The animation system in Fallout 4 is designed to procedurally animate each character based on a set of animation states (which determines their expression and stance). In addition, this is also applied to the character’s mouth, which has them form different mouth shapes based on the sounds they’re currently speaking, thus saving significant time on animation overall. 


hlp plz 

need blpgs to follwq

dqsh is empty

reblg if u lke stuf like:

  • panic! at the disco 
  • my lovey sunshine beebo 
  • youtubers (dan & phil, dodie, pewdiepie, crabstickz, jack & dean [together & individually], etc [you know, all the cool youtubers]) 
  • stupidly funny memes (ex. pepe, dat boi, any spongebob memes, hs musical, etc.) 
  • other musicians such as:
    • melanie martinez 
    • tøp 
    • troye sivan 
    • styx
    • the 1975
    • relient k
    • irontom
    • david bowie 

 p.s. if u knw/lke any f thse, messge me, lets b frens 

 p.s.s. if u don’t knw sum f thse, look em up, they’re all prtty dopeee, if u need suggestions hmu

hurryupfic  asked:

maybe some kinda myth about a god/immortal falling in love with a mortal?

Link was ten, and he listened to the stories about the gods - about people who asked for shelter, for kindness, people who looked ordinary but knew too much, asked too little, said nothing. People who vanished without warning and left a gift of immeasurable fortune behind to those who were kind, a curse to those who were not. People who revealed themselves and spoke as gods.

Folktales, people said, ways to teach children to be brave, clever, kind.

Link wanted to be all of those things, and he listened to the tales.

Link was twenty, and he heard about him before he saw him - a man, white-haired but young, going from person to person to ask for a night’s shelter.

Each time, the man was turned away, but Link believed in charity and thoughtfulness, so he went to him and asked,

“Do you need a place to sleep tonight, traveler?”

The man smiled at him, with hair like snow and eyes like gleaming metal, and without offering a name, replied, “I do.”

“Come with me,” Link said, and the man’s smile widened and he dipped his head in gratitude.

The man came with him and they spoke, they spoke for hours, and Link found the man to know just enough, to know history and culture and languages, found him to be bright and friendly and talkative.

By the end of the night they sat close and brushed and both of them smiled, and Link felt warmer and more comfortable in his own home than he ever had before.

He never gave his name, and he vanished the next day, leaving a book Link had mentioned over the night.

Link was thirty, and he saw the man again. He wasn’t asking anyone for anything; he sat by the pond and watched the fish, and when Link came he wave and smiled, as if he’d known Link would come all along.

Link took him home anyway, and the man didn’t give his name, but he did tell him about faraway lands and the studies of the philosophers and the traditions of others.

Link listened, told him in turn about the town and the children and the few teachers at the school, and in the morning, the man vanished and left behind  pile of chalk and new slates, untouched and enough for twice the students they had now.

Link was forty, and he never saw the man. He was attacked in the streets by a man he barely knew, not as skilled but too big and too strong, and he woke up a day later with no wounds and hardly a memory of what had happened.

His attacker has vanished; no one saw him for the next week, month, months, and he is taken for dead or a runaway.

Link was fifty, and he was sick. He saw the man again and did not ask for his name, looked past the agelessness, the youth, to the man’s concern.

And he has to smile.

“I will not die today,” he said.

“Not today,” the man agreed, and he reached to take Link’s hand.

Link was sixty, and the man came again. He was as young as ever, his eyes bright and expectant, and he held out his hand and asked,

“Do you want to come with me?”

Link thought about it, and then took his hand and stepped forward.

“Will you tell me your name?” he asked.

The man smiled, and he looked pleased but unsurprised.

“My name is Allen.”

anonymous asked:

how about one kind of like the changling child short story you posted a while ago, and the whole town thinks Allen is a fairy child (optional plot twist, it's actually Link)?

*smile* The changelings in that story set were thinly disguised autistic people, anon. I like the prompt though! I’ll just be taking it in a slightly different direction.

By the time Link is four, he still hasn’t spoken. He can hear just fine, though, so while he pats his hands against the ground, nodding his head to the rhythm of his parents’ words, he hears ‘changeling’ and ‘fae child’ and ‘dangerous’.

He isn’t bound in iron chain or run through with a silver stake, but he does get left in the forest for the fae to reclaim. They never do.

He runs his fingers against the bark of a tree and wonders why not, but instead of dwelling on it, he decides to walk. He has to end up somewhere, he figures, and hopes he ends up back home. It’s too quiet here, without the sounds of the spinning wheel or footsteps on wood, and the birds are too shrill; his ears hurt and he feels cold.

He finds his way out of the forest, eventually, but he doesn’t recognize where he ends up, and he’s frightened, now, and his mind is on fire. It hurts, and the town is too loud, too busy.

The space by the baker’s shop is warm, and he hides there, covering his ears and crying.

Eventually, he smells baking bread.

By the time Link is six, he’s spent more time by the baker’s than almost anywhere else; he likes the smell of baking things, and it’s warm, and the stale bread is easier to eat. He still doesn’t speak, but he listens and tries to absorb the knowledge of flour and sugar and temperature through the wall, and when he lingers after asking for leftovers.

When Link is seven, the baker tells him that he is looking for an apprentice, and Link finds his voice and asks, “Apprentice?”

Leverrier looks surprised, for a second, and then he almost smiles and he says, “I’d teach you to bake.”

“Teach me to bake,” Link echoes, and he smiles, quick and bright and hopeful.

As Link turns eight, nine, ten, Leverrier gathers a few more children, none his apprentice, but in other trades - Madarao learns smithing, Tokusa and Goushi hunting, Tewaku weaving and Kiredori butchery.

He takes a little of what each of them earn, but Link thinks nothing of it, and as time goes on, he learns to speak better, to be polite always, and most enjoyably of all, he learns to bake.

When Link is fourteen, another child wanders out of the forest, lost and confused and holding his arm to his chest.

Link finds him and blinks at him, and then he says, “Are you okay?” because you should be polite always.

“I- I think so?” the boy says uncertainly, and Link wonders briefly how you can be unsure, and then the boy goes on, “Who are you?”

“Howard Link,” Link says, and Leverrier was surprised when Link remembered that, but he heard just fine as a child.

“Oh.” The boy hesitates, and then offers in return, “I’m Allen. Allen Walker.”

anonymous asked:

How do you think Sheryl, Link, Tyki and Allen would react to their child telling them «how they met Mommy» (i love your blog :) )

(Thank you, dear!)

  • Sheril is ready and very excited to tell this story. The kid better get comfortable though, he’s going to be talking for a while.
  • He glorifies and sugarcoats it. He makes it seem like a scene right out of a novel. He claims it was love at first sight and the angels were singing. You watch on and have to hide a laugh behind your hand at how into this he’s getting.
  • While it wasn’t that fantastic, maybe it was a little bit of love at first sight. You weren’t sure if you believed in such things, but Sheril did, as he reminded you of that fact over and over again.

Originally posted by sala218

  • Link is surprised they are interested. Obviously it was way before there time, and he doesn’t see what would bring on the sudden interest.
  • He feels a little bad because it isn’t a very fantastic or interesting story to tell. Nothing exciting happened when you both met, but he tries to but some emotion behind his words as he retells the story.
  • Despite his story not being all too exciting, the kid can see his eyes light up as he recalls the day. If he hadn’t ever met you, he never would have had a family to call his own, and he is eternally grateful.

Originally posted by ogkillua

  • Tyki is a little surprised the kid wants to know, but he has no problem sharing the events that led to him siring them.
  • His story may actually be pretty exciting, and seem like it came out of a romance novel. Instead of hyping it up, he tones it down a little bit. He tells enough for the kid to get the gist of it.
  • After he’s done, Tyki confesses that some of the more exciting stories came after the fact. The kid finds this hard to believe because of what they just heard, even if it was the watered down version.

  • Allen’s a little embarrassed that they want to know. However, he is all too happy to share. The kid couldn’t help that they weren’t there for the meeting for obvious reasons.
  • He also probably has an exciting story, or at least he makes it seem like one. However, he doesn’t play it off as “love at first sight”. It wasn’t, really. But he does say how much he liked you from the beginning, even if it wasn’t initially romantic.
  • Like Tyki, he confesses that a lot more exciting stuff happened after the fact. He’d have to remember to tell them another time.

anonymous asked:

AU where Allen is the spirit that guides souls after they die and Link is a detective looking for a murderer and at first thinks Allen is responsible and tries to arrest him.

Wrong kind of myth AU, anon, sorry. *laugh* I’ll write a little for the first part though.

Allen saw the man often; there were many people, even outside those with multiple near-death experiences, who Allen saw regularly, and Officer Howard Link was hardly the only man who investigated murder for a living.

But Link - serious, intent, and just that little leap to intuitive that made him meet Allen’s eyes a little more often - stood out, and sometimes Allen lingered for a little while, watching him do the work that would, eventually, lay the soul to rest in a way Allen could not do.

Many people did that sort of work - but Link was always focused, always determined, and he always prayed for the lost souls when night fell, and perhaps it was that last that Allen remembered. Perhaps.

And then one day Link got there too soon, after the victim had died but before the killer left, and the first shot missed and the second shot hit and so did the third, and Allen crossed the room, passing through everything and feeling two souls manifest behind him, to crouch beside Link.

Link had fallen, of course, and looked to be at best half-conscious, but his eyes focused on Allen almost soon as he saw him, and widened. And then he frowned, and slumped a little more.

“Am I dead?” Link asked Allen, faint but not frightened, eyes still just as intent.

“Not today, Officer Link,” Allen said quietly, with a small, kind smile, and Link’s eyes closed.

He’d take two souls today, first one and then the other because killers never came with their victims, but not three.