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Troy Barrett Gets Proposed to at the End by timptoe
Fandoms: Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
21 Jul 2026
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Summary
Troy walks towards his stall, slowly, eyes darting around the display, trying to take in every detail at once. The sheer number of photos strikes him, and as he gets closer, he can see they’re all of him. Him with Hazy, and Roz, and coach. Him on the ice in full dress, and another in just pads in the locker room. Him with kids at the hockey camp, and signing shirts in front of the Centre, and volunteering at the women’s shelter. Candid shots, too. He moves closer, his fingertips tracing one shot of him at a coffee shop, head ducked mid-laugh, sideburns longer than he’s worn in two years. Another is more recent, midday on the Rideau, his arms outstretched like he’s mid-pirouette. Hundred and hundreds of pictures, arranged so carefully, so artfully, that they tell a story.
He swallows roughly, blinking back the burning in his eyes. This is a very, very weird goodbye present.
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Troy is absolutely sure Harris is going to take the job and leave him. It's what they both deserve.
Nah. Get loved, Troy Barrett.
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It’s too loud.
Everywhere.
It’s too…loud.
It doesn’t matter where he slips to. The solitude of the jungles of Vanaheim. The barren emptiness of Niflheim. The heights of the tallest mountain in Jötenheim. The depths of the most remote caves of Svartalfheim.
It’s just too fucking loud.
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Sindri attempts to grapple with the loss of his brother.
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Yeah, We Stole the Rainbow by timptoe
Fandoms: Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
14 Jun 2026
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Summary
“What does gen nine twelve sixteen mean?”
“What?”
“Over there,” Haasy says, pointing across the ice to where the Metros are also warming up. “On Comeau’s helmet.”
Troy looks up awkwardly from his hands and knees—his hips are always a little tight these days—and cranes his neck. And narrows his eyes. “That’s…that’s a Bible verse.”
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The Metros try to ruin the Centaurs' Pride Night. Love wins.
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It’s an information processing problem. He just needs more time.
This is Joker’s responsibility now. It has to be him. He knows what his job is, and he’s not going to fuck it up again. He can do this.
“All fleets: the Crucible is armed. Disengage and head to the rendezvous point. I repeat: disengage and get the hell out of here!”
He’s not leaving without Shepard.
How could he?--
A character study on Joker during the last moments of the Reaper War, and the choice he's faced with to leave Shepard behind.
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It was, truth be told, a minor miracle that the message had made it at all. With the Antaam spread throughout Antiva and Rivain, rumours of an explosion and then a dragon in Minrathous, refugees beginning to cross the Waking Sea with tales of a new Blight—a passage she remembers making all too well—the safe arrival in Kirkwall of something as fragile as a letter feels like nothing short of divine grace.
Acting Viscount Aveline Vallen wishes it had never come.
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During the events of Veilguard, Aveline gets a letter.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,899
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 9
- Hits:
- 26
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Summary
He dutifully crutches out of the airlock, accompanied by EDI’s mechanical voice intoning, “Mr. Moreau has disembarked.” Traynor’s right, EDI’s acknowledging only his presence. He turns on his heel on the ramp, then comes back through the airlock to “Welcome back, Mr. Moreau.” Her tone is much more mechanical than usual, too.
Play along.
And then he suddenly puts it all together. EDI, you’re a fucking genius.
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One hundred and eighty-one days in drydock on Earth. Joker and EDI figure out how to communicate.
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For the briefest of moments, he watches the look of confusion on her face when she doesn’t see him, and then annoyance as she spins around to find him—and then surprise, when she looks up and sees him floating a full ten meters above her, his eyes glowing blue, his body wreathed in blue fire.
“What the fuck?” she murmurs.
He just smiles and says, “Catch me.”
He closes his eyes, the blue energy disappears, and he falls.
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Jack asks Kaidan for help teaching her students before the final push to Earth.
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“I didn’t write this.”
I couldn’t make myself look at him. My tracing fingers started clawing at the page, as if I could tear the truth out of this thing that was like a book but wasn’t. “I don’t…I don’t understand. This is your serial. This is your writing. This…this is your—“
“Elf, I didn’t write this. I found this.” He gripped my arm roughly. “In the Fade. Don’t you get what this means?”
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After the events of Inquisition, Fenris is given a book-that-isn’t-a-book, and the chance to tell a better ending to his story.
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Whatever, it’s fine. It’s fine! So Aloy went off on yet another adventure without him—without them, not just him—and got a fancy new machine and new Zenith intel and a new girlfriend who, even by just talking about her, makes Aloy grin bigger than he’s ever seen. That’s a good thing. His friend is happy! She’s happy. His friend.
Stop twitching, eye.
“Well, would you look at all of this!”
And then there’s him.
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Post-Burning Shores, Aloy drops Gildun at Hidden Ember so that Erend can take him on to GAIA. Erend is, predictably, Not Okay With This.
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“A little late-night research, huh?” he grunts, moving toward the centrifuge. “What’s it—“
"No!" With lightning speed, Chakwas is up, out of her chair, and in between Joker and the centrifuge before either of them know what’s happened.
The silence hangs thick in the air, thick like biologic slurry, for too many long moments. He stares at her, face impassive. Patient. Waiting.
“It’s an…experiment,” she says when she can’t take the silence, or the stare, any longer, “that I’m running. Tracking.”
“Tracking what?”
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Two weeks after traveling through the Omega-4 relay—and, impossibly, returning—Karin Chakwas learns how to let go.
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“Anytime you want to share your secret plan for domination,” Cortez murmurs, “I’m all ears.”
“Let’s test it,” Joker replies. “Hold up a couple of fingers behind your back.”
Cortez shrugs. “Okay.” He shrugs, then stands upright, squares his shoulders, and puts his hands behind his back.
Joker’s fingertips buzz. Internally, he yells, holy shit, but aloud, he calmly says, “Ring finger and pinky on your right hand, thumb and middle finger on your left.”
Cortez’s eyes go wide.
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Joker, Steve, and that time Joker figured everything out because of their haptic implants.
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Kaidan groans.
“Oh, c’mon LT,” she says, impish mischief all over her face. “Get your head outta whatever funk it’s been since we left the planet of the apes and bask in the glorious mess of this shirt with me.”
He rolls his eyes, not at all in the mood for this. “‘Mess’ is the right word.”
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Sometimes, buying a terrible shirt can lead to life-changing revelations.
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Bailey kneels down next to the figure, gently takes his broken hand, feels the fingers weakly grip his. Something stirs within him, an emotion he doesn’t dare name, something he hasn’t felt since the Reapers took Earth.
Maybe it’s gonna be alright.
He squeezes back and whispers, “It’s Shepard.”
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Four times someone sees Shepard in pain. And one time Shepard finally, finally has peace.
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Kaidan wonders what Ashley would think about him using her candle like this. If she had been saving it for a special reason, or maybe had been a memento from her civilian days. He wonders if it had had any particular significance, why it had even been in her locker in the first place. He wishes he could ask her.
But he can’t.
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Kaidan deals with the guilt of surviving Virmire by holding vigil on the longest night.
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James scowls into the middle distance. By all rights, Joker should be furious. Yelling. Confining him to the Normandy. Bare minimum, he should be lecturing James the way his abuela used to when he’d disappointed her. But he’s not. He’s just…sitting there.
So James just sits there, too.
Uncomfortably.
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James isn't alright after Sanctuary. Joker pushes him to figure out why.
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You really thought he’d like it? Him? The guy from Orlais? You’re real thick, dwarf, real thick. He’s gotta be used to emerald-encrusted swords and ruby-red knives and gold-plated chamber pots. You really thought you’d impress him by treating him like some grubby dwarf, by giving him a rock?
Lacklon bellows in frustration, punching another tree. He yelps in pain again.
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Lacklon gives Roland a rock and immediately regrets it. Or: how to court your Orlesian boyfriend in the most ridiculous way possible.
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It’s the small comforts, Kaidan thinks, that matter most.
The sound of ocean surf. The gentle heat of the sun. A warm breeze on his bare back as he lands prone in the sand. The thunk of a volleyball as it lands a good few feet away from his outstretched fists.
Maybe not that last one.
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Kaidan Alenko and Anna Shepard enjoy a well-deserved vacation, full of the small comforts that make life worth living. Featuring: a Canadian who's terrible at beach volleyball.
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“Kaidan,” she pushes, her hand like steel on his shoulder, nose-to-nose with him now, “why can’t you let any of this go?”
“I don’t—“
“You’re not that dense, yes you do!” Ashley shouts. “Why?”
“I didn’t think so,” Shepard says.
“Because I’m in love with him!”
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Sometimes it takes major head trauma and an argument with a dead friend to get you to admit you've been in love with someone for three years.
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Of Butterflies and Flying Dwarves by timptoe
Fandoms: Dragon Age: Absolution (Cartoon), Dragon Age - All Media Types
09 Mar 2023
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Summary
“We need someone to make a distraction,” Miriam interrupts.
Lacklon glowers at her. “So light a sodding fire, I’m not—"
“And you yourself said throwing a hook would be too risky so—"
“Not as risky as riding a piece of magic fucking wood.“
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Hey, remember that spell Hira used to fly on a disk of pure magic? Qwydion sure does, and she's determined to make it work—whether Lacklon likes it or not.
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“Violets are blue
Roses are red
Your butt’s really cute
I’m…glad you’re not dead?”Jack groans in defeat, collapsing onto the table.
“Jack, what the hell is this?” Miranda says in disbelief.
Jack mumbles into the table, “A gift for Shepard.”
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Jack experiments with a new poetic form, and shenanigans ensue.