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Description
Gravel crunched underneath dusty boots as Walter approached the glowing lights in the distance, pain racking his ribs and his head throbbing. The match hadn't gone as well as he'd have liked, sure it started of well, him and Che managed to score a couple picks, getting control of the fight. Bloodhound even managed to scan the next ring giving them the edge. But it all went to hell as soon as she showed up.

His teammates hadn't been happy with how he froze, Hell, he himself was still fuming about it. It had been months since her ugly mug showed up in the games, so why on Salvo did Maggie still have such an effect on him. Sure she used to be his best mate but that alone didn't explain why he'd just up and freeze at the sight of her like a deer in headlights.

Pain shot through his ribs once again as the ground shifted from grass and gravel to clean solid concrete, his legs not ready to absorb the sudden impact. With a grunt he managed to pull himself away from his own thoughts. The match was lost, there'd be another one. No use dwelling on it.

The temporary housing he had been assigned was pleasant enough. Well trimmed hedges, pristine clean walls and architecture that seemed afraid of any sort of sharp edges. It was all designed to be as comfortable as possible, naturally Walter hated everything about it.

He missed the sounds of broken glass underneath each step, the shouts of rowdy young-uns eager to prove themselves in the bar over. The crumbling buildings and dirty walls spray painted with all sorts of obscenities. Sure, the little Bach the Syndicate provided him might've been “nice”, but it couldn't compare to the rough and tough life on Salvo, that right there was real comfort. His dingy apartment upon first joining the games was perfect for him. Unfortunately the most recent development of a certain love story had seen “Fuse” move in with his one true love, and so Walter had to keep his real location on the down low, less he affected the games precious ratings.

Reaching the door he began to fumble around for the keys while rubbing his latest sore spot. A sigh of relief escaped him as he clicked one of his vertebrae back into its correct position, Che's little drone wasn't too bad at fixing you up in a pinch, but it wasn't the best at dealing with the nitty-girtty. Used to be after every match he'd drag his team down Witt's place for drinks, a laugh and a proper check up if necessary. These days it seemed like he was always on his own. Che had her own drama to deal with and like hell was he getting involved there. And as for Hound... Well being the stars of the new directors latest piece of propaganda was all well and good. But truth be told? Between the fake declarations of love and rising tensions around the Talos natives little home planet, Walter would rather spend as little time as possible around them that he didn't absolutely have to.

With a twist of a key and the push of a wrist the door to his latest abode swung open. After only a week or two of the Salvonian's residence the place looked like it had been hit by a tornado of laundry and kola. Really though, Walter reckoned it was an improvement to the bland lifeless slate he had been given. Brushing a couple cans and bottles aside he strode into his apartment with a groan, slinging his gear off to the side, letting it clatter against the messy floor without a care.

“Ugh” He groaned to no one in particular. “What a match. I swear I'm about sick of this Soap Opera Bullshit” Sitting his rear on the nearby bed Walter reached down to find an unopened can of Kola among the mess on his floor. After a few seconds of aimless wandering he managed to come back up with a warm can firmly in his hand. A crack and a soft hiss sounded throughout the room followed by several gulps as the drink was sculled back.

“Ahhhh” Walter sighed, tossing the can over his shoulder with little care as it clanked and clattered into some corner. “Alright then, where'd you little rascals get off to this time anyway?”

As if on cue, slight movement from the bedside table would catch Walter's attention as several miniscule human forms became clear to him. The little men stood no taller than 4 cm, each waving their hands in excitement at the sight of their larger the larger than life legend before them. Immediately Walter would feel his spirits raise at the sight of the tiny fans.

He had managed to score them a few weeks ago, it seemed a bit weird at first, what cornering him in a bar with their offer to be “Shrunken down and kept as his pets”. He pegged it down to some weird kink, but eventually relented after they pestered him the whole night. After a few nights he was surprised to find he actually welcomed their company. The little guys didn't eat to much, didn't ask for much, and absolutely adored everything their “owner” did to them. Heck, a couple of them even kept winding up in his socks and briefs.

Such quirks and vices we're far from unwelcome however, If anything it helped remind Walter of home. Salvo wasn't exactly the most PG of planets after all. So after a few more nights he and the little guys had developed some sort of routine. He'd come back after a match and whine and moan about his current situation, and the little guys would praise him endlessly, by the end of the night Walter's ego was through the roof and the little guys got a chance to be up close and personal with their hero, questionable as that choice might be.

And as per routine it didn't take long for his tiny entourage to begin hooting and hollering his name. Within no time a grin had sprouted on the Salvonian's face, peaking out from under his moustache. They didn't quite have the volume for him to fully understand him, but he got the gist. Nothing got Walter in a good mood more than people cheering his name. And when said people literally worship the ground he walked on like he was some sort of god? Well, it was a hell of a feeling for sure.

“Alright, alright, chill out you little buggers.” Walter would laugh out, pushing himself off the bed to kneel in front of his nightstand. Cautiously he'd bring his arm forward, leaning his weight down on the little table and resting his hand on one of his socks. A small eep! would sound from under the dirty fabric as another of his little pets scrambled out from under the sudden weight, eliciting a raised brow from Walter followed by a hearty laugh.

“HA! oh mate.... that's an odd spot to nap, but eh, guess I can't judge too much huh?”. Letting the little guy crawl out a bit more to avoid being crushed, he brought his attention over to the rest of his gang. With a whir of servos and pistons the metallic limb attached to Walters side would swoop forward, playfully bopping one of the closer tinies on the head. Overwhelmed, the little man would fall to the ground dazed. Walter expected him to lie there in pain for a moment, but his expectations would be shattered as the little man eagerly jumped back up and leapt onto the mechanical finger. Amused by the, frankly pathetic, yet adorable show of bravado, Walter would raise his hand up a bit, taking a closer look as the shrunken human stared back with nothing but awe and wonder on his face.

Just like that whatever feelings Walter had been feeling earlier in the night were all but forgotten. This right here? This Is what he lived for, his adoring fans, the cheer of the crowd, and a good strum on his guitar to pass the night away. Even if all else went to shit, how could he sit there feeling sorry for himself when he had all he needed right here.

“Aww, bloody hell, how can I be upset when I got my lil fans cheerin for me?” Walter chuckled, a genuine smile beaming on his face for the first time that night. Despite all the drama and hardship leaving Salvo had brought him, all the tense sleepless nights, death threats, missing arms, fake relationship drama and even real relationship drama, his fans still loved Fuse. And what the hell, maybe that was enough for Walter to love being Fuse as well.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Behold! The result of a years built up resentment and denial at poor writing compressed into a single render! If you know me you probably know I'm less than happy with how Respawn has handled Apex in the recent years, more specifically their complete gutting of my favourite characters well, character. With the anniversary of the great tragedy that was making a fanon ship canon (a horrible decision really) I've decided to reaffirm my personal belief on the character of fuse out of pure pettiness and spite with this Head canon fuelling pic. No kink (except macro I guess) just pure fluff and a brooding space Australian coping with the real effects of selling out to a corporation that gives no shits about his personal feelings.

Description
Gravel crunched underneath dusty boots as Walter approached the glowing lights in the distance, pain racking his ribs and his head throbbing. The match hadn't gone as well as he'd have liked, sure it started of well, him and Che managed to score a couple picks, getting control of the fight. Bloodhound even managed to scan the next ring giving them the edge. But it all went to hell as soon as she showed up.

His teammates hadn't been happy with how he froze, Hell, he himself was still fuming about it. It had been months since her ugly mug showed up in the games, so why on Salvo did Maggie still have such an effect on him. Sure she used to be his best mate but that alone didn't explain why he'd just up and freeze at the sight of her like a deer in headlights.

Pain shot through his ribs once again as the ground shifted from grass and gravel to clean solid concrete, his legs not ready to absorb the sudden impact. With a grunt he managed to pull himself away from his own thoughts. The match was lost, there'd be another one. No use dwelling on it.

The temporary housing he had been assigned was pleasant enough. Well trimmed hedges, pristine clean walls and architecture that seemed afraid of any sort of sharp edges. It was all designed to be as comfortable as possible, naturally Walter hated everything about it.

He missed the sounds of broken glass underneath each step, the shouts of rowdy young-uns eager to prove themselves in the bar over. The crumbling buildings and dirty walls spray painted with all sorts of obscenities. Sure, the little Bach the Syndicate provided him might've been “nice”, but it couldn't compare to the rough and tough life on Salvo, that right there was real comfort. His dingy apartment upon first joining the games was perfect for him. Unfortunately the most recent development of a certain love story had seen “Fuse” move in with his one true love, and so Walter had to keep his real location on the down low, less he affected the games precious ratings.

Reaching the door he began to fumble around for the keys while rubbing his latest sore spot. A sigh of relief escaped him as he clicked one of his vertebrae back into its correct position, Che's little drone wasn't too bad at fixing you up in a pinch, but it wasn't the best at dealing with the nitty-girtty. Used to be after every match he'd drag his team down Witt's place for drinks, a laugh and a proper check up if necessary. These days it seemed like he was always on his own. Che had her own drama to deal with and like hell was he getting involved there. And as for Hound... Well being the stars of the new directors latest piece of propaganda was all well and good. But truth be told? Between the fake declarations of love and rising tensions around the Talos natives little home planet, Walter would rather spend as little time as possible around them that he didn't absolutely have to.

With a twist of a key and the push of a wrist the door to his latest abode swung open. After only a week or two of the Salvonian's residence the place looked like it had been hit by a tornado of laundry and kola. Really though, Walter reckoned it was an improvement to the bland lifeless slate he had been given. Brushing a couple cans and bottles aside he strode into his apartment with a groan, slinging his gear off to the side, letting it clatter against the messy floor without a care.

“Ugh” He groaned to no one in particular. “What a match. I swear I'm about sick of this Soap Opera Bullshit” Sitting his rear on the nearby bed Walter reached down to find an unopened can of Kola among the mess on his floor. After a few seconds of aimless wandering he managed to come back up with a warm can firmly in his hand. A crack and a soft hiss sounded throughout the room followed by several gulps as the drink was sculled back.

“Ahhhh” Walter sighed, tossing the can over his shoulder with little care as it clanked and clattered into some corner. “Alright then, where'd you little rascals get off to this time anyway?”

As if on cue, slight movement from the bedside table would catch Walter's attention as several miniscule human forms became clear to him. The little men stood no taller than 4 cm, each waving their hands in excitement at the sight of their larger the larger than life legend before them. Immediately Walter would feel his spirits raise at the sight of the tiny fans.

He had managed to score them a few weeks ago, it seemed a bit weird at first, what cornering him in a bar with their offer to be “Shrunken down and kept as his pets”. He pegged it down to some weird kink, but eventually relented after they pestered him the whole night. After a few nights he was surprised to find he actually welcomed their company. The little guys didn't eat to much, didn't ask for much, and absolutely adored everything their “owner” did to them. Heck, a couple of them even kept winding up in his socks and briefs.

Such quirks and vices we're far from unwelcome however, If anything it helped remind Walter of home. Salvo wasn't exactly the most PG of planets after all. So after a few more nights he and the little guys had developed some sort of routine. He'd come back after a match and whine and moan about his current situation, and the little guys would praise him endlessly, by the end of the night Walter's ego was through the roof and the little guys got a chance to be up close and personal with their hero, questionable as that choice might be.

And as per routine it didn't take long for his tiny entourage to begin hooting and hollering his name. Within no time a grin had sprouted on the Salvonian's face, peaking out from under his moustache. They didn't quite have the volume for him to fully understand him, but he got the gist. Nothing got Walter in a good mood more than people cheering his name. And when said people literally worship the ground he walked on like he was some sort of god? Well, it was a hell of a feeling for sure.

“Alright, alright, chill out you little buggers.” Walter would laugh out, pushing himself off the bed to kneel in front of his nightstand. Cautiously he'd bring his arm forward, leaning his weight down on the little table and resting his hand on one of his socks. A small eep! would sound from under the dirty fabric as another of his little pets scrambled out from under the sudden weight, eliciting a raised brow from Walter followed by a hearty laugh.

“HA! oh mate.... that's an odd spot to nap, but eh, guess I can't judge too much huh?”. Letting the little guy crawl out a bit more to avoid being crushed, he brought his attention over to the rest of his gang. With a whir of servos and pistons the metallic limb attached to Walters side would swoop forward, playfully bopping one of the closer tinies on the head. Overwhelmed, the little man would fall to the ground dazed. Walter expected him to lie there in pain for a moment, but his expectations would be shattered as the little man eagerly jumped back up and leapt onto the mechanical finger. Amused by the, frankly pathetic, yet adorable show of bravado, Walter would raise his hand up a bit, taking a closer look as the shrunken human stared back with nothing but awe and wonder on his face.

Just like that whatever feelings Walter had been feeling earlier in the night were all but forgotten. This right here? This Is what he lived for, his adoring fans, the cheer of the crowd, and a good strum on his guitar to pass the night away. Even if all else went to shit, how could he sit there feeling sorry for himself when he had all he needed right here.

“Aww, bloody hell, how can I be upset when I got my lil fans cheerin for me?” Walter chuckled, a genuine smile beaming on his face for the first time that night. Despite all the drama and hardship leaving Salvo had brought him, all the tense sleepless nights, death threats, missing arms, fake relationship drama and even real relationship drama, his fans still loved Fuse. And what the hell, maybe that was enough for Walter to love being Fuse as well.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Behold! The result of a years built up resentment and denial at poor writing compressed into a single render! If you know me you probably know I'm less than happy with how Respawn has handled Apex in the recent years, more specifically their complete gutting of my favourite characters well, character. With the anniversary of the great tragedy that was making a fanon ship canon (a horrible decision really) I've decided to reaffirm my personal belief on the character of fuse out of pure pettiness and spite with this Head canon fuelling pic. No kink (except macro I guess) just pure fluff and a brooding space Australian coping with the real effects of selling out to a corporation that gives no shits about his personal feelings.