WIP, sorta Wednesday?
Thank you for the tag @edaworks :D!
---
[Wasn't sure what scene to go with, so I randomly picked one? So uh, have some self-conscious Mac I suppose. Pardon any errors or wonky pacing.]
----
From the floor, the mirror reflected the mud clinging to his boots and the leather armor wrapped around his shins and knees. Darker stains peeked out between the mud and dirt, standing out against the muted greens and browns.
Stepping closer, he knelt down and met his own reflection. A spiderweb-like crack split his face in two, but he could see himself well enough to reach up and run his fingers over the dried mud across his face.
Maccready never thought of himself as someone concerned with appearances. He looked how he looked, and that was that. He preferred being cleaner than this, sure, but that was practicality, not vanity. It lessened his chances of getting sick, or catching some stupid infection or other.
He didn’t care how people saw him. He didn’t care that he did, indeed, look like he might have “wrestled with a ‘lurk”, but-
...Staring at the dark circles under his reddened eyes, the sweat slicked hair flattened to his forehead, the scatterings of uneven stubble across his chin and jaw, the hollow curves of his cheeks, and the dried blood dotted across his face- blood he knew for a fact wasn’t his own -Maccready couldn’t help but care, and care a lot.
He looked, ...different. He looked almost unrecognizable compared to his own memory. He looked dirtier, felt dirtier. He was thinner and colder. He looked tired, and christ, he really was tired. But more importantly, and more unnervingly, he looked just like the people he swore not to be.
Reflexively gritting his teeth into a scowl only made the image reflected back at him worse, and he faltered.
Suddenly, his mind wandered closer and closer to thoughts he really didn’t want to face right now. Thoughts of small trembling hands, and big brown eyes, and a promise he was failing to fulfill…
----
[Gunner life ain't fun apparently, especially not when you have conflicted feelings about your own morality and how far you're willing to push that morality to achieve necessary goals :)]
[But that aside, I started roughly planning this fic as like a, comedy/crack-fic-esque type deal? But as it's taken shape, it's gotten a lot less "comedy/crack-fic-y" than I originally planned. I'm not sure yet if that's a "good" thing or not, but we shall see I suppose. That said, I'm not going to abandon humor completely. It'll have it's moments.]
---
1 note
·
View note
i’ve been absorbing lots of apocalypse media lately and MAN i am enjoying the discovery that like. there’s two kinds of apocalypse.
a rotting kind, where things kind of fall away and disappear and are quiet and hard (the walking dead, the last of us, hollow knight, ‘in a week’ by hozier).
and a rising kind where things kind of burn up and bounce back better than ever (fallout new vegas, ender’s game, breath of the wild, ‘ain’t no grave’ by johnny cash).
immaculate
6K notes
·
View notes
Some concept art for the beastiary!
2K notes
·
View notes
bitches have complicated feelings about me due to my inconsistent swag
48K notes
·
View notes
ladies……. please, allow me. *immediately fucks it up*
39K notes
·
View notes
Uh, ✨her✨
Mateo just met Cait, he's terrible at lock picking so she's been proving herself quite useful so far. However, they don't share the same principles and philosophies of life, which tells me things won't go too well 🗿
We'll see!
772 notes
·
View notes
Photography by Peter Solarz
untitled
13K notes
·
View notes