mrninjapineapple
Prince of Planning and Plot Bunnies
Ryan | He/Him | 29 | INFJ | Writer | Gamer | Novice Fanfic-er | Wombat | A place for fanfiction and original writing of all kinds. Icon by the lovely @eluvisen
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Until the Casket Drops
When I first joined Tumblr (and the Fallout fandom), I wrote a number of Valentine’s Day ficlets for a bunch of creators to help me settle in the space. I always wanted to write one of these for the lovely @charomiami and have finally had that chance.
Valentina belongs to @charomiami
Johan belongs to the greatly missed @helloaschefire
Story is below the cut:
The house was cold.
‘No surprises there,’ thought Valentina as she sat, draped over the sofa, staring up through a large hole in the roof. The sky was a vibrant pink with golden bands streaking across in the dawn and as she watched, a lazy little cloud drifted by.
Not for the first time, she thought of where Johan could be.
It had been a week since they had left Sanctuary to look into rumours of raider activity by Tenpines Bluff. Johan, as General of the Minutemen, had naturally volunteered himself for the recon operation but Valentina had been persuasive, and persistent, enough to join him out in the field. It was the third consecutive mission she had accompanied him on but every single time, she felt as though she had to fight like hell just to tag along.
There was protective and then there was Johan.
After speaking to the settlers at Tenpines Bluff, they had travelled north around the cliffside and down into the gulch to find a suitable location to set up camp. Stumbling upon the house had been a godsend. It was nestled partly in a natural overhang and covered in ivy and thick foliage. She imagined what it would have looked like before the bombs fell, a beautiful secluded little cottage far from the bustle of city life in Boston.
Though it still held some of its beauty, four nights alone between its walls was beginning to take its toll on Valentina.
Johan had decided to check out Outpost Zimonja as it had been a regular haunt for various raider groups in the past. It was a few days away from the Bluff however and, in the meantime, the settlement needed protection in case the rumours of raider activity turned out to be true.
She had kept watch like she was supposed to, occasionally trudging up to the clifftop and scanning the landscape with her rifle; With Love. The biggest threat she had seen was an especially chubby mole rat but even that had been waddling away from Tenpines.
‘Defending the rear flank,’ she said aloud, imitating Johan’s instruction before he left. Cupid plodded over and pressed his nose under her hip to get her attention. She scratched between his ears and his head flopped onto her stomach, satisfied. ‘Just a nice way to tell me to park it while he goes out and has all the fun. Again. Isn’t that right, boy?’
Cupid’s ear perked up and he snuffled in response.
Being left behind was nothing new. Back when they had grown close, Johan leaving for a mission was commonplace and she understood that, as General of the Minutemen, his duties superseded much in his life. As their relationship had deepened however, she had felt more and more alone each time he left, as if a part of her had left with him.
It was more than reliance or dependency or even fear. She had seen him come back injured. Watched as the doctors patched up the scrapes and the bruises, been by his bedside when the knocks were more serious.
Valentina absentmindedly twirled her fingers through Cupid’s fur as she ruminated and enjoyed how soft it had become as it had grown out. It would need to be trimmed soon but she liked it while it lasted, planting a kiss on top of Cupid’s head and getting a whiff of eucalyptus.
She praised whatever force in the universe created soap and took another sniff, catching a lick for her efforts.
When they were prepping for the mission back in Sanctuary, Johan had tried to tell that five bars of soap for such a short trip was excessive and that she would be better off travelling light. She had drawn a line in the sand however, and the soap had stayed. She had even added an extra bar just in case.
Soap was non-negotiable.
But even soap couldn’t cure her boredom. She desperately wanted to move on and do something. She wanted to run as far as she could until she couldn’t run anymore but also wanted to just stay in Sanctuary forever and never leave.
There had been a strange pressure building within her recently; one she just couldn’t get rid of. She had felt it back at Sanctuary, at her home in Goodneighbor, even when visiting friends in Diamond City.
She had hoped some time out in the field would bring enough excitement to get rid of the feeling but it had continued to gnaw at the back of her mind.
She knew what it was. She had felt it when first waking up in Sanctuary, with Angel looking over her, and again in Goodneighbor, when she had begun to grow close with Johan.
She had been so many things in her life – her lives – that things became blurred from time-to-time. Pre-war blended with present day, people she would meet reminded her of people she once knew, places she had known were the same but different.
The juxtaposition could be difficult to manage.
Valentina paced the small room, following a wall until she hit a corner and then turning to move down the next, Cupid watching with piercing blue disinterest from his spot on the couch.
She turned down the hallway and looked over the bedroom before heading into the bathroom opposite. When she and Johan had arrived, the mirror had been more spiderweb cracks than glass but she had made it her first priority to repair it to halfway decent condition.
The bathroom was a sanctum. Her sanctum.
She stared into amber eyes which shone like molten gold in the soft light which streamed through the window and raised an eyebrow.
Wavy blonde hair cascaded down past her shoulders to her chest, styled loose and effortless. Sharp features, full lips, and high cheekbones drew the gaze to the eyes, where a playful menace always lurked just beneath the surface. She winked and picked a piece of lint from her bolero biker jacket, a gift from Angel long ago.
She had always liked the way she looked. Liked the effect it had on people. There was no shame in that, no arrogance. After all, her appearance was the first thing people saw, it was what people would judge her on before anything else.
She had learned how to utilise her image to her benefit. People would listen more and were far more likely to do what she wanted.
It had also led her down a path she had never intended however, a path that taught her everything she knew about using her appearance to get the results she wanted, a path which had ultimately led her to where she was today, for better or worse.
She would never had made it to the Commonwealth, never survived the apocalypse, without what she saw looking back at her. At the very least, she had to respect that power, that strength.
She had considered all of this before. It led to difficult questions and dangerous territory. It led to internal debates about whether or not her appearance had been a gift or a curse. It led to her questioning whether a new start in the Commonwealth had been worth losing everything else.
It led to staring at the bottom of a bottle and waking up with no more questions.
She shook these thoughts away, fixed a kink in her hair, gave her makeup a final touch-up, and left her reflection behind.
As she made her way back into the main room, a glint of light on the mantelpiece ahead caught her attention. Brushing away the thick layer of dust and grime which had built up over the centuries, she carefully moved a large shard of glass and picked up the picture frame beneath. The frame was broken and rotten and the glass had long since cracked but the image itself was still visible.
Gently wiping away the dirt with an old rag, Valentina stared into the faces of three people. A man in his early thirties with thick-rimmed glasses and a checked sweater vest over a shirt sat on the left of the image. A woman of a similar age stood beside him on the right with her hand on his shoulder. She wore a flower-print blouse and high-waisted skirt and wore her hair in a style which seemed to defy gravity. Between them, at the bottom of the image, was a boy of around eight or nine, with curly hair and a stripy shirt.
They were all smiling at the camera and she felt an icicle in her gut as a familiar pang of guilt echoed through her body.
William.
The name brought bad memories and a bitter taste to her throat, the guilt making her chest tighten slightly. The sensation caught her off-guard and she felt the rush of images in her mind.
The warm glow of a stage spotlight.
Headlights, a loud horn, and a deafening crash.
The clinical smell of a hospital room and the intermittent beeping of medical machinery.
The hiss of an opening cryopod and the first sputtering cough of a new life.
She tossed the picture back onto the mantelpiece and clutched her head, willing the memories away. Focusing on her breathing, she was dimly aware of Cupid whining with worry from somewhere in the room but the sound was muffled as if through thick cloth.
As she centred her mind on the simple act of inhaling and exhaling, she could feel her body respond in kind, relaxing until the tightness had almost entirely dissipated.
Her eyes flicked over to the broken refrigerator on the back wall, a half-bottle of whiskey gleaming within. She felt something at her legs and looked down to find Cupid nuzzling her shins before looking up with his tongue-lolling gaze.
She felt the last bit of tightness fade away and fell onto the sofa, Cupid leaping into her lap to give her kisses. She laughed and rolled to evade but he was too quick and caught her.
‘It’s not gonna happen today, is it, boy?’ she said between the laughter. She patted him on the back and he calmed, rolling over for belly scratches. She spared one last look towards the bottle of whiskey before giving him her full attention. ‘Not today, Cupid. No going backwards today.’
***
A knock at the door.
Valentina woke with a start and grabbed her pistol from the bedside table. Since the beginning of the mission, she had been forced to wear her armoured clothing to bed. Though it made for uncomfortable nights, she was thankful for its protection now.
She moved down the hallway quickly, each step graceful, perfectly placed, and silent. She had taken the time over the past few days to memorise the creaky floorboards and distributed her weight expertly.
Posting up at the end of the hallway, she aimed at the front door and scanned the room. Cupid was completely still, watching her intently for a command. She glanced out of the window. The sky was grey and she could see the brightening light of false dawn but any solid shapes were still too difficult to discern in the gloom.
The knock came again, louder this time, and she waited a few moments before stamping her foot three times.
She gripped the gun and stared at the door for what felt like a week, eyes and barrel trained for centre mass, just as she had been taught. It had been five days since Johan had left and she had been expecting him at any minute. But she had to follow protocol. Had to be sure.
Another knock came. And another. Then three in a rapid pattern followed by two slower ones.
She nodded along to the rhythm and bounded to the door as it finished, unlocking it to find a large silhouette in the doorway.
As he stepped into the house, Valentina pulled Johan into a kiss.
Although he was only six inches taller than her at 6’3”, his large frame made him seem taller still.
He had a lean, muscular physique with broad shoulders and strong arms, only accentuated by the armoured Minuteman jacket he wore. She pulled away slightly and took in his features. Fiery hair framed his face, tied back in a tight, militaristic bun and his beard was cut neat and angular and shaped to a rounded point.
Deep blue eyes were set between bold, distinct features. They stared back at her with love and mischief as he smiled, the skin around them crinkling.
‘Miss me?’ he asked with a grin. She had always found his voice soothing, fairly deep with a gritty undertone which spoke of a life lived.
‘Were you gone?’ came her teasing reply.
It was his turn to pull her in close and they shared a deep, passionate kiss. The smell of machine oil and ozone filled her nostrils and she couldn’t help but smile. The General of the Minutemen had always been a tinkerer at heart and the laser musket slung at his back was clearly his current project of choice.
Johan pulled back as if he had remembered something and dug into his pocket to produce a pearl earring, as pristine and shiny as it was when she had first laid eyes on it over 200 years ago.
It had been her grandmother’s favourite set and one she wore proudly on every possible occasion. When Valentina had taken them as a keepsake, she had kept them safe under the floorboards of her house in Sanctuary Hills and had been pleasantly surprised to find them intact upon waking from cryostasis.
She had grown so accustomed to Johan, as Minuteman General, leaving on missions for long stretches of time that it had become a ritual between them for him to take one of the earrings as a promise to return and bring it back to her.
She gently took it from him, handling it with a care akin to reverence.
‘I am glad you’re back,’ she said softly, pressing her fingertips against his chest. ‘Cupid and I have… noticed your absence.’
As if to reiterate her point, Cupid shuffled over, tail wagging, and gave Johan a quick boop in the kneecap before returning to his seat on the couch.
‘Glad the walls are still standing,’ Johan replied, closing the door and shaking the travel dust from his jacket. He strode across the main room and placed his laser musket onto the table in the corner before glancing around. He stared at the empty seat on the couch with a sour expression before flipping around a wooden chair from the table and hunkering himself down, leaning his arms over the backrest. ‘Everything been good?’
‘Nothing to report… unless chubby mole rats have suddenly become persona non grata in the Commonwealth?’ He gave her his best General stare and she flashed a bright smile. ‘What about Zimonja?’
‘Signs of recent activity but nothing to say they were raiders. Brahmin tracks and no bullets or bodies. All signs point to scavvers moving south on the road to Bunker Hill.’
‘I don’t know, the settlers up at the Bluff seemed pretty sure.’
‘More than likely its Palance seeing what he wants to see… again,’ Johan said, running a hand through his hair. Alan Palance was the settler in charge of Tenpines Bluff and, from the number of reports he had made in the past month alone, prone to flights of fancy. Johan sighed before continuing. ‘I’ve radioed ahead to some of the other bases to sweep the area just in case. If there’s anything out there, we’ll find it.’
Valentina loved seeing him like this; as the General of the Minuteman. She had met him some time ago in Goodneighbor when they were both in very different places, neither of them good. They had pulled one another up from the depths and she was proud of what he had achieved. Proud of who he had become.
Thoughts of the past pressed at the edges of her mind again and she pushed them back down as hard as she could.
‘Cap for your thoughts,’ he said, arching an eyebrow at her expression. His face shifted slightly as he looked at her and she suddenly felt exposed. It was a feeling she wasn’t familiar with. ‘You sure you’re okay?’
The mask slipped on in an instant. Her eyes were warm and comforting, her body leaned into the couch, completely and effortlessly relaxed. She painted on a practiced smile with consummate ease.
‘I’m fine.’
Even such a simple answer left her lips with a convincing energy.
Masterful.
Johan watched her for a few moments before his eyes flicked over her shoulder to the mantelpiece, the disturbed dust and propped-up picture frame attracting obvious attention. Valentina tensed for the questions that didn’t come.
‘I’m gonna go freshen up,’ said Johan as he stood. He placed a hand on her shoulder as he headed down the hallway and closed the bathroom door.
She let her smile fade.
It had always been so easy to wear the mask.
A warm smile for the instant rapport and trust it fostered; teary eyes to act the damsel in distress, ready to be rescued; a trembling hand to show frailty and weakness in the hopes of offered protection.
Joy, sadness, fear. Anything could be used as a tool, all you needed to do was master it.
She had learned that lesson a lifetime ago and it had served her well but she had also come to hate how easy it was to slip into. How easy it was to rely on.
As she had grown closer to Johan, she had been able to open up more but the mask was still a first resort, even after all this time. At the very least, he was one of the few people alive who could see through the mask, if only slightly.
The trouble was she didn’t know if she loved that about him or if it terrified her.
***
The stars were beautiful.
They hung like fireflies against the inky blackness above, swirling in great clusters in some places and sitting alone and distant in others. Valentina had always like how they looked, how they made her feel.
Perhaps it was because after two centuries of destruction and change, they were still the same stars she had seen as a child, peering out from her bedroom window. She watched them drift across the darkness and enjoyed the cool night air against her skin.
Pre-war, the night would have brought with it a myriad of sounds, from cicadas and chirping crickets to dogs and cats and talking and laughter from surrounding houses. The wind would whistle and blow through the trees, rustling leaves and rattling bunting and lines with small bells and wind chimes. The kaleidoscope of sound had always been a balm.
Now, everything was silence. Silence which should have brought a calm of its own but in the Commonwealth, dusk brought only danger. Anything which made a sound after the sun had set didn’t have good intentions. The silence just meant that whatever, or whoever, was out there was hunting quietly.
Valentina broke her attention away from the starscape and scanned the land. She could make out the moonlit peaks and crags of the surrounding cliffs and hills which gave both the settlement of Tenpines Bluff and the surrounding environs their name. A flash of movement caught her eye and her hand unconsciously reached for her jacket pocket before she realised she had left it back in the house.
It was an innocuous movement, one often seen in the Commonwealth. A glimmer in the darkness, any threat of danger, and a wastelander’s hands have to be quick to their weapons.
But it wasn’t her weapon she had reached for.
She allowed herself a small smile as she remembered her childhood back in Switzerland. Her father had been assigned there and each night, her grandmother would tell her stories of the Grim; a creature which stalked the nearby wilds, skulking through the countryside in search of prey.
The stories had given her nightmares as a child and even now, despite the dangers of deathclaws and yao guai in the Commonwealth overshadowing any fairy tale threat, she still kept small strips of dried meat in a pouch to bribe the Grim whenever she ventured into the country or mountains.
Give the Grim the meat you carry and then run as fast as your little legs will carry you or else he will gobble you all up!
She could still hear the words of her Grosi as clearly as if she had spoken to her yesterday.
As her mind drifted into reverie, Johan came out of the house and walked over. He silently draped a thick blanket over her shoulders and sat beside her. She absentmindedly leaned her head on his shoulder and they watched the stars without a word passing between them.
‘When I was young, I would carry around this little sheep plush,’ said Valentina after a time, breaking the silence. Her eyes remained on the sky but her mind was much further away. ‘Her name was Lady Blume. I took her everywhere I went. Shopping, playing, school. She was always there, right by my side.
‘I was around four when I lost her. We were on a train. We got off, she didn’t. I watched her through the windows but there was nothing I could do so I didn’t say anything. Didn’t even call out.’
Valentina raised her head from Johan’s shoulder and could feel him beside her, his breathing slow and even. He locked eyes with her. She continued.
‘Nobody knew I had noticed her on the train. So when they presented me with another plush, exactly the same as Lady Blume in every way, I acted relieved and surprised. I thanked them, took the toy to my room, and never touched it again.
‘They never told me they had replaced her, I never told them I knew. I think that was the first secret I ever had. Definitely the first I kept. It was always easy to keep, though. I guess it was how we showed we cared for each other, my family and I. Or that’s how I always saw it, at least.
‘I never told a living soul about Lady Blume until today.’
Johan’s eyes searched hers for what felt like minutes. He pursed his lips in the way that Valentina liked, when he was faced with a tough problem. It was the same expression he had worn when he first told her about Shaun, the first time he had opened up, way back when in a stuffy room in Goodneighbor.
‘I love you,’ he said simply. His eyes flicked from her to the ground to the seemingly limitless view around them, trying to find the right words. He took her hand gently in his. She could feel the calloused bumps and ridges. ‘I know it hasn’t always been easy but I’m here. With you. And that’s not gonna change.’
Valentina’s mind turned to the image of Lady Blume on the train as it moved away from her. Loved more than she knew, travelling further and further and further away, never to return.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I just… can’t lose you. What if on the next mission the Minutemen send you on, you-‘
‘Hey,’ Johan interrupted, moving his hands to her face. ‘I always come back, don’t I?’ He tapped her earring as if to illustrate his point. ‘No matter where I go, no matter how far away, I will always find my way back to you, Val.’
She turned her face away. He was right about that. Their arrangement had worked thus far but having seen him injured on missions in the past and being out in the field with him these past few weeks, gaining a true understanding of the dangers he faced on a regular basis, she knew that one bad day was all it would take.
It was a risk she couldn’t take.
Not with him.
‘I’m coming with you,’ she said, facing him. His expression hardened but her gaze brooked no argument. ‘After we head back to Sanctuary. From here on out. I don’t wanna have to fight you every time you head out. And I don’t want to be left behind just to wait, not knowing if a raider got off a lucky shot or if you were cornered by a pack of ferals.
‘I’m coming with you. Wherever you go, however far it is, I’m there. With you.’
‘I need to know you’re safe,’ came his reply. ‘I need to-‘
‘I am safe. Besides, what better way to keep me safe than to keep me close?’ Valentina gave a sly grin and Johan couldn’t help but return one of his own. He leaned his head down and she placed her forehead against his. She could feel his slow breaths quicken slightly. ‘I love you and I’m with you until the end. That’s all there is.’
She kissed him and felt his fingers trace her jaw and go up to run through her hair. He held her close and she leaned on his shoulder, nestling into him. She decided that love was an odd sensation as she felt the feeling deep in her chest, filling her with a surge of warmth. He planted a kiss on the top of her head and she watched the stars twinkle against the blackness before closing her eyes to enjoy the moment.
***
Valentina zipped her pack and stuffed her soap into her satchel. She hefted them both up, clipping them to both her tactical harness and bandolier to make sure that everything was completely secure before taking her rifle from beside the bed.
At the doorway, she took one last look at the rough bedsheets and thought back to the previous night. She reasoned that she must have fallen asleep outside and Johan probably carried her in, careful not to wake her. She smiled at the image of him creeping around the house with her snuggled into his arms.
Her eye caught a purple bottle on the other side of the bedroom and she cursed herself for forgetting such an essential travel item. She made sure it was safe in her pack.
No journey was truly complete without Nuka-Grape, after all.
She made her way into the main room and saw Johan by the fireplace, hunched over to examine the picture on the mantelpiece. Knowing what memories it triggered for her and having heard his stories of pre-war life, she could only imagine the images flooding his mind.
She intentionally stepped heavily on a creaky floorboard and watched as he straightened, turning to face her.
‘Everything packed and ready?’ he asked, pragmatic as ever.
Valentina turned a full circle to model her travelling gear. ‘You good?’ She glanced at the picture on the mantelpiece and a small smile grew beneath his beard.
‘I am,’ he replied earnestly. He looked at her pointedly. ‘You?’
She shuffled up to him and planted a kiss on his lips to answer his question and the faint taste of Salisbury Steak greeted her. She could make out the gravy on his lapel and chewed her lip to keep from laughing.
‘A good night’s sleep helped,’ she said as he headed for the door. ‘The Commonwealth is gonna have a hell of a time trying to get to you. It’ll have me to get through first.’
Johan chuckled and opened the front door. Cupid burst out, tail wagging, excited at the prospect of travel.
‘Jo and Val, together on the road? The Commonwealth doesn’t know what it’s got itself into…’ He turned at the threshold and offered a hand. Valentina merely raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s wrong? Don’t want people to see us holding hands? Or are you planning to run away? Maybe out west, to start your ranch…’
Valentina stuck her tongue out at him and took his hand.
‘I’m with you, until the casket drops.’
He smiled and nodded slowly.
‘Until the casket drops,’ he repeated, almost under his breath. ‘I love it.’
Together, Valentina and Johan walked out into the Commonwealth, the bright sun of the post-apocalypse warming their faces as they left the cold house at their back.
Valentina had never wanted to be an intelligence agent. She had never wanted to marry William. She had never wanted the world to end or to find herself in a wasteland of her old home. But life had never allowed her to choose. Through accidents, circumstance, and dumb luck, she had ended up where she was. Who she was.
Johan was not her first love. She had told him long ago that she would never marry again, that they could grow old and start a family but she would never marry him. He had stuck by her through the worst the Commonwealth had to offer and she had been there for his darkest days.
There was a bond forged between them which neither time nor distance could break. She was on the train, left behind by everyone she had ever known, ever loved. But now she was not alone. Would never be alone again.
Johan was not her first love.
But he would be her last.
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Sharing this post because I still love it and it seems to be my go-to post to tell everyone I still exist here and haven't scurried away 😂
Not on here as much as I would like but trying to keep more of an eye on things again!
My procrastination skills are god tier. Enjoy this terrible photoshop I made when I should’ve been working on my dissertation.
P.S - I’m still alive :P
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Commission for @briarfox13 of Spartan Hestia-113!
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As @yamisnuffles can attest, one of my most cherished Deacon headcanons is that the more emotionally compromised he is in his relationship with the Sole Survivor, the more aggressively platonic his language regarding them and their relationship becomes.
So the other night I was thinking on the dialogue above, which is how he closes out the main story if Sole sides with the Railroad, and it hit me that his dusty old philosopher is Plato, and he’s referencing the Noble Lie specifically.
Which means that Deacon, who is at this moment more relieved and happier than he’s probably been in decades, turns to the person who enabled said relief and happiness- his buddy, his meatshield, his pal- and expresses his immense appreciation for them with what is literally a Platonic lie.
Goddamn this frustrating, time-travelling shapeshifter.
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What do you think of the "revenge bad" tropes frequently found
it actually pisses me off sooooo much when characters are like “ohhh but if i hurt or kill the bastard who made my life and others’ a living hell i’m just as bad as they are!” like grow up and shoot him what are you catholic
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re: your ask about raiders. It may not be in fallout 4, but they do more than just those things you listed, they do worse. Have you played fallout new vegas and / or looked into Cook Cook and his gang? Yikes...
I’ve been replaying NV recently actually and I’ve just done that quest to kill Cook Cook and the other Fiends. They’re all despicable and I genuinely don’t get any defence of them or the lifestyle of raiders as a group.
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Do your characters always kill all Raiders? Even unprovoked? Pretty sure there are some out there that aren't violent and don't harm "innocents", would they kill them too just for being labeled a Raider?
Before I begin, I’m about to rail hard against raiders here. I hate them. My characters hate them even more. But don’t mistake this for me saying that people shouldn’t like raiders or shouldn’t create art/fic for raiders or their raider OCs. Some of my friends have raider OCs and the last thing I want is to make them feel uncomfortable with sharing their work. I’m just explaining my position and why my characters do what they do.
First off, what provocation would you need to kill someone who is part of a group which systematically murders, steals, pillages, and rapes their way across the Commonwealth? You say that there are some raiders who aren’t violent and don’t hurt people but there’s literally zero evidence for that. What there is evidence for however, is the disgusting, brutal, remorseless way that raiders live and how that affects the normal, innocent people of the Commonwealth.
I don’t know why you’ve put quotes around “innocents” as if you’re questioning whether or not innocent people actually exist in the Commonwealth. They do. I’ll take the Abernathy family as an example. Just hard-working people who run a small farm, trade what they have extra, and manage to eke out a life in the unforgiving wasteland. Until raiders came and demanded they hand over what they worked hard to produce. When they refused, the raiders killed their defenceless young daughter. There are stories like this all over the Commonwealth, stories of innocent people merely trying to survive having their lives uprooted and ended on the whim of raiders.
I mean, they’re called raiders for a reason. They raid. They raid settlements and take what they want because they can’t be bothered to work hard and grow their own food or purify their own water. They don’t want to be traders or farmers or vendors, they want to threaten these hard-working people into giving them what they want under threat of death or worse. They are literally parasites on the arse of the Commonwealth who couldn’t survive if it wasn’t for those “innocents”. Mary Abernathy, the people who entered the Gauntlet, the traders and settlers which litter and are strewn about in raider outposts and locations as grim décor. Did they deserve to die?
And while we’re on the subject of what raiders do to those who refuse them their unfair requests, death is the easy option. Kidnapping people and using them as slave labour is also a favourite pastime of raiders. Nuka-World is full of innocent people who were just living out their lives before Colter and his gangs came in, killed a bunch of them, and forced the rest into slavery. And we know from Cait’s backstory how slaves are treated – being passed around and sexually abused is the norm with slaves so the gangs in Nuka World most likely used their slaves however they wished. The Disciples alone revelled in gruesomely torturing innocent people, even keeping grim trophies.
But let’s take your assertion of “raiders who don’t hurt people” seriously for a second. What would that even look like? If you are in a raider gang, you raid innocent people, robbing and killing them to gain food, caps, ammo etc. If you don’t participate in the raiding, you profit from the spoils. You know what your cohorts are doing. You know what they’re doing to people. You’re complicit. There is no “good raider”. It’s a fallacy that doesn’t exist in-game. There are people like Mac who have been raiders (or close enough) and managed to reform but they are few and far between. The raiders who stay in a raider gang have made a conscious decision to stay there and whether or not they participate in the brutality, they are far from innocent.
In terms of why my characters do what they do, Marcus has seen the settlement he has rebuilt attacked by raiders, seen people he cared for killed for no other reason than they had something a raider wanted. He has also heard numerous horror stories from people who have travelled from around the Commonwealth. Valyn and Rae were child slaves who were systematically raped, tortured, and beaten by the raiders who held them. They revel in taking revenge. Grizz has seen the horrors that raiders have unleashed first-hand as he’s travelled the Commonwealth and feels no remorse in ridding the Commonwealth of what he sees as a plague.
So yes, my characters all kill raiders. Some see it as a necessity, others don’t enjoy killing but know it has to be done, and yes, a couple even enjoy it. But if you’re asking me why my characters kill people who literally take slaves, kill innocent people, torture them for fun, and rape and pillage their way across the Commonwealth, then I honestly don’t know what to say. It’s pretty damn clear to me.
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38 - Sole and Companion(s) give each other a personal keepsake
>.> So um...hiiiiiii. I er...totally forgot about this in my inbox. OOPS. Um...sorry for the wait.
38. Sole and Companions(s) give each other a personal keepsake
(I’m sure you can’t guess which companion XD)
The firelight dances across Deacon’s sunglasses in a way that leaves Julia transfixed. Regardless of how hard she tries, her eyes are drawn back into the flaming reflection. Such warmth held there, and all for her if she dares ask for it.
“If you keep on staring, I might get a complex,” Deacon laughs. The lopsided grin plastered on his face makes her heart flip-flop.
Blushing, she looks away, fussing with a lock of her hair. “Sorry, I just-” There really isn’t a decent reason she could give that didn’t make her sound like some sort of lovesick teenager. She certainly feels like one.
“-Got lost in my eyes? Don’t worry. Happens all the time. I’m used to it.”
Julia rolls hers. “Keep dreaming, Casanova.”
He cocks his head, studying her intently. “I want to.”
“What?” She breathes, gaze snapping back to his.
Deacon doesn’t respond, instead standing and walking over to sit beside her. He’s so close she can feel the heat radiating off him; she tries not to fidget. “Hey, there’s something I want to give you.”
The sudden seriousness of tone draws her back, and that reflection ensnares her once more. “What is it?”
“Close your eyes.”
Julia does so without question.
Deacon takes her hand and pulls out a small bundle from his pocket and places it in her palm. “Alright. You can open them.”
She does and a shock of surprise washes over her face. The object he gave is a quartered piece of cloth, worn but well cared for. There’s a small embroidery at the corner. A name. Tristan.
Brows furrowed, she turns a questioning gaze to him. “A handkerchief?”
“Open it up.”
“Oh.” Unfolding the cloth, she finds a small necklace with a locket attached to it. She holds it up, the firelight reflecting off the slightly tarnished surface. “A necklace? Wait... did this belong to Barbara?”
“And now it belongs to you.”
Julia’s eyes widen. “Oh no. Nonono. I can’t take this. It was hers. I couldn’t possibly...” She tries to hand it back to him.
He pushes her hands into her lap. “Too late. It’s yours. Besides, better you have it than it sit in my musty old pocket.”
“I... thank you.” She pulls the bundle tight against her chest. “I’ll keep it safe.” She turns her back toward him. “Would you help me put it on?”
“Um.. yeah,” he replies, voice slightly off. He fumbles a few times before it’s fastened safely around her neck. She tucks the handkerchief into the pocket of her shirt. One day she’ll ask him about the name embroidered there.
Julia isn’t sure if it’s a trick of the light, but he looks like he’s blushing when she turns back around. “Since you gave me something, I want to give you something, too.”
“That really isn’t necessary.”
She glowers at him. “Yes, it is. Besides, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Now it’s your turn. Close your eyes.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“No peeking, mister.” She leans forward, trying to catch a glimpse of his closed eyes behind tinted plastic.
“I promise not to peek.” His grin says otherwise, but she decides not to call him on it.
Julia pulls the long chain she always wears from her neck, taking his hand and dropping it into his before curling his fingers around it. “There.”
His eyes snap open, and he’s staring at the ring nestled in his hand. “Jules, I can’t take this.”
“Yes, you can because I’m giving it to you.” She leans in close, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips. “Wear it so I’ll know you’ll always come back to me.”
He actually is blushing now, and a delighted thrill shoots down her spine. “As you wish.” The chain slides over his head, and Nate’s ring silently settles just over his heart.
Julia rests her hand over it and smiles, watching the firelight dance in his eyes.
~~~
>.> hope it was worth the wait.
Prompts
#julia rickson#deacon#friends ocs#friends writing#ahhh i love it! 💖#beautiful as always#i always love these two!
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Commission for @asaara-writes of Sole Survivor Lizzy Oslow-Hayes!
commission info
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Prices:
Bust (no background) 45USD
Bust (with background) 50USD
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Send me reference images, a quick blurb of your character’s personality and your Tumblr username!
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Hey I need a prompt specifically for Julia and Nate because I feel like that tragedy hasn't been fully rubbed in our faces just yet. I like 68 but anything you come up with, please and thank you.
Sorry I took forever on this.
I started writing this with the intention of filling 68, but once I got into it, things just didn’t fit, so I wrote this for 9 instead. I hope you enjoy!
Julia and Nate were both being humongous butts and refused to speak to me. I was very put out.
9. “Do you regret it?”
Julia scowls, eyes tracing over the pristine bright blue tiles of the house. She hates the way the light catches on them, hates how neat and tidy it all is, hates how suffocating it makes her feel.
“Pretty great, isn’t it?” Nate beams, arm snaking around her shoulders to pull her close. Of course he loves it. A pretty little house for his new wife in the safe quiet of suburbia, and he was able to purchase it all on his own. Just the way he always wanted.
She can’t bring herself to ruin his dream. “Yeah. It’s… really nice. I like it.”
Julia closes her eyes and tries to forget her apartment in the city with its creaky pipes and old charm and how much she loved it there. Living in the city was of course more dangerous, but she adored the hustle and bustle, the hum of life the city provided. It was noisy, but vibrant. She felt so alive.
Not like here, where the quiet blankets everything. It feels like holding her breath, waiting for the inevitable end, and that honestly terrifies her.
She should be happy to have a husband who loves her and can provide for her like this, who wants her to have a home they can grow into. A place where she can build a family of her own. If only she could muster a spark of hope that this house could provide her that path. All she can see is a stifling rut of stagnation and rot, on and on until she is nothing more than a husk waiting for her final breath.
Julia wonders if she didn’t just make the biggest mistake of her life.
Nate turns toward her, concern on his face. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Pushing the unwanted thoughts aside, she plasters on a smile as she takes his hands. Nate wouldn’t understand. He always disliked the city and never understood her love of it. “Nothing. It’s just new, that’s all.”
From his expression, he doesn’t buy it. He pulls her into a hug, petting her hair. “I know you wanted to stay in the city, but trust me, it’s safer here. All I want is to make sure you’re okay.”
The sudden sting of tears catches her off guard, Nate’s words reminding her of her late father and how much she misses him. He always wanted to protect her, no matter what. She swallows heavily, burying her face in his chest as wet slips down her cheeks. It’s only been a little over a month since Maxwell Bishop passed, and the loss of a man larger than life is still staggering.
A part of her always thought he would live forever.
“Honey?” Nate gently tilts her head up, and he frowns when he sees her tears. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
Julia sniffles, fingers tangling in his shirtfront as she tries to blink away her tears. “I… I j-just miss Daddy.”
He pulls her close, arms a comfortable weight around her shoulders as his hands slide up and down her spine. “I know, baby. I know.” Nate holds her until she calms, petting her hair and rubbing her back as he coos soothingly in her ear.
As nice as it feels, Julia knows she’s acting like a child. Inhaling shakily, she pulls away from him. They didn’t come here for her to cry, and no amount of tears will change anything. This is the path she chose, for better or worst.
Nate doesn’t resist as she extracts herself, but he does grab her hand and gives it a small squeeze. Smiling softly, he wipes away the wetness still tracing down her cheeks. “Do you feel up to seeing inside or do you want to wait? The movers won’t be here for a little while.”
Swallowing down the lump lodged in her throat, Julia licks her lips as she studies their new home. The renewed dread creeping up is shoved firmly down. “No. I wanna see.”
“Okay.” Her hand still firmly in his, he unlocks the door and steps inside. Julia follows after.
The house is nice, she has to admit. The kitchen and living room are quite big, and there’s a bar for extra counter space and seating. The two bedrooms are a touch small, but there’s nice storage. She doesn’t hate it, but part of her does wonder if it will ever truly feel like home.
“So,” he grins, crossing his arms as he leans against the bar counter, “think I did well?”
“Yeah.” Julia nods slowly, the overwhelming amount of white all she can focus on. She runs her fingers over the paneling beside the built in bookcase and misses the feel of old brick beneath her touch before chiding herself. Her apartment is gone now, so she best get used to smooth paneling and sleek styling.
“Do you regret it?” Nate asks softly.
Julia’s face whips toward him, startled, to see his expression has shifted to an emotion she can’t quite name. It isn’t sorrow, but his over-bright happiness has vanished. Guilt curdles heavily in her gut at stealing that from him.
“I don’t – What could I possibly regret?”
He gestures around them. “Just… everything. This house. Us. You haven’t seemed happy since our wedding, and I don’t know what to do to fix it.”
A sudden jolt of irritation shoots through her, but she shoves it aside. “You know I’ve had a lot going on, Nate. I just… I’m out of sorts, and I’m not asking you to fix me or anything else. It’s– the house is fine. It’s all fine.”
She doesn’t bother mentioning his impending return to army service. It’s been a point of contention – and budding resentment – since Julia learned of it.
She’s just so tired, and it isn’t like her disapproval will do anything. It’s settled, and nothing can be changed.
He walks over to her, pulling her into a hug that she returns. “What about us? Are we okay? Is there anything I can do?”
“We’re okay,” she murmurs, a tightness gripping her chest. “Just… hold me like this for a little longer.”
“I can do that.” Nate chuckles. “I love you. No matter what.”
“I love you, too.”
I hope it was worth the wait, @sociallyacceptablemadness.
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Made Marcus using Artbreeder. Think it turned out okay!
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Never let them know your next move!
Please, you gotta watch Eddie Williams' audition on Australia's Got Talent 2019 until the end!
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WIP WEDNESDAY / Whenever
I was tagged by the stellar @overboss a while back but have been so slammed (and sick) I hadn’t had much to share. So now that I am feeling better. here are 4 of my currents that are in colouring phase.
ps please for give my quiet, life’s been tough lately but I miss my friends and magical mutuals so so much.
I will tag @coffeecogs @nuclearmu5hroom @tarberrymentats @nukaworldnerd @slothssassin and @nuka-nuke I know you all have been busy!
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"can u multitask" yes actually i am losing my mind and chilling at the same time
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do u ever send smth in a chat thats not even risqué like “i luv salsa” but no one responds so u start overthinking it like…. maybe one of their parents died making salsa…… maybe they were all just talking abt how they hate salsa……. maybe salsa isnt evn real and they have no idea what im talking abt
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men are so annoying, "women belong at home in the kitchen blah blah" and YOU belong in the workshop making me a fuckin table! why arent you forging steel or working metal? go out to the fields jebediah! the wheat needs to be reaped!
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