reach the ridge that overlooks the river.

The remnants on an old one-room cabin was found nestled in the trees - bolstered with wooden boards. Furnished into something almost cozy with a discovery of an old picnic table, a rickety chair, and some crates that passed as storage.

An open window on each side that gave a good view of where the river spilled into the lake, a fine place as any to watch for Raiders.

Some of your gear is dumped inside - a small lantern lit that hopefully acts as a deterrent. An almost familiar path taken together, as you start down the wooden trail.

The nights were close to routine, now - a slow loop around the lake, and then back. A few hours of watch, and then the same.

It's about half-way down the river, near a bend that loops perfectly around a massive fallen tree, where there's another nudge. Your thoughts drift again, this time back to your childhood.

Younger you would have loved a walk like this. Toeing off shoes and socks - rolling up the hem of your pants to wade in water and wiggle your toes in the mud.

With the radiation that lingers, you don't know if you'll ever get the chance to do that again. There were areas that were safe, and perhaps this river was too, but you'd lost that carefree edge the moment you woke up.

There's an urge to look into the rippling water - see if it's still you looking back. A step forward as your eyes drop - the stars and line of trees reflected in the surface.

Again, still you. Still her, deep down, when your eyes narrow and your vision blurs.

"Don't think you'll find anything in there." A hand touches your elbow, as she brings you back again.

Your reflection distorts with the twist of your head, as you step away.

Offering a small smile, an embarrassed huff of a quiet laugh, "Sorry. I've just been a bit... distracted lately."

It's an understatement.

A sideways look shot your way, as you move on, "Don't tell me you're wishing someone else was on patrol with you."

It's a misinterpretation - and you haven't been wishing that, not really - but she still strikes at something close to your heart.

"No!" You sputter, with a little wave of your hand, "I like patrols with you. I just-"

She is quick, smart. Second in command for a reason, tongue rubbing against her teeth as she fights a smile. Easily plucking at the way your words peter out, unable to help poking at them.

"...but?"

"But, nothing." Your cheeks feel hot, as you move ahead on the trail.

Embarrassment licks at you. The thought of talking about your crush with Fennec feels silly - too juvenile on a multitude of levels.

It was fine enough in your thoughts - a soft, cozy thing. But to speak it out loud would make your desire real. If she were to laugh at your presumption, you'd be crushed.

"You don't have to tell me." She sighs, when she catches up to you a moment later, "It will be more fun to guess, anyways. Just… be careful. Okay?"

That has you pausing, a little glance over your shoulder. A frown, as you try to figure out the source of her worry.

"I’ve talked with vault dwellers before." Fennec gives you a look, as if you should know, "Things sounded a lot different back then. Life moves a lot more quickly now, with a lot less attachments."

You think you know what she means. From what you've heard, life had turned more fluid, when the world had turned all but lawless. A bad day could get you separated from your family for months, or far worse.

Love had persevered through it all, but the slow dance of romance were rooted with traditions that have long been forgotten.

"You're jumping awfully far ahead," You shoot her a look, "You're telling me there's no white dresses or ringing church bells at the end of the line?"

Her brow furrows, as she thinks about your words. Your humor had been another thing that has disappeared, when the world had changed. All those little references that came without thought, now an ancient language.

But you think she tries to understand, for you. A shake of her head, with a small smile, "Not out here. Not anymore."

"That's too bad. You'd make a pretty bridesmaid, Fen." You deflect with a grin, and then the tension breaks.

And this time she's the one to roll her eyes - to walk on ahead.

Her laugh joining yours, as you follow.

By the time you make it back to the shed, the earlier conversation has trickled down into the back of your mind. An ease in the way you settle into your usual seats - Fennec leaning against the picnic table.

You, propped up against a large crate, nearby. A leg pulled up as you rest an arm on it, giving you a good look out of one of the open windows. Idle chatter passing the time - plans for the next few days, the tiny bits of gossip you've caught while working.

How Krrsantan got that scar that arcs across his eye - a story you didn’t quite believe at first, because there weren’t laser swords in your time.

The piece of paper with some writing on it that she had seen in Mos Espa - the words illegible but somehow binding Charon to Boba, leaving him unable and unwilling to disobey an order.

And just as the sky reaches its darkest, the moon hanging full, there's the sounds of footsteps coming from the path behind.

Coming from the worn dirt path to town - someone to relieve Fennec of watch duty, since she was covering for a villager this coming evening. You still had a few hours ahead of you, until dawn rose.

You don’t look up - too busy narrowing your eyes at the flicker you thought you saw in the distance. But, through the old set of binoculars, there’s just the inky night looking back at you.

Shifts had increased when there had been rumors of Raiders nearby. Krrsantan spotting them when he had been out earlier that week, a few miles past the far edge of the fences. Disposing of some, but they always travelled in packs.

The settlement was growing, food starting to become even more plentiful. Word would spread, and those who were hungry would come - welcome or not.

Fennec uses your knee to push herself upward, and you sway with the moment. Something solid bumping into the leg that dangles, her casual “thanks, boss” capturing your attention.

Your head turns until you can see the person behind you, whose hip brushes against your thigh.

Boba Fett.

The breath catches in your throat as he lowers himself down, taking up the space where she had sat - the old picnic bench creaking, but holds steady. Your focus so solely on him, that you don't quite catch the goodbye she tosses your way.

Fennec shooks you a look, catching your delayed response. A cocked eyebrow, a smirk that splits her face; before she’s slipping out the door.

Leaving the two of you alone - the small flickering lantern warming the space where you're wrapped in darkness.

A silence lingers, until the conversation slowly begins. Going over routine ones during and after a shift. No changes in the traps set - tripwires scattered throughout the woods. No new tracks in the muddy riverbank. Nothing on the horizon.

As the minutes pass, you can't help but wonder why he's here. A small bud of hope just starting to sprout in your chest. Happy with the thought that maybe he just wanted to spend time with you, like you had been so secretly hoping.

And slowly, the topics turn. Away from the semi-formal reporting, to detailing small moments about your day. Boba tells you about the defense turret they got running at the entrance to town. Only one, but it was a start.

About the second story above the old storefront that's finally been upgraded to home an official clinic - instead of the tucked-away corner they had been using.

You tell him about the large generator you'd gotten running. The couple lucky breaks you had gotten with the old equipment, how you had managed to find enough scrap metal to replace the rusted bolts and wires.

The look in his eyes is pleased, appraising. Crinkling at the edges with his smile - as you wonder, if perhaps he no longer wishes he had left you in Mos Espa.

"Not many Wastelanders would be able to do that." The curve of his lips tilt into a frown, as if he's not sure how to word his question, "Did you do similar work before?"

Before. Before the end.

"No." The shake of your head is small, "Nothing like this, this has all been new. But I had a lot of time to learn, since I..."

The words thicken in your throat - almost choking you - but you push through, "Since I was alone for so long. And I've learned a lot in Mos Espa, too."

His eyes drop.

"I am sorry for your loss. We've all had them, but to lose everyone-" He doesn't have to words to finish, to even begin to convey the breadth of what you had gone through.

And for the first time, there's the urge to talk about them. A want to clarify, a deep-rooted feeling that you'd be safe to name them here, in this tiny shack.

"My family, they're... they're not gone." You begin, with the smallest waver in your voice. A second as you collect yourself - sending a glance his way, a small smile, "They're still in the Vault. The one I woke up in."

His face has gone from sympathetic to concerned - a sharp focus of his brown eyes, a pinch of his brow as he concentrates. You think he knows, somehow, how important this is.

"It's hard to explain but from what I've pieced together, when the bombs fell we were put into an extended cryosleep. Frozen in time." You frown, as you try to cut down your extensive research into the barest of bones, "I don't know why, but I woke up early."

There’s a slow nod as he follows, a relief coming when he does.

"And I tried to wait it out in the Vault. I really did. But after months had passed, I couldn't take it anymore." You get lost in the memory for a moment. The aching hours of isolation, those painted-white and silent walls, "So, I left. I went out."

"Very brave of you." His voice is low, in the dark.

"Very stupid." You smile, remembering those weeks - months - ago, "If you hadn't found me-"

The words die on your tongue, as you look at him. The curve of his lips as he remembers that fateful first meeting. Pure luck - you know that now, living in the outside world as long as you have now. The warmth in your chest swells at how far you've come since then.

"…But, I think they're okay. I think they'll wake up when it's time." You still hold onto that last tiny part - the exact timing. That feels like too much to give, to anyone.

Boba hums in contemplation, his fingers steepling as his elbows press into spread knees. Eyes drifting past your shoulder and beyond, as he thinks.

"They are welcome in Mos Espa. There's plenty of space in the east wing now." Boba's voice is solemn, a finger breaking free to brush against his lower lip - already planning, "I can move you over there, when we get back. Block out the rooms.”

So casual in the way he offers you salvation, once again. The heavy weight of worry that’s been sitting on your chest for some weeks now - wondering how you’ll ever afford housing for everyone, even in four years time.

A kindness offered out now, without thought.

Everything seems to go still for a moment, as your feelings tip into something almost tangible.

Love, you think dizzily. That bud in your heart suddenly blooming fiercely, the petals filling up the cavity of your chest.

Not even realizing you’re standing until his eyes drop, to where your feet creak on the thick wooden boards.

Yours stay fixed on his face. The dim flicker of the lantern catch the shadow of his scars, and you in this moment you don’t know if you’ve ever wanted to kiss someone more.

It’s then that he catches you looking, his head cocking as he considers you. The flicker of a shadow across his expression, the grit of his jaw - as if he was steeling himself.

His next words catch you off guard.

“I’m not one of your handsome princes or noble knights.” Boba’s voice is a low rumble, soft in the night air, “You know that, right?”

You frown - confused by the sudden turn, not knowing where this is going.

A protest, that he is handsome - that you’ve spent weeks thinking so, knowing so - bubbling in your throat, but he cuts you off.

“I’m an old man. I’ve seen-,” He frowns then, a moment before he continues, “I know what you want, princess. But I don’t think you really know, yourself.”

His words make you blink. Stepping towards him, as your hands brace on your hips.

Bypassing the embarrassment and barreling right towards indignation, “You don’t think I know what I want?”

Boba’s lips press together, the mark deepening between his brows. A shake of his head, the movement slow, “You want the idea of something. But it’s not reality.”

The rejection stings. It rips through you, your hands curling into fists, until your nails bite into your palms.

A final blow, “You’re not seeing, sen’ika.”

Your eyes drop. He makes you feel small, as if he’s wearing his hulking power armor now. Easily battered aside, left and forgotten in the Wasteland.

But you’ve grown, since then. Stronger and braver than when you first met.

“I see just fine.” You bite out, your heart fluttering in your chest, your breaths shallow, “I see someone that Din listens to, and respects. Someone who saved Fennec and gave her another chance.”

He’s looking at you, unblinking. Face impassive, as your voice threatens to crack, “I see someone that this settlement trusts and follows, when there’s little left for us to believe in.”

You inhale a breath, blinking back the prickle that stings your eyes. You’re aching and crushed, and the feelings in your chest are breaking out of their shackles, bursting free.

“I see someone I-”

Boba doesn’t let you finish.

The shell around him cracks with your words - a hand darting out to wrap around a wrist. It only take one willing step, before you’re tugged between spread knees.

His other broad hand spans the back of your neck, cradling it as his mouth presses to yours with a growl.

It’s messy, insistent. Your lips slotting with his as you move closer - knees knocking against the breadth of his chest as you climb onto the bench to straddle him.

His tongue brushing against your lip, a scrape of teeth as you open, whimpering. The layers of his dark robes beneath his armor are soft to the touch as your fingers sink in, as his hands find your waist and drag you closer.

It’s not like the times you’ve had, before. Hushed whispers in bed, careful fumbling. Moments from lifetimes ago - a different world.

Here, his finger dig into your hips. The nudge of something that stiffens against your core as your thighs spread wider. A mouth that presses open-mouthed against your neck, a low chuckle as you whine.

Boba knows where to touch you, your head tilting back so he can kiss at your throat, and then down. Fingers rucking up your shirt, plucking at the buttons until the cool night air is raising goosebumps against your skin.

Heat pools between your thighs, a neediness that has you rutting against him. A shiver making you tremble when his lips brush the curve of your breast, his breath warm against your skin.

“Is this what you want?”

You can only manage a weak sound, a soft gasp.

“Tell me, princess. Do you want this?” There’s a firmness to his voice that has you finding your own.

“Yes.” You look at him, his chin pressed against your sternum, waiting for your answer.

Lips parted over clenched-together teeth. A groan, then - as a finger hooks around the center gore of your worn, cotton bra.

A rough yank as he tugs it down, baring you. His tongue pressing against the stiff peak of your nipple, as your thighs close around his thick waist.

You jerk in his touch, moaning as his lips close around you. Leaning into the soft suck as his hands grip at your waist, fingertips brushing over the bare skin above the waistband of your trousers.

Tugging then at your belt, as your fingers fan out and then wrap around a shoulder.

His teeth graze your nipple, the briefest pinch before his tongue soothes it. The night quiet except the rasp of denim against his armor, as your hips rock again.

As you moan his name, sounding so pretty on your lips, “Boba. I need you.”

Racing past want, now. A throbbing in your core, an excitement coursing through your veins that feels so new. You’ve desired before, but never quite like this.

He’s tugging at the zipper now, and your hips lift to help him. Your fingers hooking around the waistband, a foot dropping down to the earth as you stand.

A knee resting in the bench as you awkwardly push both layers down to your ankles.

Your small squeak is shushed when he nudges at you - hands that press at your hips, drawing you back to the bench.

The old wood seat pressing into your bent knees as he bends you over the table, a hand smoothing down you back.

“You need me, hm?” His mouth is level with your shoulder, now. A flex of your muscles as his lips brush against your skin, as he peels the opened shirt from you.

Tucking it beneath your elbows for padding, a small moment of consideration.

“Please,” you breathe, eyes closing as his strong hands shift you up just a little further - the edge of the table biting into your skin, until - yes. There.

Right where he wants to you be.

Right where he can see you - his thumb tracing the curve where your thigh meets hip. Then, brushing against your core, so warm and wet, making your hips jerk.

“Here?” He asks, as his thumb makes a pass again.

Ghosting over soft skin, just shy of where you want him. Teasing you.

“Yes, there. Oh my god, there, please-”

You feel yourself clench, rocking your hips into his touch.

Expecting the blunt press of his cock to follow. Trying to turn your head to watch him disrobe, not expecting him to lower himself down onto protesting knees, instead.

Unable to - as his mouth replaces his fingers, tasting you from behind. The hot swipe of a tongue against your folds, as your head drops forward to thunk against to wood.

Eyes closing as he eats you, a pleased hum in his throat as his palms flatten on the curve of your ass, gently tugging.

Keeping you spread, even as you grit out an “oh, fuck-” that is way too loud. Unable to help it, with the way his lips suck against your clit.

Your fingernails scratching against the wood, as he draws back. Eyes sweeping over your soaked skin as his thumb presses against your opening - nudging just the tip inside.

“Just look at you.” He husks, as he feels your muscles tighten around him. Seeing how the angle keeps you spread so open for him, a tremble in your thighs as you hold back the urge to grind into his touch.

“A sweet thing like you, so wet for an old bounty hunter like me.” Boba’s voice is low - drawing his thumb out so it can swipe over your folds. Leaving you glossy, slick with desire, “You should be running, princess.”

The edge to his voice makes you moan, goosebumps raising at his warning. Too far gone to take any heed of it, not when his middle finger is pressing inside you.

Sinking deep, down to the knuckle - before withdrawing. Pulling back to fit it back in, and you can hear the sound of your cunt swallowing him.

It’s been too long. Two hundred years, you think derisively - the strangled laugh coming out as a hushed whine by the time it passes through your teeth.

The slow build across these weeks too much, your feelings twisting with your desire until you feel ripe - about to burst.

Your breathing ragged as his nose presses against you, as a second finger hooks inside, scissoring you open.

His face angling to press a tongue between those fingers, inside you, before his tongue licks at your clit again.

The arch of your hips is automatic, as is your cry. Never expecting this, the man that is groaning into your cunt. The soft shuffle of fabric as his other hand drops, as he frees himself without looking.

Preparing his cock to replace his fingers as soon as he feels you drip onto his tongue. It won’t be long, not with the sounds he makes.

A low sigh, the wet, rhythmic suck as you take his fingers. Curling the tips to stroke against a soft spot inside that has you clenching around him.

Rumbling words and warm breath between your thighs, punctuating the flick of his tongue.

“Tight little cunt.”

“Need to make you cum before you take me.”

Words escape you. Twisting in your brain, only to escape as half-hushed sounds. A tightness stringing through your body, as he threatens to wrench something from you.

With the pump of his fingers and the pull of his voice. Tender words twisting up and around you as it feel like a countdown flares to life in your belly, ticking down with each swipe of his tongue, the pointed curl of his fingers.

“Boba,” You moan, and it’s a filthy thing. A harsh, strung-out moan as your breathing turns short. Each one turning into a soft “oh!” as he hums.

“Fuck, ah-, don’t stop-”

And you know he won’t. Intent behind every movement, as his hand leaves himself to smooth over the curve of your ass.

Three, and then two, and then one.

And then you’re burning, a bright spark that begins low and then spreads throughout your belly. Coursing down your limbs with a blinding, pulsing pleasure.

Your muscles stringing tight as you rock into his tongue - trapped between his chest and the wooden tabletop.

The moan muffled where you bury your face in the discarded shirt. Worried about crying out too loudly - alerting the others out on patrol.

He is not. A rasping growl as his fingers slide free, leaving you empty. Replacing them with his mouth as he spreads you open, leaving streaks of slick on your skin.

Letting you ride out your orgasm against his tongue, leaving his lips and chin smeared with you.

Waiting until all of your muscles go slack, before he pulls away

There’s a low hum, the creak of wood as he pushes himself to his feet. The hot, swollen curve of his cock brushing against your core.

A slow drag as he tucks himself flush, rocking his hips forward as he fits between your spread thighs.

“Have you had your fill, princess?”

Even with the sharp throb of arousal, he’s content to leave you like this. Loose-limbed against the table - a pretty enough sight for him.

But for you, it only makes you crave for more.

A strength coming back as you push yourself up again. Twisting yourself so you can see the parts of him he’s bared.

Lingering, for the briefest moment. Never thinking you’d get to see him like this. The thick curve of his cock making you wonder how heavy it would feel on your tongue.

A thrill in your belly at the way the flushed tip gleams, all from tasting you.

There’s the tap of his hand against your ass then, a gentle squeeze.

Your head shakes, your teeth sinking into your lip as you risk another glance. Lingering on the peek of skin above, the dark trail of hair leading down.

A second, as your thoughts come back to you - the slightest hesitance.

“I want all of you.” This part is easy to say, because you do. Desperately. “But I don’t have… anything.”

You never thought tonight would end up like this. Never thought you had to worry about what passed as protection, now.

He steps away from you, and you’re immediately missing him.

“We can stop.” His voice is low, but not unkind. Your nose scrunches because you very much don’t want to do that, but then he’s speaking again.

“But-” He catches your hand, brings it to the curve of his hip. Giving you a second to twist around, to press - feeling the slightest something beneath the skin, “This is an implant, very effective. It’s your choice, princess.”

Your hand drifts from his hip, then down. Trusting him, as your fingers curl around the base of his shaft - gently squeezing as you hear his soft groan behind you.

“Fuck, please-” You sigh, as you bend again.

Angling him against you as he hums in amusement - letting you try to line him up, in spite of the angle.

“Easy now, princess.” He rasps, as his hand wraps around yours - warm and firm.

The other curling against your hip, an intake of breath as he nudges against your slit.

“Tell me again,” Boba commands, with a slow sweep - pressing just barely against swollen, soaked flesh.

You don’t know if you can take much more teasing, “I want you. Please fuck me, please-”

He makes a low sound then, a strained groan in his throat. A pressure, as he starts to sink inside. First the blunt head - only to draw back, as you clench around him.

Then, another thrust.

Fingers biting into the table at the slick slide of his length. Each one inching him deeper, as you sigh.

The final punch of his cock steals your breath. A soft gasp at feeling so full, in that moment where you can feel his stomach pressing into your back.

Pinning you against the table, before he’s rocking back. Feeling the drag of his cock - almost all the way out. Nudging it’s way deep again, with a smooth thrust.

Picking up, as his hands splay flat against the table. Using it for leverage as he sets a steady rhythm.

Pounding into you, as you back arches. Doing your best to rock back and meet him, as that pressure bleeds into pure bliss.

The flickering lantern rattles with the force of his thrusts, jolting when your hips bump against the table. Again, and again - until a hand leaves the grip he has on your hip.

A finger looping around the handle. Reaching to set it on the knee-high crate, instead of the floor.

All the better for him to watch, to see. The perfect height to illuminate the shine of his cock as it disappears into you. The way your thighs glisten with your first release, while he works you towards a second.

If you thought you were a mess before, it’s nothing compared to now. Each breath no more than a gasp, with the way he’s pounding into you.

Your hand drifts then, sliding across the wood - trying to slip between your thighs, press where his tongue had been.

His own hand leaves the table to wrap around your waist, pressing between your breasts.

Tugging you back, and then up - until you’re curving against his chest. Your fingers forgetting their path as they curl around the edge of the table for balance.

Lips brushing your ear, his voice a low rumble, “I’ve got you, princess.”

Wanting to do this, himself. To pull every orgasm from you tonight with the press of his own fingers.

Canting his hips upward - seeming to drive even deeper as his other hand traces across your hip. Over and down, until it’s swirling against slick skin.

Finding the tight bud of your clit, a low hum when you whine as he presses down. Making your back arch further, toes curling as he begins to circle.

Winding you up, like before. That build of pleasure accelerated by the sound of his grunts and panting breath in your ear. The way he cock drags inside you, filling you so much that it’s impossible not to feel every inch and ridge of him.

“Fuck,” He groans, filthy in your ear as you clench down around him - as if you’re trying to keep him buried in your tight heat.

The rough gravel of his voice make you moan. His breath warm where it fans against a bare shoulder as his lips press to the spot under your ear.

“Taking me so well.” He sighs, with the scrape of teeth against your skin. No longer sounding quite so put-together, his voice losing that aloof edge, “Want to feel you come on my cock. One more time, yeah?”

The words are muted in your ears. Your heartbeat thudding louder, a steady drumming as you’re brought closer and closer to the edge.

“Yes,” You manage, the word coming out ragged, “Oh my god, I’m close-”

Grasping onto the table is no longer enough. Your hands twisting behind - wrapping into robes and around the edge of chilled armor as you cling to him.

Nothing to mute your cries other than the clenching of teeth, the whimpers still slipping between to be caught by the wind.

He grunts as you grind into his thrusts, your head tipping back against his shoulder. Muscles stringing tighter and tighter, as you try to tell him, warn him.

“Oh, oh, I’m gonna come-”

Barely getting the words out, before the pleasure tears through you. A shift of his arm - a mercy as his palm presses against your mouth, muffling the sound of your cry as he growls in your ear.

“Fuck, that’s it. That’s fucking it, come on-”

Too far gone to hold it back yourself, too caught up in the way you seem to radiate from the inside out.

A humming groan as he feels you, the tight pulse of your cunt as you come - those sharp thrusts turning into a slow grind.

Slicking him up further, dripping down his cock. Fingers keeping their steady rhythm as your hips buck, riding it out until the pressure starts to twinge.

Only then, does his hand lower. Pressing again against your heaving chest as your head tilts.

A hiss of air through his teeth as you mouth at his jaw with contented sighs. Those sounds dropping low as he shifts - leaving you empty as he pulls from you.

You whine, before he’s fitting himself between your thighs. A slow slide as you shift your legs closed, his cock tucked between your legs and pressed snug against your pussy.

A thrust, and then another. It won’t take many, not with the memory of you coming on his cock, the way your lips press again to his throat.

His breath coming in short huffs, hands gripping at your hips and moving you to the rhythm he wants.

Fucking your thighs, so slick with your release. Nearly overcome with your murmuring encouragement, the way you can’t help but look down - admire the peek of his cock when his hips are flush with yours.

“Gods.” He snarls, and then his fingers are pinching - your hands flying to the table again as his chest flattens across your back.

“Fuck. Fuck-”

He spills himself - each streak dripping down between the table top and the bench with the force of his orgasm. The grind of his hips leaving him sticky on your thighs, a low growl with each twitching throb of his cock.

Keeping himself pressed flushed for a few long minutes - the sounds of your joining petering out, as your heartbeat returns to normal. As he softens between your thighs, as arms and fingers finally relax.

There’s a softness in the way Boba kisses you after, a press of his lips against your shoulder. A hand petting across your hip, pressing slow, soothing circles.

Eyes averting politely as you tug up your clothes, as he kicks dirt over his mess - he’ll clean it up later, in the morning.

When you settle back on the bench, his arm rests across the tabletop behind you. Letting your head dip against his shoulder as he tucks you into his side.

“I’ll wake you at sunrise, sen'ika.” His voice soothes, as you feel your eyelids getting heavy. Warm in his embrace, something you’re not used to.

A little sigh, as you wiggle closer. Gloved fingers trailing against your arm, in a soft looping pattern. Your mind wandering as you start to drift off, thinking you can ask now - about that name he calls you. A fixture since that first day - something you've thought about endlessly, but never had the courage to ask.

"Boba?" Your eyes crack open, as he makes a sound of acknowlegement, "What does that mean? That name... sen'ika?"

The question comes out sleepy, mumbled - punctuated by a yawn.

"Go to sleep, little bird." Boba's words are pointed, but you think you can hear a smile in them.

You grin, as your eyes close again. A coziness in his answer, settling over you as your thoughts go quiet. As your cheek presses against the cool metal of his armor.

Uncertain if he has anything more he can offer, beyond tonight.

Out here, trust and tenderness carry a weight you’ve never known before. Actions have a currency that wordsno longer held. Things left unsaid - because there’s an ache in everyone now, and sometimes it’s too much to voice them.

After all, this is the Wasteland. And you’re a scavenger, now.

You’ll take anything you’ve been given.

Ahh their conversation in the cabin and the storytelling in the last chapter were the first scenes I had mapped out when I started this (back in Jan!) so it feels so exciting to get to this chapter! Thank you for reading 💚 part viii will be out thursday, the 20th! and if you’d like to get tagged, please fill out the series taglist here!

(0-pressure tags 💕: @spaceydragons, @luladoll, @obiknights, @wingofshadow, @bobathirstaccount, @reluctant-mandalore, @ohheyitsokay, @floral-force, @valentine-tx, @ri-a-rose, @dreamlandcreations, @vellichormybeloved, @writeforfandoms, @winchestershiresauce, @monada43, @rescuethewretched, @thegalaxys-edge, @honeydjarin, @ray-rook, @dumfanting, @bedky, @thirsty-boba-fett-posts, @dukeoftheblackstar, @lifelikefae, @pentaghasm, @izbelross, @margowritesthings)

#FINALLY #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x reader #boba fett x female reader #boba fett imagine #boba fett smut

[thefalloutwiki]

Fallout: The Roleplaying Game: New Releases!

Today, Modiphius Entertainment opened up pre-orders for the first supplement book for Fallout: The Roleplaying Game, the Settler's Guide Book. Here is a brief excerpt from the product description:

“The Settler’s Guide Book includes a huge amount of content for both players and gamemasters. Whether you’re building settlements, encountering factions, or just want some new companions and side arms, this book has something for everyone! There’s no place like home, but this guide is the next best thing!”

Several new character origins are also introduced with this, including “Commonwealth Minutemen, New California Republic, robots and more.” Pre-ordering the physical version today grants access to a digital PDF version instantly! Standalone PDF purchases will follow suit after the physical version ships in November 2023.

https://modiphius.us/collections/fallout-the-roleplaying-game/products/fallout-the-roleplaying-game-settlers-supplement

Modiphius' late 2023 and 2024 lineup to Fallout: The Roleplaying Game has also been revealed.

* Map Pack 1: Vault (Q4 2023) — Featuring poster maps of a Vault’s multiple levels and a booklet containing a complete quest across that location. The maps are 32mm scale and are therefore also perfect for use with Fallout miniatures. * The Wanderers Guide Book (Q1 2024) — Featuring new character options, equipment, scavenging locations, and an extensive wasteland bestiary from the New California, the Mojave, Appalachia and more. * Map Pack 2: Wasteland Locales (Q2 2024) — Featuring poster maps of wasteland areas and a quest booklet usable with those maps. * Royal Flush Campaign Book (Q3 2024) — The next big campaign book takes players to the West Coast wastelands and New Vegas.

Late 2023 will show us our first Map Pack for the game! Q1 2024 will release with the second installment of Guide Books, while Q2 2023 will release with the second Map Pack. Q3 2024 will bring player's back to the West Coast and New Vegas, which is especially exciting!

We're looking forward to these upcoming books, and we hope you are just as excited as us! :)

#fallout wiki #independent fallout wiki #fallout #fallout series #fallout new vegas #fallout 4 #fallout 3 #fallout the roleplaying game #fallout 1 #fallout 2 #new vegas #new california republic #minutemen #vault #fallout 2d20 #fallout news #fallout wiki news #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop #ttrpg #fallout ttrpg

[wastelandwhisperer]

Wasteland Woes: A Legacy Challenge

Hi! So I haven’t seen a ton of Fallout inspired challenges (except for @luxelattesims​​​ ‘ Vault one which you should also check out), and I wanted to try and make my own. This is very simple and up to a lot of interpretation! The premise of this is to do regular things in the Sims with the aspirations and goals but with some Fallout inspired things on the side. Aging, neighborhood stories, etc are all up to you. 

Note: this challenge will require a lot of packs like Strangerville, Cottage Living, Outdoor Retreat, University, etc. 

Aspirations and their subsections are here

Gen 1: Vault Dweller 

Your Sim has been dropped into the new world after the end with only the clothing on their back. It’s your goal to figure out what caused the end of the world, survive, and possibly find love out in this wasteland. 

Move to Strangerville

Aspiration: Strangerville Mystery 

Household lot must have Simple Living and Off the Grid

for extra challenge you can add Grody and Filthy 

Have at least one romantic partner

One child will be the next heir (adopted or having)

Make friends with at least 4 other Wastelanders and have them move in

Gen 2: Lone Wanderer 

Your parents found love and happiness in the Wasteland, but you just want to get out and explore. 

Move to another world (I recommend Evergreen Harbor) 

Aspiration: Outdoor Enthusiast 

Household lot must have Simple Living and Off the Grid

Have at least one child (whether adopting or having) 

Complete at least one collection (fish, gems, etc) 

Gen 3: Wasteland Whisperer 

While your family explored the wild wasteland, you found a love of animals. Now all you want to do is have your own little piece of land with some critters. 

Stay in the world or move to another

Aspiration: Country Caretaker 

Have at least 1 cow, 1 llama, and chickens

There’s mods to add other animals here by @kalino-thesims​​  

Collect as many plants as you’re able 

Household lot must have Simple Living and Off the Grid

Have at least one child (whether adopting or having) 

Gen 4: Nerd Rage

Growing up on the farm made you realize you didn’t want to live a simple life anymore. You want to learn about everything and anything. It is up to you whether you use this knowledge for good or evil.

Stay in the world or move to another

Aspiration: nerd brain and/or renaissance sim 

Household lot must have Simple Living and Off the Grid

Make a robo companion (servo) 

Achieve level 10 research and debate skill

Have at least one child (whether adopting or having) 

Gen 5: Local Leader

While your family loved learning new things, you wanted to be in charge. You either fell in with a group of settlers or raiders and climbed up the ranks. 

Stay in the world or move to another

Aspiration: Leader of the Pack 

Can either be for a leader of a good group or raiders

Household lot must have Simple Living and Off the Grid

Reach level 10 in crafting and fitness 

Ask at least 4 Sims to move in with you

Retire somewhere after choosing your next chain of command

Some fun Fallout mods: 

My own cc: Vault Suit, Vault Suit Extras, Nuka Cola Jumpsuits, Fallout Billboards, and Grungy Tops  (maxis match)

Synth skin & eyes: here (creator is Hagalazsims) (Maxis-mix)

 @surely-sims​​ Fallout 4 objects: here, here, and here (maxis match)

@litttlecakes​​ Fallout 4 objects: here  (maxis match)

@gen-sim​​ Synth eyes: here  (maxis match)

@remussirion​​ Hancock: here (alpha)

@plazasims​​ Vault Suit and Pipboy: here (alpha) 

@sforzcc​​ Fallout Conversions: here (maxis mix) 

@aniraklova​​ Raider/Badass Clothing/Accessories: here (maxis match) 

Plus a ton more! There’s lots of creations people have made or converted that’ll fit the end of the world vibe. The gallery has many amazing builds which I highly recommend using. 

#legacy challenge #sims 4 legacy #sims legacy challenge #sims 4 #the sims 4

[uesp]

“The Dunmer are the direct descendants of the Aldmer, the First Folk, the original settlers from the mythic isle of Almeris. From them the Altmer, the High Folk, descend, though these Elves have since wandered from the path of their ancestors. Many other groups have sprung off these so-called Ancients—the Wild Elves, Wood Elves, Sea Elves, Dwarves, and even Orcs. But only the Chimer, the forebears of the Dunmer people, remained true to Aldmer culture.”

--Excerpt from Our Dunmer Heritage

Image is Unite the Houses from Legends

#UESP #Lore #The Elder Scrolls #Elder Scrolls Online #Legends

[mecthology]

The Dark Watchers from American Folklore.

The Dark Watchers are a group of mysterious dark human-like creatures who stand on the hills, ridges, and peaks of the Santa Lucia Mountains of California and Mount Mingus and Mount Graham of Arizona. They supposedly watch those who wander into the mountains and are not aggressive. They are most often spotted around twilight and are usually seen staring upwards toward the sky while standing atop the mountains. They seem to be some sort of spirits however their origins are currently unknown.

According to legend, no one has seen one up close and if someone were to approach them, they disappear.

While sometimes attributed to the Chumash people who historically inhabited the central and southern coastal regions of California, nothing analogous to the legend appears to exist in their mythology. When Spanish Settlers first moved into the area they were said to have witnessed the Dark Watchers whom they dubbed Los Vigilantes Oscuros.

The Dark Watchers are most famously given a brief mention in John Steinbeck's "Flight", included in the 1938 collection of his short stories The Long Valley. It is mentioned that " No one knew who the watchers were, nor where they lived, but it was better to ignore them and never to show interest in them".

According to newspaper archives in the mid-1960s, a Monterery Peninsula local and former high school principal went on a hiking trip in the Santa Lucias when he suddenly spotted a dark figure standing on a rock and surveying the area. When the principal called out to the other hikers, the creature vanished. More sightings continue to be made to this day.

Follow @mecthology for more lores and legends. DM for pic credit. https://www.instagram.com/p/CnSxwY1oDJB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#Folklore #California #creepy #mecthology #urban legends #paranormal #unsolved #weird #scary #legends #america #follow