#el: no. I Will Never Again Sleep Without My Dearest In My Arms

[givehimthemedicine]

ace El continuing to love sleepovers with Max just as much and in exactly the same way as they grow up, while Max wrestles with the fact that El falling asleep on her shoulder feels more kinds of nice than it did at 13.

El being the biggest cuddlebug and not hiding it at all, because why would she, while Max notices herself wanting to stop it when others are looking. like, she loves sleeping with El wrapped in her arms, but for Hopper to walk past an open doorway and see that makes her feel weird now, even though it's the same as what everyone thought was sweet a few years ago. is it creepy of her to feel weird about it?

people, even the party, starting to react differently to El's casual mentions of "sleeping with Max" or something "Max said in bed the other night". they know it must mean the same thing it always has, because they all know El too, but Max sometimes sees them take an extra half second to process.

Max trying to figure how to explain to El that the older they get, the more people might react differently to the idea of them cuddling and sharing a bed. hesitating at the risk of scaring off the innocence of it by telling El this. knowing El will ask concrete things like at what exact age the rules change and why, and that that will open a whole can of worms that Max isn't ready to address even with herself.

#what happens when oblivious ace + pining allo fall in love? no i'm asking #elmax #mine #headcanon #hopper seeing el asleep all over max in a way that if that was mike he would wake him up by stabbing his ass with a pitchfork #but since max is a girl it's... fine. he guesses. el just is how she is and it's nice she has a friend that brings her comfort. he guesses. #btw in my mind jopper takes in Max post quake and so she and el share a bedroom now #hopper: ok max you'll have to bunk with el for a couple nights but we're gonna get you your own bed- #el: no. I Will Never Again Sleep Without My Dearest In My Arms #max: ...😬 #hopper: 🤨 al..right. well that's. a savings

[atombonniebaby]

I suppose this is as good a day as any to share my OCs prologue chapter! I have already done a 'War Never Changes' piece for @falloutober but it's literally the title of the chapter 👀

War Never Changes

Sanctuary Hills October 23, 2077.

Deep red leaves rustled in the crisp autumn air as the sun began to creep up over the hillside, casting a murky haze over the serene show of contemporary suburban living, America's "Homes of the Future." The residents of Sanctuary Hills lived in blissful ignorance as the world held its breath to the ever-present threat of Nuclear Devastation. Amidst the suburban sprawl, the morning sun warmed the cheeks of Nathanial Alasdair Watt, Nate to his nearest and dearest.

Nate leaned over a dusty blue cot, his eyes not quite believing that the soft and squishy bundle snoring away was his son. Months old already, how long would it be before he would be chasing after him around the cul-de-sac? With a lingering glance over Shaun, Nate slipped out of his room and stepped into the hallway, closing the door softly behind him. The house was quiet, and Nate's footsteps echoed in the empty hall, leading him to the kitchen.

"Ah, Master Nate! Good morning, sir!” Codsworth chirped, his eye stalks flitting in greeting. "Your coffee. 173.5 degrees Fahrenheit. Brewed to perfection!"

"Ah'll take yer word for it," Nate yawned, a fond smile spreading across his face as he reached for the steaming mug of coffee.

"Ah, of course, my apologies, Sir. 78.61 degrees Celcius!"

Nate snorted. "I flunked maths, son. Just say it's hot."

Codsworth let out a chuckle. "Ah, I forgot, the young miss is the brains of the operation."

"Aye, that she is. But she'll no be without a proper feedin'. Could you go rouse her for me?" Nate asked.

"Of course, Sir! Right away!" Codsworth trilled, floating away towards El's room.

"Good luck wi' that," Nate muttered, shaking his head. El liked her sleep, that one.

Nate chuckled, running a hand over his head, and frowned at the resistance. Big speech tonight. He could hardly rock up looking a scruffy mess, could he? With a sigh, he set his mug down and stretched out his back on the way to the bathroom.

"Lemme Sleep, Codsworth..."El's voice drifted through her door.

Ah, to be 19 again. Nate shook his head, smirking to himself as he turned to the closed-over bathroom door, a wide smile pulling in his cheeks when Nora's sweet voice filtered through, Shaun's favorite lullaby on her tongue. Nate would never tire of it or how her voice sent shivers down his spine.

"You're up early. How's my little man?" she asked as he stepped through the door. "I'm assuming you've been in there five times already?"

Nora, even under those horrid fluorescent bulbs, looked stunning. He caught her eye in the mirror she was brushing her hair in and gave her a wink. Nate took a few steps toward her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his lips brushing her neck. She hummed and leaned back into his embrace.

"What can I say, doll? Just like his mother, I cannae believe he's mine," Nate murmured, burying his face in her soft, icy-brown hair. "I keep thinkin' somebody's gonna pinch me, and I'll wake up from this dream."

Nora twisted in his arms, her green eyes sparkling. "You're a wonderful father, Nate. You shouldn't doubt yourself!"

"I hope so," Nate said, his ears growing hot. Nora knew him too well, and his bashful side never could stand up to her praise.

"I think Beth would agree with me. I mean, you practically raised that girl!"

Nate ducked his head and pressed a kiss to her nose. "She dotes on you, ye ken? She won't admit it, but she does."

"I like her too. I'm glad she's here. Now, care to explain why you interrupted my morning ritual?" Nora teased.

"I need some pamperin'," he raised his eyebrows. "Cannae hae this 'decorated war hero' looking like common street riff-raff, now can we?"

"Hmm," Nora smirked. "I dunno, that rugged Viking look is growing on me, Nathanial."

"Ooh, using my full name, eh?" he teased. "Am I in trouble, then, Mrs Watt?"

"You're always trouble, Nathanial Watt," Nora giggled.

"Tell the truth, doll. That's the real reason you married me, wasn't it?" Nate smirked. "That and the accent, aye?"

She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove away, returning to the mirror. Nate's grin lingered, his hands sliding to her waist. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head and rested his chin upon it, gazing at her reflection. She met his eyes, a warmth and tenderness reflected at him.

"I love you, lass," he murmured against her hair, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "More than I can say."

Nora didn't speak, only leaned back, melting against him, a familiar gesture that spoke volumes. Nate's arms tightened, and he closed his eyes, wishing they could stay like that forever.

"Go get your trimmer; I'll at least neaten you up a little," Nora said, her voice thick. "Then, I'll see about breakfast."

Nate pressed one last kiss to her head and drew a sharp breath. "Yes, ma'am."

"—war never changes,” Nate sighed, the steamy air heavy with the weight of his speech.

“You're gonna knock 'em dead at the Veteran's Hall tonight, hon,” Nora purred, her fingers massaging the knots from his shoulders.

"Ye think?" Nate relaxed against her touch, letting his eyes flutter shut.

"Absolutely. Now get ready and stop hogging the mirror..."

"Right," Nate snorted. He stepped away and let Nora take his place. "You might want to fix the buttons on your blouse, love."

He couldn't help a small smirk tugging on his lips as she re-buttoned her blouse, not quite meeting his gaze.

"Wipe that smug look off your face, Mr. Watt! You're the reason I never get anything done around here!" Nora teased.

Nate couldn't help bursting out laughing. "Why dae ye think I bought Codsworth?"

"Out!" Nora laughed, pushing him towards the door.

"Love ye too, darlin'." Nate gave her a mock salute and stumbled out of the bathroom.

"Miss Elspeth, breakfast was served thirty minutes ago!" Codsworth's muffled voice met him through the opposing door.

"Codsy! Bugger off!...and 'ave told ye… it's Beth!" came El's equally muffled reply.

"My, my. For such a brilliant young mind, Miss Beth, your language leaves much to be desired."

"Get tae fuck, or I'll turn ye into a toaster!" El spat back, a bit louder this time.

"By God! I don't believe General Atomics programmed me with enough patience for this!" Codsworth sighed.

"I'll handle this." Nate interrupted, opening the door.

"Good luck, that child's got the mouth of a drunkard."

"I'm weeks away from twenty ye daft bucket o' bolts!" El retorted.

Codsworth sighed, bobbing past him a little less chipper than before. Poor bugger.

Nate chuckled and shook his head. Wearing that damn onesie, she was akin to an overgrown toddler in a babygro. El glared at him, her hazel eyes flashing with a fire that reflected his own, her cheeks flushed, auburn hair still a tangled mess, reminding him exactly why he opted for a smooth dome.

"Arse. Up. Now. Or I promise you I'll cancel that comic subscription I already reluctantly pay for."

El's eyes narrowed, a defiant glint remaining, a slight smirk curving her lips. "Ye wouldnae dare."

"Try me," Nate raised a brow and folded his arms. "And to rub it in, I'll replace it with one about all the latest fashion trends, braw big frilly skirts and whatnot..."

"Fine. Ye win." El rolled her eyes, sauntering past him.

"Smart move," Nate smirked.

"Bite me!" El snapped, stomping into the now vacant bathroom.

Nate chuckled, shaking his head, and approached the kitchen, his stomach growling in anticipation.

"Breakfast is served sir," Codsworth set down a plate of eggs and toast.

"Thanks. And if ye need the afternoon off to recharge after the morning ye've had, you take it!" Nate smirked.

"A good show of humor, sir, but with a steady supply of Mr. Handy fuel, I am proud to serve!" Codsworth chirped.

"Attaboy."

"Your thoughts?" Nora's voice drifted over him, snapping his attention back to the present.

Nate blinked, glancing at his wife. She was studying him, her brows knitted. Damn. "I'm worried about her, doll. She won't admit it, but she's been having trouble sleeping again. I cannae remember the last time I saw her without dark circles under her eyes."

"She's just stressed. It's been a big year for her. Why don't you take her away for a few days? It's been a while since you two had time together," Nora suggested. "You could take a little road trip or something?"

"Aye, I'd been considering it, but I can hardly leave you with the wee one, can I?"

"I've got Codsworth to help. And besides, Shaun's not exactly a handful." Nora grinned, nudging him. "Take her. Trust me, she needs it."

Nate chewed his lip, his brows furrowed. Maybe she had a point. El had always loved his impromptu adventures.

"Okay, I'll talk to her about it—"

"Talk to me about what?" El asked, walking into the living room, her frown deepening as she looked between them. "I'm sorry! I know I've been—"

"No, stop right there! " Nate shushed her. "Ye don't go apologizing...I know you've been overloaded lately with all your projects."

El shrugged, dropping onto the couch beside him, her eyes fixed on the TV. "Yeah, I guess. It's just a lot, and I—"

"Deserve a break? Me and Nora reckon you've earned one," Nate grinned, nudging her. "So, how about we take off in a day or two? It's been a while since we've done a drive together, just you and me?"

"Wait, you're serious?" El stared at him, a smile breaking across her face, but her frown returned as she turned to Nora. "You're okay with that?"

"Are you kidding? Some peace and quiet, hell yeah, I'm okay with that," Nora barked a laugh. "And Codsworth's here to help, so I'll be fine."

"I like her, Nate. Can we keep her?" El smirked.

Nate's laughter bubbled, shaking his head. "Aye, she's a keeper, alright."

Nora gave them a fond smile, rising from the couch."Alright, you two, I'm going to help Codsworth tidy up, give you time to plan."

"Thanks, love," Nate's fingers curled hers as she pulled away, before turning his attention back to El.

"So, short-stop, any votes on where ye want tae go?"

"Laurey, Virginia—"

"The Caverns, again, lass?" Nate's eyebrow quirked.

"Come on, it's been months since we went to D.C. We could do a day trip to Laurey and then spend the rest of our time exploring the Capital!"

"Fine, but that damn mole costume is stayin' put!" Nate chuckled.

"She looked adorable in that thing. Never know, maybe she'll catch someone's eye!" Nora's laughter floated over them from the kitchen, and Nate grinned.

El blushed, her hand rubbing against the back of her head sheepishly. "I'll stick to studying, ta—"

"Quite right. I don't think there'd be many nerdy, bookworm Spelunkers out there that could put up with your pish!" He couldn't resist.

El's nose wrinkled, and her eyes narrowed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence—jackass."

Nate snorted and leaned back, his arms draped over the back of the couch, tuning into the TV.

The same usual shite.

A knocking came to the door, and Nora sighed. "It's probably that salesman. He's been trying all morning, insisting he talks to you."

"Oh, great." Nate rolled his eyes and lurched out of the sofa.

An all-smiles fella in a trenchcoat greeted him when he opened the door, stepping forward. "Good morning! Vault-Tec calling!"

"Sup, chief," he deadpanned, leaning against the doorframe.

"You can't begin to know how happy I am to finally speak with you. I've been trying for days. It's a matter of utmost urgency, I assure you," the rep explained.

Nate frowned—something about the guy's tone made him nervous.

"Alright, son, I'm here now."

"So you are, so you are,' the rep chuckled. "I'm here today to tell you that because of your family's service to our country, you have been pre-selected for entrance into the local Vault. Vault 111. I just need to verify some information. That's all! Don't want there to be any hold ups, in the unforeseen event of *ahem*...total atomic annihilation."

"But there's room for my entire family, right?"

"Of course. Of course! Minus your robot, naturally."

"Oi, Codsworth is family!" El retorted, appearing at his side, her eyes narrowed. "He's a wee gem! We can't just leave him!"

Nate's hand fell upon his sister's shoulder, squeezing it. "General Atomics promised Codsworth could survive anything, even a nuclear blast," he reminded her, her sentiment mirrored in his heart. "Go. I've got it from here."

El nodded, a defiant glint remaining in her eyes, but she stepped aside.

Nate glanced at the rep, his unease growing."All right, let's have it."

"Splendid, splendid. Let's get to it. Just need you to fill out this paperwork, and we're all done. Won't take but a moment."

The rep pulled a clipboard out of his briefcase and held it out towards him.

Nate frowned, his jaw tense, glancing down at the stack of papers. He took the clipboard and scanned the pages, his frown deepening.

"What makes me 'S.P.E.C.I.A.L?' That's a bit on the nose, is it no? And this whole damn thing seems a wee bit excessive, no offense, son."

"None taken! It's simply a matter of determining what roles you may be able to undertake in a new life underground!"

"Well, lucky for us, we have a certified vault technician in our fold. My sister just finished her Masters at C.I.T. Did a whole project around Vault safety and maintenance," Nate couldn't help the proud smile creeping into his cheeks.

"Masters? At C.I.T?" the rep's eyebrows shot up. "My, my, that's impressive."

"Aye, she got the brains of the family. I clearly got the looks," Nate joked, handing the clipboard back to the rep. "Think that's everything, chief."

"Wonderful! That's..." he skimmed over the documents, smiling. "Yes, indeed, that is everything... just gonna walk this over to the Vault! Congratulations on being prepared for the future!"

"Aye, thanks..." Nate forced a smile, his jaw still tense. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I have a wee one who needs a bit of a feed."

"Of course, have a great day, sir, ma'am!" The Vault-Tec rep tipped his hat and strolled off, the tension in the man's shoulders not lost on him.

He watched the rep go, his instincts prickling as he stepped back inside."Something aboot that didn't sit right, did it, El?"

"I didn't like it, Nattie. You don't think he's doing this because—"

"Elspeth, don't get him started," Nora interrupted, her voice strained. "It's just a precaution, that's all."

Nate swallowed his throat tight. "Maybe ye're right, doll, but just in case, we should double-check the go bags."

Shaun's wails rang through the house. Cutting through his words, Codsworth followed.

"Master Nate. Shaun has been changed, but he absolutely refuses to calm down. I think he needs some of that "paternal affection" you seem to be so good at."

"I've got 'im." Nate smiled and strode down the hall, his unease lingering. Nora's footfalls followed.

"Right, ye wee gremlin," Nate teased, sweeping a finger over Shaun's cheek. Shaun's cries grew fainter, his teary gaze fixed on Nate.

"Spin the mobile a bit. He loves that," Nora cooed, stepping up beside him.

Nate gave the mobile a gentle spin. Shaun's gaze drifted to the spinning rockets, green eyes wide, and his cries now soft whimpers. Nora brushed Nate's arm with her hand.

"Maybe we should go out later, a walk in the park?"

"And miss the World Series on TV? Not going to happen." Nate smirked. "But tomorrow, I'm all yours! I promise."

"I'll hold you to—"

"Sir? Mum? You should come and see this!" Codsworth's urgent voice drifted over them.

Nate frowned, exchanging a glance with Nora. "Codsworth?"

"I've got Shaun," Nora assured him, scooping the baby up.

Nate hurried out of the nursery, a knot forming in his gut, his blood rushing. "Codsworth? What is it, son?"

"Sir... the news..."

El was perched on the couch, her knuckles white around her backpack, its contents organized on the coffee table. "They actually did it."

"Did what, lass?" Nate frowned, sitting beside her.

“—followed by... yes, followed by flashes. Blinding flashes. Sounds of explosions..." the news anchor caught his attention. "We're... we're trying to get confirmation…But we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations."

"What? What is he saying?" Nora's voice drifted over them. "…Oh no.”

“...We do have... coming in... confirmed reports. I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania…My God.”

The screen crackled, and the signal was lost. Nate's gaze fixed on the 'Please Stand By' screen. His mouth ran dry, a cold sweat prickling across his forehead.

"We have to get to the Vault. Now! Get all that back in the bag. I'll grab the rest." Nate blurted, his heart pounding against his ribs.

"Nattie...I'm scared."

"We're goin' tae be fine, El. We've prepared for this...You two wait for me outside!" Nate instructed, racing into their bedroom.

He yanked open the closet, his hands trembling, hauling out his and Nora's packs, followed by Shaun's. He slung them over his shoulder and hurried through the house for the front door—stopping on the threshold, glancing over his shoulder at Codsworth.

The Mr. Handy's eye stalks flitted over him, and he glided forward. "Goodbye, sir. May I say what an honor it has been to serve you and your family!"

"Ye've done us proud, son...maybe we could—"

"Now, don't you worry about me, sir! You have your family to think about. Go on."

Nate nodded, a lump forming in his throat. "Thank you, Codsworth..."

"He'll be alright, won't he?" El's voice pulled his attention.

He stepped onto the sidewalk and grabbed his sister's hand. "He'll be fine. Now c'mon, we gotta move!"

They raced down the road, Nora ahead of him, Shaun cradled against her chest. Nate swallowed hard, his hand tightening around El's. His mind raced. Vault-Tec. The rep—he knew something was up. That bastard knew this was coming!

"Nattie?" El tugged his arm, slowing.

"We're almost there, lass. Keep moving! Come on, we're nearly there—"

"We're on the list!" Nora's frantic voice greeted them, and Nate frowned as that Vault-Tec rep darted by them.

A soldier blocked their way, checking over a clipboard."Infant... Adult male... Two adult females... OK, go ahead."

Nate's heart pounded. It was real. This was really happening. They climbed the hill and clambered onto the platform, his arms circling Nora and El.

"Almost there, we're gonna be alright. I love you, all of you." Nate murmured, his pulse throbbing in his ears.

"We love you too," Nora whispered, her gaze locked on his.

The sky lit up with blinding white light, and the ground shook beneath their feet. A deafening roar filled the air. Nate's eyes widened as a mushroom cloud grew colossal in the sky. The blast waves thunder towards them, and El buried her face against his chest. He closed his eyes, bracing for impact.

"Send it down now!" a desperate voice shouted.

An orchestra of "Oh gods" and terrorized screams flooded his ears. The platform shuddered beneath them. His arms held tighter.

The blast crossed over them. The screams echoed, his breaths shortening, the pressure around his ribcage suffocating.

He held Nora, his lips pressed to her head, praying she couldn't hear his racing heartbeat.

The light faded, and the shockwave died, his ears still ringing.

The platform shuddered to a halt.

His eyes met Nora's, tears streaming down her face.

They had made it.

"Everyone, please step off the elevator and proceed up the stairs in an orderly fashion," the Vault-Tec security guard that greeted them instructed.

El clung to him as Nate made a move to follow the others, her breaths ragged and short. He glanced at Nora, Shaun sleeping soundly in her arms.

"She'll be okay. We're right behind ye," Nate murmured. "We just need a minute."

Nora nodded, her hand resting on his shoulder. "We won't be far. I'll go find out what's what."

"Be right with ye," Nate murmured, kneeling to meet El's gaze. "Hey, hey, look at me, lass. Look at me. Deep breaths. In and out. Like we practiced."

El's eyes flicked up to his, wide and fearful. She bit her lip, nodding. Her next shaky intake of breath was longer.

"Good, lass. Again. In and out."

She followed his lead, and soon enough, El's breaths steadied as her panic subsided, her grip on his loosening.

"You're a natural," Nate grinned, easing himself up.

El didn't respond and instead stood closer. His arm circled her, guiding them toward the vast cog-shaped doorway that loomed above them. Nate's heart beat faster. This was home now, for better or worse.

"It's impressive, eh? No wonder ye wouldny pipe doon about these Vaults!" Nate quipped.

El glanced at him, a faint smirk pulling in her cheeks. Nate squeezed her shoulder, their footsteps ringing as they climbed the metal stairs.

His eyes found Nora as they crossed the metal walkway. An orderly queue had formed behind her as she was collecting something up ahead.

Nora handed him a sealed bag and another for El. He eyed it, noting the '111' matching the jumpsuits some staff were wearing.

"What, do they no' come in a braw purple or maybe fluorescent green?"

El snorted at that, a wry smile curling her lips, and Nate's heart lifted a little. She was okay.

"Just follow the doctor here. He'll show you where to go," one of the scientists instructed.

"Lead the way, doc."

As Nora chatted with the doctor, El pulled away, her steps a little firmer, her gaze still far away.

Nate was drawn to the sudden bite in the air, a shiver running through him as he followed. People chatted, residents to Vault staff. Everyone seemed as edgy as he felt. They were led to a larger room filled with 'decontamination pods,' he was told as he was led towards one.

His attention pulled back to El, her belongings dropping to her feet. She stepped in front of them as one of the staff members attempted to collect them.

"I'm sorry, miss, but you cannot take your—"

Without a word, El unveiled a lanyard from around her neck and fixed them with a stern eye.

"You're a Vault-Tec intern? Very well, but be assured, vault-tec will not be held accountable if anything were to be damaged or stolen."

El nodded, her jaw set, and Nate couldn't help a smirk. Stubborn wee devil. Nate stripped to his boxers and tugged on his Vault suit, his skin prickling.

"Could ye's no have turned on the heatin'? It's colder than a polar bear's arse in here!" Nate grumbled.

El was already suited in her's when he looked up again, leaning against her pod, shoulders slumped, a blank expression set over her feature—still not back to herself yet.

"Can you hold him?" Nora asked, pulling his thoughts. Shaun curled up against her chest.

"Of course, love," Nate scooped him up, letting Nora get herself situated. He walked over to El, her fingers brushing Shaun's cheek, a weak smile curling her lips.

"Ye gonna be alright in there? I know how you get in tight spaces."

She held up her backpack, patting it fondly. Of course, she was always packed for every occasion.

"Right then, guess we'll see ye soon," Nate tried, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Okay, I can take him," Nora's hand rested on his arm, and Nate reluctantly handed Shaun over and planted a kiss against her cheek.

Nate climbed into his pod, and with a hiss, the lid descended, his breath misting the glass. His eyes locked onto Nora's, her gaze locked on him as her own pod closed, and she bounced Shaun in her arms.

"Just try to relax," the doctor reassured.

Nate nodded, pressing his hand against the glass. "Time for a whole new life."

"Resident secure. Occupant vitals: Normal," a robotic voice filled his ears.

A rush of cold flooded his pod. Nate's pulse spiked, his next breath shuddering.

"Procedure complete. In 5... 4..."

With every beat of the countdown, his vision whitened. Frost intertwined his eyelashes with every blink—everything faded.

Nate blinks away the frost that clings to his eyelashes, stretching his jaw to loosen the remainder of his beard and whiskers. It was a cold that hung as heavy as iron chains. Every breath stung his chest like swallowing broken glass as violent coughs wreck through him.

"...Critical failure in Cryogenic Array. All vault residents must vacate immediately," The computerized voice echoed through the intercom, and a hiss filled his ears.

As the pod door lifts away, Nate's still-thawing limbs do nothing to prevent him from stumbling forward. His knees crack against the slick steel floor, a haze of mist following him. He didn't dare look up, unwilling to face the truth that the nightmare was real. But there was no escaping the memories that assaulted every fiber of his being: Nora's please, Shaun's cries as they tear him from his mother's embrace. Nate's own screams—lost in the deafening Gunshot that silenced Nora and continued to echo as Shaun's heartbreaking wails faded away—the face that mets him and the words that followed:

At least we still have the backup.

"That scar-faced bastard! Why did he have tae—"

"...Critical failure in Cryogenic Array. All vault residents must vacate immediately,"

"Oh, shut up!" Nate yelled as he snapped his head back. "Can ye no see I'm havin' a moment, ye pushy cow!"

Blissful silence filled the chamber once more, and Nate breathed a sigh of relief. As if another entity had taken control of his body, he stood to his full height and ambled forward. His steps were clumsy, and fog engulfed the room as he moved toward Nora's pod. The faint glint of gold caught his eye. Her wedding band shined through the condensation. His fingers trailed over the icy glass.

Nora, his best friend, the woman he pledged his entire life to. Her rosy cheeks were now dusted blue, fear still painted in her expression. Her arms were so painfully absent—Shaun. He's just a baby, and they tore him out of her arms. Nate's knees buckled some, jolting him forward, and he braced himself, breaths coming out in rasps, his lungs constricting, the very walls closing in. His eyes opened over his wedding ring, a matching piece—he'd be dammed if he was leaving her's behind.

"C'mon! C'mon! There has tae be a release!" Nate barked, desperation bleeding into his brogue as he stepped back to take in the pod, reaching for the lever at its side.

His breath held as Nora's pod opened to him. Slowly, reverently, he slipped the ring off her finger, ignoring the spiderwebbing of frosted blood that now decorated her jumpsuit. Together, he joins their bands onto the chain around his neck, keeping them safe with his dog tags, holding them tight in his grasp. The mere sentiment of having them together offers a measure of comfort.

"I'll find who did this, and I'll get Shaun back. I promise."

With a brush of his lips against the cool metal, Nate tucks the chain securely behind his vault suit, and the fog clouding his mind subsides some. All he had to do was get El and get the hell out of this godforsaken ice box.

Shaky hands grip the lever release to El's cryopod, and he is met with an immediate sharp, jolting buzz that has him staggering back.

"Malfunction in Cryo Pod manual release override." A robotic female voice announces over the intercom.

"No-no-no! C'mon! I need tae open this damn thing!" Nate pulls the handle harder. Again, the error noise frays his nerves, not releasing. "Come on!" He presses a palm to the frost-covered glass, feeling the cold sting on his hand. "El!" Tears stream down his cheeks, warm against the cold fog surrounding him. "No. This can't-" His forehead rests against the pod. He closes his eyes tightly and sobs. “Ye cannae do this! I just need tae get El!"

His mind falls back to the terminal those scientist-looking folks were working on when they were after Shaun, how they opened Nora's pod. Nate spins on his heels and sprints forward, almost pummeling into the console as he slides to a halt. Fingers still stiff from his suspended animation, rattle the keys. Nate squints at the screen with a shaky breath, jumping through the entries as quickly as his frozen digits allow.

******** Welcome to ROBCO Industries (TM) Termlink ********

Thank you for choosing Vault-Tec!

>Cryogenic Array: Offline. Premature termination resulting in system failure. Isolated manual and remote overrides detected. Controls disabled.

>Life Support: Offline. Premature termination resulting in system failure. Isolated manual and remote overrides detected. Controls disabled.

Pod Occupant Status

POD C1: Miss Watt

>Occupant status: Deceased. Cause of Death: Asphyxiation due to Life Support failure.

********************************************************************

It takes several moments for him to comprehend the words laid bare.

Every occupant record painted the same picture: Cause of Death: Asphyxiation.

Nate collapses, his knees slamming on the steel, fingers clawing at the frost-covered ground, and a scream rips through him, a blood-curdling wail that echoes out in the empty chamber. Every cell in his body is alight, a sickening, bitter cold fire. His shoulders shake violently, and he balls his fists, pounding them to the floor until his knuckles are raw. He barely feels the biting pain as the fight seeps away, leaving him drained, tears frozen on his cheeks.

Nate doesn't move for a long moment—left alone with his thoughts and the steady Drip. Drip. Drip. of frost melting. His little sister is dead. They're both gone. It would be easy to submit to his grief, crumple over, and lose himself in the pain—but they have his son. He has to find Shaun, even if all he has left is a warped image of a man who ruined his world. A scar-faced bastard whom Nate committed to memory. His fingers curl around the chain of his dog tags, fidgeting the wedding bands between bloodied knuckles, the cold metal grounding him, and as Nate grits his teeth, steeling his heart, and sets his jaw, he stands.

A silent vow plays on his lips: For Shaun. For Nora. And for El. He would rain fire upon whoever took them from him, even if it meant tearing whatever world awaited him apart, one bullet at a time.

He vows it as he looks upon El's face. Russet frost-bitten curls drape across her forehead. A picture so peaceful she may as well be sleeping.

He vows it as his lips graze Nora's cheek before resealing the pod, committing his love's image to memory.

He vows it as his fingers trace Shaun's name, etched in ink within the tan line of his wedding band.

As the Sole Survivor of Vault 111, he has nothing left to lose and everything to fight for.

War Never Changes, and Nate was ready to wage it.

#falloutober2023 #fallout day #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 #fallout #fo4 #A little tie-in to MacCready in this one 👀 #fallout maccready

[m00nycore]

𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙔 𝙎𝙏𝙐𝙋𝙄𝘿 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏 ;; 𝙤𝙣𝙚 .

𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 .

𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙤𝙘 (𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨)

𝙩/𝙬 : 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙩𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙘 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛. 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.

𝙏𝘼𝙂𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏 ;; @dreaming-about-fanfictions @aesthetic-el

Her room became a prison.

Persephone tried in vain not to cry herself to sleep the first night she spent trapped in the manor. No, she told herself, you’re too strong for that.

But she wasn’t. She vomited the very minute Draco left her alone in the room. She had to assist in killing Dumbledore. The Dark Mark painted her forearm. It was too much for her.

Her step-mother had arranged for her favorite house elf, Poppy, to bring her belongings to her new, overly spacious room. It had been quite the fight for her to be able to keep Poppy with her- until Narcissa Malfoy agreed, on the condition that Poppy helped to maintain the house while Persephone was absent.

She sat on the edge of the bed, Poppy organizing her things, while her hairless cat, Aegis, laid curled on her lap.

“Poppy,” she murmured, the elf immediately running towards her.

“Yes, Mistress Persephone?” she wondered, her giant eyes full of love and respect.

“Just Persephone,” she gently reminded the elf; she knew it was hard for her to correct that. “You don’t have to put my things away, dear. I can do it myself… would you sit with me?”

Poppy hopped onto the bed, and Persephone leaned on her. In some ways, Poppy was the mother she never had. In other ways, Poppy was like a best friend, or a little sister.

“Poppy,” Persephone whispered, tears collecting in her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What’s the matter, ma’am?” Poppy wondered, alarm written over her features. “Did Poppy do-?”

“Poppy, you’ve never given me a problem for as long as you have lived,” she pulled the elf into a hug, which she returned. “Poppy, do you promise me to keep a secret? Even from the Malfoy’s?”

“Ms. Persephone has my word!” she exclaimed, full of determination.

Persephone sighed, absentmindedly stroking a sleeping Aegis. “Poppy, I’m getting married now,” she showed her the extravagant ring, making her friend’s eyes widen.

“Congratulations, ma’am!” she exclaimed. “To Mister Malfoy?” she inquired, curiosity and innocence laced in her tone.

“Yes…,” Persephone confirmed. “But I don’t love him. I was forced into this. Honestly, I used to hate him in school… we haven’t talked civilly in… I don’t remember when.”

Poppy frowned. “Why is Ms. Persephone being forced to marry? Poppy doesn’t understand.”

“Apparently, our parents agreed… but, Poppy… here’s when it gets to be a bigger secret… Draco has been tasked by the Dark Lord to kill Dumbledore,” Poppy gasped at her statement. “And I… have to help him. They made me a Death Eater,” she showed her forearm, still red hot and painful. “Poppy, I can’t do it. I don’t want to. But if I don’t…”

Tears pooled in Poppy’s eyes. “They may kill Ms. Persephone!” she wailed. “Poppy doesn’t want Ms. Persephone to die! Poppy loves Ms. Persephone!”

Persephone gathered Poppy in her arms again, shushing her. “Poppy, I love you too… I’m more worried about them hurting you to hurt me,” it was true, it had definitely crossed her mind. Her love for her house elf was apparent, and they could very well use that against her. It wasn’t like she cared about any harm coming to others. Persephone cared about Poppy and herself. Self-preservation might be selfish of her, but she simply didn’t care. She wouldn’t have the Dark Lord kill her.

“Ms. Persephone should never worry about Poppy!”

She smiled sadly at her. Poppy was loyal to a fault, but she was the only being alive she considered family. Her father was a monster, as well as her step-mother.

“Ms. Persephone looks ill,” Poppy said. “Does Ms. Persephone need something to eat?”

“No,” she responded. Truthfully, she hadn’t eaten all day. Nor did she yesterday, when she had received her assignment. The Malfoy’s hadn’t seen her since. She imagined Draco was isolating himself, as well. She wouldn’t blame him.

A knock sounded at her door, and Poppy quickly jumped off the bed, running to finish putting clothes away.

“Poppy, stop, I’ll help,” she told her, in a whisper. “Just stay there, please. I need you,” Poppy nodded. “Come in,” she responded, in a voice that betrayed none of her turmoil.

Narcissa Malfoy entered the room, with all the grace and authority she was raised to aspire to. She was absolutely beautiful, and she seemed kinder than the other women she had encountered in the circle, purely because of her obvious love and devotion to her son.

“Hello, Mrs. Malfoy,” she greeted, wondering why she had come to see her.

She nodded, crossing the room and taking a seat on the plush couch.

“You haven’t been eating,” she stated. “You shouldn’t starve yourself.”

Persephone couldn’t muster a reply. Narcissa continued. “You were unaware of your betrothal to my son,” it was a statement rather than a question. She paused. “You two are just children.”

Persephone heard the sorrow in her voice. She was worried for her son more than anything, she knew, but was Narcissa concerned for her?

“I,” she began, locking eyes with Poppy, who looked anxiously at her. “I’m being rude… thank you, Mrs. Malfoy, for allowing me to stay in your home and for me to bring my dearest Poppy along with me.”

Narcissa spared a glance at Poppy, who bowed to her.

“I supposed you needed some sort of comfort,” she told her. “So you genuinely were never told of your betrothal?”

Persephone locked eyes with her. “I wasn’t, ma’am, no.”

Narcissa looked towards the window. “I was always fond of your mother… and I was distraught to hear about her passing,” she said it as delicately and discreetly as possible, considering the circumstances behind her death. “I watched you grow up. I knew you were clever… you never played with Draco or the other children… you observed. You read books.”

Persephone was at a loss for words. She had no clue where her soon-to-be mother-in-law was going with this.

“I love my son,” she stated. “I love him more than anything. You know, you’re like your mother… in more than just looks. I expected you to be a Ravenclaw,” another pause. “My dear,” Narcissa stood, tears in her eyes, and sat next to her. “I care for my son, and I care for you as his fiancée. Persephone, as a mother, I am not only concerned for him, but for you. You don’t have anyone left… but, however you feel, you have Draco now. Persephone, I beg of you… help him. Protect him.”

Persephone stared down at Aegis, regretting that her hands were always so cold on her hairless skin.

“I will,” she whispered.

Narcissa nodded, and walked to the door. “You’re welcome to leave the room, to walk around the manor or the gardens,” without another word, she left.

Her mother had once told her a story when she was little.

“Do you know why you were named Persephone?”

The five-year-old considered. She wasn’t fond of her name. It sounded silly, and once Draco made fun of her so much that she cried. She liked her middle name, Wren, better.

“I don’t know, mommy. I hate my name,” she pouted.

Her mother laughed, gentle, stroking her daughter’s hair and snuggling her closer in the plush bed.

“There’s an old Greek story about Persephone,” her mother began. The child perked up. “You were named after a goddess.”

“A goddess?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “The story isn’t completely happy, but it teaches an important lesson.

Persephone was a beautiful goddess, the goddess of spring. Her mother’s name was Demeter. Demeter and Persephone loved each other and would spend lots of time playing and dancing through the meadows. Demeter loved her daughter almost as much as I love you,” Persephone giggled, snuggling closer to her mother. She continued. “But, one day, Hades, the god of the Underworld, saw Persephone and fell in love with her beauty… so, he had her kidnapped and brought to the Underworld with him.”

The child gasped in horror, eyes widening.

“Demeter grew very sad. Almost as sad as I would be if I lost you. She searched the earth for her daughter, and the plants and crops stopped growing. Demeter was the goddess of agriculture. Humans grew hungry and starved because she wasn’t helping anything grow.

One day, Hermes, messenger of the gods, saw the misery Demeter felt, and he told Zeus, the king of the gods, to bring her back. Zeus demanded Hades return Persephone, who was pale and sick, but something bad had happened. Persephone ate pomegranate seeds in the Underworld, and if you eat there, you must stay there. Zeus decided that for half of the year, Persephone would stay in the Underworld with Hades, and the other half of the year, she would stay with her mother. So, when Persephone was on earth, it was spring and summer. When she wasn’t, it was fall and winter.”

Persephone looked up at her mother, brow creased with concern. “Mommy, that’s too sad. Why did you name me after something sad? I never want to leave you ever, ever, ever!”

She smiled at her child, with all of the love and adoration in the world. “Oh, my sweet baby… you will never leave me, nor will I leave you. I named you Persephone for a few reasons. One, you reminded me of beauty and springtime as soon as you were born. Your hair and eyes are as dark as mine, but you are vibrant and sunny, even in the cold. But the biggest reason, my love, is because nothing and no one will ever compare to the love I have for you. I love you more than anything in the world.”

Persephone jumped onto her mom, hugging her tight. “I love you more, mommy!”

“I love you more!”

“No, I love you more!”

She dissolved into giggles as her mom began tickling her, once again telling her she loved her more.

Persephone was lost in the memory, walking through the gardens. She wasn’t springtime, no, not anymore. She was only Persephone to her mother, and the people she had to act in front of. No, she was Wren now. Wren was pale and wan, battered and self-serving. Wren was a Slytherin, she lost the kindness she had carried before.

She only cared for what she knew was right, what she knew was worth fighting for.

The Malfoy’s gardens were spectacular, plants and statues well cared for, the scent of fruits in the trees and the perfume of flowers thick in the air. She wandered, in the warm night, dressed in her silk pajama shorts and matching top, trying in vain not to think of the hell she was living in.

She stared at the magnificent fountain with the strange urge to drown in it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a new presence.

Draco walked up to her, in a black suit, an impassive expression drawn on his features.

He stood by her, neither looking at each other or saying a word.

“You aren’t wearing the ring,” Draco was the one to break the silence.

“No, I’m not.”

There was silence again.

She took his hand, which he shook away.

“What are you doing?” he nearly spat, disgust on his features.

She exhaled out of her nose. “Practicing. Didn’t you hear him? Hogwarts needs to see the happy couple.”

“I’m surprised that you’re even going to go through with any of this,” he commented.

She considered, finally looking at him. He was pale in the moonlight. He didn’t look well, either. He looked back, eyes falling to her bare arms, the Dark Mark covered with bandages that Poppy helped her with.

“I’m a selfish person, Draco. I don’t fancy dying. Nor do I fancy helping you to spill blood that doesn’t deserve to be spilled.”

Draco scoffed. “You’re just a blood traitor like your mother,” he sneered. “It’s exactly why I didn’t want this betrothal. Not with the likes of you.”

She glared at him, a hard set to her mouth, and began to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

She whirled around, tears threatening to form in her eyes. “If we’re suddenly so fond of speaking ill of one’s dead parent, I’ll make do with calling your father the biggest prat on the planet- he got what he deserved and I have no qualms hoping that you’ll be next, you twat.”

With that, she resumed her walk back to the manor, until Draco called out.

“Bardick,” he only ever addressed her by her surname. He walked up to her. She had stopped walking but still faced away.

She felt something press into her hand. A green apple.

“Eat. If you starve to death, it’ll ruin the mission.”

He walked by her, quickly, making his own way back to the manor.

#with all of my stupid heart #draco fic #draco x you #draco imagine #draco smut #draco angst #draco x oc #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco #draco malfoy #harry potter smut #harry potter angst #harry potter fic #harry potter

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Where’s the Baby?

So I finally posted a part 2 to Coming Home. I have linked it, if you missed it. Though you probably did as I posted it a while ago.

I might work on more parts to this if you like it or if there’s something you’d like to see.☺️

—————

Stepping through the door to the townhouse brought Azriel a different sense of comfort and happiness than walking through the door of his and Elain’s cottage, despite that though, he still had to pay certain people a lesson in the training room. He had Luka in his arms as they rounded the corner to the sitting room. It was difficult to let his baby go ever since he’d returned home. Feyre and Rhys, were snuggled together on the sofa listening to whatever nonsense Cassian was spouting from where he was perched on the arm of Nesta’s chair while she read, unbothered by her mate’s bullshit. Mor was drinking a glass of wine, no surprise there, on the floor as she annoyed Amren, who was trying to put together yet another puzzle.

Mor squealed when she saw them in the doorway, even though Azriel knew she had scented them the minute they got within a few feet of the house, and was instantly making a grabby motion for Luka. He reluctantly handed him over after placing a quick kiss to the boy’s cheek, listening to his delighted giggles. Turning to his High Lord and Lady he gave a small nod and moved to stand behind them.

Cassian was clearly ecstatic to have him home, grinning from ear to ear as he asked “Care for a drink, dear brother. Rhysie just got a new batch in and I can vouch that it tastes wonderful.”

Nesta, without taking her eyes off of her book, reached over to pat Cass’ thigh. “That my love, is because you’ve drunk a whole bottle every night since he bought it. If you do so again tonight, you’ll be sleeping outside.”

His brother quickly shut his mouth, pouting as he stared wistfully at his nearly empty glass of liquor. Azriel couldn’t help the roll of his eyes.

“I’ll do a taster in a moment Cass, but first, there’s just one thing I need to do.” As soon as the last word left his mouth he banged the High Lord and Lady’s head together.

“Azriel!” his wife shouted. She’d gone slightly red in the cheeks and was looking at him sternly. He would deal with that scolding later, she was beautiful when she was angry and could always be soothed by his clever hands and tongue, before she was begging for something bigger.

Cassian was howling with laughter and nearly fell off of the chair, Mor had an astonished look on her face, Amren was smirking and Nesta had finally put down her book. It was difficult for Nes to be interested in much, so he felt quite proud in grabbing her attention. Meanwhile there were two sets of eyes glaring up at him.

Rhys was the first to recover, healing Feyre before himself as he said, “What the fuck was that for Az?”

“That was for sending me away on a ridiculously long mission and making me miss my son’s first steps.” His High Lord turned sheepish and guilty then, as if he had known already what he had caused and had most likely been punishing himself since. “As for you,” he pointed an accusing finger at Feyre “you know exactly what you did.” He said it with a blush, trying to push away the thoughts of how sinful Elain had looked in those leggings.

The High Lady of the Night Court just gave him a coy smile, and turned back to watch as her nephew pulled on Auntie Mor’s hair.

“You both owe me a few hours in the training room as payment, no holds barred.” He wouldn’t ever use even half of his full power against his family, but he felt some kind of sick satisfaction to watch as they gulped. He turned away from them then and began walking back over to his wife, but just before he got to her side, there was a quiet beat of tiny wings and Azriel turned in time to see his son disappear into shadows.

It took a few seconds to register what had happened but then Elain let out a small sob, calling out to Luka, and kicking everyone into action. Feyre began winnowing through each room of the townhouse, Rhys reached out with a tendril of power searching for any little thing and Az had stepped into his own shadows to search, while the rest searched all of the little nooks and crannies. When he stepped back out, everyone was back in the same room and he pulled Elain into his chest as Mor gravely shook her head at him.

“His shadows must be different to mine, I can’t see him anywhere.” Elain sobbed harder at that and so he just squeezed her tighter.

Rhys held a pained look on his face as the girls gathered their coats, planning on checking the gardens. “I can scent him but there’s no specific place, and I can hear muddled thoughts that don’t make any sense at all. It’s almost like he’s masking himself.”

Nesta spoke to her sister now, but he wasn’t totally sure his wife was paying any attention. “You’ve taken him to the gardens since he was born El, he might have gone somewhere he knew best and felt most comfortable. We’ll find him.”

Just before anyone could make it even three steps to the door, there was snap in the air and there were vague shadows gathering before Cassian was yelling out in pain. They all turned to the commander abruptly, stunned silently at what they saw. Luka was now sat atop his brother’s shoulders, pulling on fistfuls of long dark locks as he squealed “go’choo ass!” followed by a fit of giggles as Cassian held onto his chubby little legs. Elain let out a relieved breath, much like the rest of them, and proceed to translate baby talk at their confused faces.

“He says ‘got you, Cass!’ I think someone has been in the room too much while you boys have been discussing sneak attacks and strategy.”

Cassian finally mastered his astonishment at being bested by a child and pulled his nephew down from his shoulders and held the boy up in front of him. “Got me huh? That was quite a clever trick, little one, so much like your daddy.” And then he threw him up in the air, before taking him off to the kitchen, finding him his favourite soft biscuits no doubt. Cassian missed the awed look Nesta gave him as he left.

Azriel turned to Elain as the rest soon followed the sound of blabbering, baby and soldier alike, and cupped her face in his palms.

“Thank you my love, for blessing me with such a mischievous little boy. There’s never a dull moment with you, dearest.”

If he’d been drinking during her next words, he surely would have choked.

“I want another one.” She said it as if she’d been thinking on it for a while, and with a hint of nervousness, like she was scared he would say no.

“Are you sure? Luka is only just nearing a year old Ellie.”

“But girls are much easier. A sister may calm him down, and even give him a sense of responsibility as he grows older.” His wife smirked slyly at him before continuing, “Besides Feyre said they’d watch him tonight, to give us some alone time since you were gone so long.”

He leaned in and nipped at the point of her ear and whispered, “Naughty little temptress.”

He felt the shivers wrack through her body as he grabbed her hips and winnowed them home faster than he ever thought he had.

—————

Want more parts of there’s something you wan to see? Just let me know and I’ll do my best to get them out:))

ags: @starlitfangirl @starsauroras @drunken-starz @myfriendscallmeraba  @thesirenwashere @empress-sei @elrielllll  @stars-falling @cirieael @verifiefangirl  @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @fancyclodpaintercookie @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @silver-flames @queen-of-glass @bamchickawowow @empress-ofbloodshed @sleeping-and-books @b00kworm @kvi-arts @rhysandhlcor @tswaney17 @awkward-avocado-s @judexcardanxgreenbriar @junkiejosten10 @mu-si-ca-l @agem10 @harmonyindark245 @slightly-sane-fangirl @tanaquilpriscilla  @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares

#elain x azriel #elain archeron #azriel #original character #baby luka #i love him #uncle cass gives me feels #cassian #nesta archeron #morrigan #amren #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fic #my fic #haz writes #fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin

[argylemikewheeler]

That was so good!! Prompt idea: El finds out about Will's feelings for Mike

|| making it a sequel (now with a third part) just for you! not as sad and more situational family humor ||

The word was new to El. She had heard it before once, coming out of a not-so-friendly mouth at lunch. The next time Lucas was whispering to Max, looking concerned and at a loss. It was a new look for Lucas, which made the new word all the more troubling.

Gay.

The word wasn’t meant for her ears, she knew that, but she files the word away and waits until she was safe at home to explore it. She was sitting on the edge of the tub at Will brushes his teeth. She doesn’t feel any darkness, no itching. She can ask.

“Will, what’s gay.” She folds her legs up and waits for a response. Will chokes out a response. Literally.

“What?” He coughing into the sink basin, clutching the edges. It’s familiar to El. She’s seen it in some distant dark memory. But this time he was only coughing up foamed toothpaste. “What did you say?”

“A gay? Doing gay? H-how do you use it?” She apologies for her mistake. “Teach me.”

“It’s an adjective. Someone is gay.” Will clarifies, wiping his mouth.

“Like little and bad.” She recounted others she’d learned, trying to match it in with her known vocabulary.

“Uh, sure.” Will didn’t agree. His body language tightens, turning toward the sink but lowering his eyes away from the mirror.

“What did I say wrong?” She demands, snapping her fingers. “I want to be right.”

“You are.” Will sighs. “That’s the worst part.”

The conversation ends without El’s consent but with all of her confusion. She calls after her brother, trying to meet him in his room, but the door is shut behind him. Joyce– Mom, El tries to remember– comes around and asks her if she needs anything before bed. She’s always smiling, and now isn’t any different. It’s a comfort El still isn’t used to.

“I’m confused.” She says to herself, but partly to Joyce. “Describe gay.”

“Y-You mean like ‘happy’?” She says with a laugh. “Like, someone feels gay?” The word was easy on her lips, unlike Lucas’.

“Does it also mean ‘bad’?” She asks, letting Joyce walk her to her room.

“Not in this house it doesn’t.” Joyce becomes serious for a moment, shaking her head. She tucks a piece of El’s hair behind her ear and smiles again. “Never in this house.”

Maybe in Lucas’ house it meant bad things. El had never heard of a word that changed like that before. If it changed by house, who else had a different definition? How was she meant to keep track? El goes to sleep certain that she’d get to the bottom of it the next day with Mike.

She practically corners him in the kitchen as he’s getting her water.

“Mike.” She starts with his name, locking him into her point of discussion. He stills the pitcher he’s pouring and looks at her with lifted eyebrows. “Describe gay. Who is gay? Do we know one?”

He rushes to put the pitcher down and nearly covers her mouth. “Not so loud!”

“Is it bad in your house too?” She whispers, ducking to keep their voices between them.

“Just when my parents are home.” Mike mutters. “It’s not a bad word though, El. I promise.”

“But what kind of word means little, happy, and bad?” She rubs her forehead and tries to soothe her rising temper with the inconsistencies of English.

“It doesn’t mean any of those.” Mike says at a normal volume. He finishes pouring her water and hands it to her with both hands. “It just means boys who have boyfriends and girls who have girlfriends.”

“That’s… That’s not one word. How is that an adjective?”

“Well, it’s like, you’re describing how that person is. How they love, I guess. I’m tall and straight. Will’s short and gay.” He is calm. The word doesn’t worry him the way it did Lucas.

“Will’s gay?”

“Well, I think he is.” Mike shrugs. “I mean, he doesn’t really seem into girls right now. And that’s fine too. It’s not really a big deal… to us at least. Other people aren’t very nice about it. Like my parents, so keep your voice down. Please.” She takes a sip of water and is glad he explained his anger. She understands, if only a little bit better.

“We still love Will, right?”

“Of course we do.” Mike says firmly, nodding. “Will’s always been this way– I’m pretty sure. So like, the Will I grew up with is this Will. But now we know what it’s called.”

El nods and lowers her glass. She lets Mike walk her back to the basement, their voices still lowered as they discuss the finer points of El’s new vocab word. She learns quickly that a house can hate a word, but the people inside can think differently. She hopes her house isn’t that way; Mom had said that it had meant happy only. It was good. Will was good.

She carries that with her all the way home. She wears it to the dining table, to her homework session with Hopper, and to Will’s room as she sits on his floor. He’s standing and picking out clothes for the next day. It’s her favorite part of the night.

“Can I tell you something?” She asks.

“Sure, what’s up?” Will hangs a shirt on his closet door and thumbs through his hanging pants.

“I heard you were gay.” El is merely stating the combination of words she heard– Will and gay– but she misses the greater implication. She still isn’t completely sure what the point of the word is. It isn’t like red or soft– you can’t tell Will is anything. “Are you?”

“W-Where did you– Wait, who said that? Was it Troy? Because he doesn’t– he’s not saying it to be a very nice– Who told you? Who told you!” Will is increasingly frantic, shaking his head and stepping away from the closet to his bed. He doesn’t sit down. He holds it for balance.

“Lucas said it first, at lunch. But then I asked you. And then–”

“I told Lucas to keep his mouth shut!” Will sighs, covering his face. “I tell him about the Snow Ball and he just thinks I’m– God! I’m not going to say anything to him!” There isn’t darkness, but there’s a strange fear that opens up around Will. El feels it in the tips of her fingers.

“Tell who?” El prods. “Michael?” Good thing they’d already discussed it.

“N-No.” Will’s lies sound like jokes. They always make El want to laugh.

“Mike told me you’re short and gay.” She relays the information evenly, not sure what the consequences would be.

“S-Short and what?” Will says leaning his head forward as if to hear better. “He didn’t say that did he?” The fear is vast and surrounds Will’s words. The pain of mentioning Mike has changed into the chill of frostbite in her hands.

“Why does Mike scare you?” She lifts her hands, hoping the shivering is evident. “He says it’s a good word in his house.”

“I’m not scared of Mike.” Will says. El doesn’t want to laugh, but she can’t figure out how it isn’t a lie. “That’s not what it is.”

“Then what is it?” El reaches forward to take Will’s hand, trying to see if his fingers were just as cold. His whole hand was trembling. “You can tell me? Mike is my friend. That means we tell each other everything. I know Mike. He’s not scary.”

“Oh God please don’t tell him about this.” Will winces and pulls himself away from El. He keeps his darkness to himself, arms coiling around and keeping it between his ribs. “God, please don’t. He can think I’m gay all he wants but just don’t confirm it… please, El.”

“Are you gay or no?” El asks. “Little, happy, and gay?” She omits one of the definitions given to her; it’s not correct in their home.

“Y-Yeah. I am.” Will laughs and lets his arms hang by his sides. “But, Mike can’t know. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“Mike says that it isn’t bad. He says it’s okay!”

“Yeah but that’s because he doesn’t think it involves him! Everyone thinks it’s fine until it’s right next to you or sharing lunch with you or sleeping in your house or sharing your bed or your clothes or your whole damn childhood!” Will snaps suddenly. El swears she feel her own heart break. Her hands just go numb.

She’s cold because Will is too. Not physically, but he’s been hiding from the warmth inside their closest friend. He’s been hiding and refusing to be cast into the light. He’s been hiding himself from Mike.

“I.. I don’t know how to use the word.” She confesses. “You’re gay with… for… to… about Mike.” All of them sound wrong.

“I like Mike.” Will confesses. “I’m gay and I like Mike.”

“Oh.”

“And I know that’s your friend– sorry, your boyfriend, but I’m not asking you to even acknowledge that I feel anything. You can ignore it and ignore me and act like I’m just like everyone else. In fact, yes! Do that! Just act like I’m normal. For once, you can have a normal friend!” Will pleas, crouching and grabbing El’s hands. He’s frantically groveling for his own privacy again, as if he’d even slid out of the dark.

“You’re different, we decided that. And we like different. Different is a good word in this house too!” She holds her arms out around her. “It doesn’t have to be dark.”

Will kneels in front of her, still holding her hands. They’d never truly discussed the darkness inside Will, or the one inside her, but they knew it well without words.

Then again… this? This was something El couldn’t wrap her numb fingers around, couldn’t reason the difference Will was insisting existing between them. It somehow made the darkness inside him deeper, going farther than her reach. Maybe she couldn’t feel it anymore because he’d simply sunken down to her feet.

She really hoped that gay didn’t mean the pain she used to feel and presently saw crossing Will’s face. Was that how she supposed to recognize it in Will, how she was supposed to see that Will was gay? The haggard look of exhaustion on long summer days with the Party that would form out of nowhere? The sniffling she heard as she across the hall but never acknowledged in the light of day? The flocking to light that came from a loving source– Mike– who was also El’s closest and dearest friend? It seemed complicated and troubling. But Will handled it so well, no one would ever know.

El smiled and hugged her brother.

She found a new definition: strong.

#will byers is gay #stranger things writing #prompts #will angst #to link #will and eleven siblings #i don't like writing in present tense believe it or not so i've been trying to edit this for hours and it all sounds wrong #so forgive me if it hurts your brain

[queen-scribbles]

Saoirse

@pillarspromptsweekly fill #59: Remember. I’m going with the way Saoirse Ronan pronounces Saoirse(SEER-shuh), since she’s where I got the idea from, but if you say it differently in your head that’s cool, too. :)

If Elihu fell behind one more time, she was going to leave him, Galawain as her witness. Saoirse huffed in frustration, the agitated breath pushing cinnamon brown curls out of her eyes. She wanted to show someone the estramorwn ruin, and who better than him, right?

Had she realized what his travel pace was going to be, she’d have brought someone faster. Like Jago’s pet turtle.

“El!” Saoirse hollered, only feeling slightly bad when he flinched, a vibrant butterfly flitting away from one of the flowers growing near his laft ear. She kicked the dirt to hide her embarrassment and raked her hair back again. “Hurry up or it’ll be too dark to see anything by the time we get there!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Elihu replied, green of his eyes deepening in amusement as he caught up to her. “Gods, I know you’re excited, Saoirse, but you know I stop for butterflies.” He shot her a teasing grin. “You’ve only had four decades to account for extra time when we travel together.”

Saoirse rolled her eyes and twitched her wrist so the bracelets encroaching on her hand slid back down her arm. “And you know you don’t have to stop every time.” It was wasted breath and she knew it; the only thing in this life more sure than her dragging Elihu on adventures was him pausing to indulge the winged insects who mistook his head or arms for flora and fauna. “And for the record, I did account extra time, just not this much.”

“Saoirse, my darling, my dearest, my brave adventurer,” Elihu chuckled. “It’s a ruin, love, it’s not going anywhere.”

“But the daylight is,” she said emphatically, jerking her head toward the sky.  “Hence my worry about it getting dark. And we don’t know what might be in there, so I don’t want to burn through all my spells calling down sunbeams so I can see.”

“Maybe there will be torches,” he said helpfully as they crested a ridge, reaching for her hand. Saoirse gave it to him without a second thought. Forty years they’d been doing near everything together, the barky texture of his skin had long since ceased to phase her.

“And maybe next time the butterflies can just try to keep up,” she teased.

It wasn’t too much longer before their goal came into view: a wide river, strewn with rubble, and on the far side, the crumbling moss-grown walls of an estramorwn castle. The gates lay fallen in, and there were holes in the walls at several points, but it was still impressive enough to earn a whistle from Elihu.

“By the Builders,” he murmured. “You’d think they would guard a treasure like this with their lives...” 

Saoirse scoffed. “You know the estramorwn don’t respect their past like we do. Or, at least, like we used to.”

“Saoirse, not this again.” He squeezed her hand and tugged her into motion toward the ruins.

She bit her lip and followed him. He was right, and besides, there was no one around she could try to persuade. He agreed with her, if less passionately. “If nomads we must be, should we not at least try to stay closer to our roots?” She’d heard the history of places of places like Twin Elms and Rock of the Tears, and burned with mostly-quiet fury that the estramorwn had spread enough to edge the shrinking tribes of Eir Glanfath from their sacred sites.

But that was a concern to voice before Father headed to the next Gathering. Right now she was standing outside a ruin that teemed with history; the last thing she wanted was to be distracted.

They made it across the river with relative ease, clambering from piece to piece of the crumbled bridge. Saoirse paused by the wall, scraping off moss and ivy to examine the stone underneath.

“El, look!” She pointed at the stone only a foot or so above their heads. “The kith who built it put their names.”

He joined her and brushed his hand over the timeworn carving, the millennia-old words barely legible. “They did fine work; it’s good they achieved some form of immortality.”

“Mmhm.” Her attention was already wandering through the tumbled gates, toward the collection of buildings protected within. She heard Elihu chuckle as he followed her through the overgrown arch.

“Where do you want to start?” he asked as the two of them stepped in to survey the layout of the castle.

“The big one, of course,” Saoirse smiled. She skirted the wreckage of an outdoor forum, its wooden seats long ago dry-rotted, and started hauling open the door of the main keep.

Elihu caught up in just a couple long legged strides and helped her pull open the heavy door. “Anything particular you’re expecting to find?”

“Rocks, moss, maybe a few artifacts that haven’t completely turned to dust yet?” she shrugged. “It’s been a few hundred years at least since anyone was in here. Who knows what shape they left it in.”

The main hall was fairly bare as they strolled up its length. Whoever had emptied it--looters or the former occupants--had done a good job. Still there was something about the room that called to her, as if she could feel the history of it swirling just below the surface. Close enough to reach out and touch, pulsing with familiar warmth.

Slightly offput by the familiarity of this room, but still curious, Saoirse detoured through one of the doors that opened off it. She found herself in a library, the shelves mostly empty. The few books that remained looked brittle, and one fell apart when she touched it. This room, too, felt familiar. Safe. Her chest tightened with emotions she could neither name nor explain. Taking slow breaths to calm herself, far more quietly than her norm, Saoirse ventured further into the library. She thought, ever so briefly, she glimpsed a dark-haired elven man reading at one of the tables. But that was ridiculous. This place had clearly been abandoned for at least a couple hundred years--

“The whole keep is falling apart, but this room does seem to have been particularly neglected.”

She flinched. “What?”

“What do you mean, what?” Elihu frowned. “I didn’t say anything.” He shot her a concerned look. “Hearing ghosts?”

“Very funny,” Saoirse sighed, tugging at one of her longer curls as she kept walking. It was a fairly basic library, if well crafted. Only the outside wall was anything special--half its width was covered by a cracking mosaic of adra pillars.

She froze at the sight of it. She remembered that mosaic--”Gareth, it turned out wonderfully!”--but how could she? The tightness in her chest morphed into a tingle, like a sleeping limb regaining circulation. She was vaguely aware of the quick scuff of Elihu’s feet as he came to an abrupt halt behind her, the soft rush of his breath on the back of her neck as he chuckled.

“Seeing another ghost?” he teased, but the voice was only half his. The other half was deeper, but still warm, rich. Kind.

She started and heard the tumble of books hitting the floor. The deep, warm voice--Kana, something in her prompted--was apologizing, but she was distracted by the books. Where had they come from? Where they there before? Either way, no sense leaving a mess. “It’s alright,” she replied, though the voice was too soft, too high. “And in a sense, yes? I was picturing what this place used to look like. What I want to make it look like again.” She cocked her head, smiling sheepishly. “Not that books have souls.”

“Well, you know what they say about good stories coming alive,” he said teasingly, setting the rescued books back on the table, and she laughed again.

“I’m tired of the library being so shabby, Kana,” she admitted. “I’m going to have the workmen fix it up next.”

The... sensation faded abruptly as an elbow dug hard into her back. Saoirse rocked forward, arms jolting out to keep her balance.

“You alright? What was that?” Elihu demanded, brow wrinkled in concern.

“...Nothing,” she tried, rubbing her forehead.

“Nothing? Saoirse, you were still as a rock.” The concerned furrow deepened.  “You were just... staring at the wall. That doesn’t seem like nothing to me.” He circled in front of her and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Did you see something?”

Saoirse forced a smile and focused on staring at the mossy patches above his eyebrows rather than meet his gaze. “Just my imagination runnin’ a little wild. Come on, I don’t think there’s anything to find here.” She briefly pressed his hand closer to her cheek before turning on one heel and marching out of the library without a backward glance. The tight, agitated tingle in her chest didn’t go away when they returned to the main hall. Indeed, it almost seemed to grow stronger, drawing her... somewhere.

The dais. She paced with confidence  toward the head of the room, eyes locked on the throne that waited upon the three-step rise. It was overgrown with lichen and ivy, but some hints of the ornate carving still peeked through. That was it, the source of the tug in her chest. The lichen came off far more easily than Saoirse expected, and her hand brushed the cool marble underneath--

“My lady, it’s so good to see you again!”

Saoirse jerked her hand back as if the stone had burned her at the soft yet delighted greeting. “Where-?”

Behind her, Elihu had tensed as well, both of them searching the chamber for whoever had spoken.

“I apologize,” the voice came again. It was close, Saoirse noted. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, it’s just been so long...”

“Startle’s a better word than frighten,” Saoirse said, still scanning for the woman speaking. “And I’m no one’s lady-- ‘cept his, I guess” --she nodded jerkily toward Elihu-- “and I don’t know who you are, but I’m pretty damned sure we’ve never met.” She wasn’t, not after the library.

There was a soft laugh that sounded as if it came from the throne. “Not in this life, perhaps. But your soul is a beacon, my lady, I could not miss it if I wished to.”

Saoirse looked back at Elihu. He shrugged, raising his hands in a gesture of ignorance even as his eyes flared bright with curiosity that seemed for once the match of her own. “Is that right? I’d think being... acquainted with a castle would be a memory that managed to poke through.”

“Souls are funny things sometimes.” The voice, which sounded amused, was definitely coming from the marble throne. 

Saoirse knelt on the seat and swiped at the lichen and ivy until it was mostly cleared away. The tingle in her chest grew stronger as she sat back with lichen under her nails to survey her handiwork. The throne was carved to resemble a woman, her arms the arms of the throne, her head and shoulders rising behind whoever occupied it. 

The throne gave a gentle, almost motherly, chuckle. “Ah, an elf this time.”

Saoirse frowned, playing with one of her bracelets as she parroted, “This time?”

Before the throne--statue?--woman could reply, the tingle in her chest erupted like flames catching tinder. Right before her eyes, the ivy and other growths vanished, though the hall still lay in ruins, covered in dust but bathed in a pale blue light.

“Another Watcher in Caed Nua. Glowing very brightly indeed to these eyes. A strange happenstance.”

“Who are you?” The question and the voice were both hers but someone else’s, as was the underlying curiosity. The same soft voice from the library, in fact. When she flinched in surprise at that, it shifted her arm into her peripheral vision. Only, it wasn’t her arm; lightly tanned and perpetually sporting bruises and scrapes from time spent outside. It was blue, marked by swirling silver designs, the wrist scarred under a trio of woven bracelets much like the ones Saoirse herself wore. She remembered the answer to her question even as a hand rested on her shoulder.

“Saoirse. Saoirse.” Elihu shook her gently. “Are you alright.”

She blinked and the ivy was back, curling around everything. Keeping her gaze on the marble throne, Saoirse raised one hand to cover the one Elihu had rested on her shoulder. She gave it a reassuring squeeze as she spoke to the statue.  “Steward.”

“You remember.” The Steward’s tone was wistful. “I’m unsure whether to be grateful or apologize that our connection had such consequences for you.”

Saoirse shook her head. “I... don’t think it was you,” she said slowly. Her mind was reeling from a literal lifetime’s worth of new memories, but she was pretty confident in that. “I think it’s just... being here.” She glanced around the hall, chest aching with remembered care. “The life that knew you... She bonded strongly to this place.” It wasn’t a question.

 “Moreso than any of the occupants before or since,” the Steward confirmed fondly.

“This was her home, in a way few ever find it,” Saoirse murmured, the ache flaring into pride at her home. But it wasn’t. It had been this past life’s, the Watcher. Lucky woman.

“Yes,” the Steward said, her voice warm with memory. “Lady Emiri fought very hard for this place. She even rebuilt it, twice. She was quite happy here, and I hoped...” She hesitated. “It might be foolish, but I did hope that bond would draw her--you--back. So I could see what you made of yourself in whichever life returned here. I take it from your attire you’re Glanfathan now?”

Saoirse nodded. “Trained as a druid, yes. My father is anamfath of the Twice- Split Arrow” --she squeezed Elihu’s hand again-- “Welcomers of outcasts.”

“A fine life.” The Steward’s voice brimmed with motherly pride. “It does me good to see you so happy, my lady.”

“Just Saoirse,” she corrected with  a chuckle. “Like I said, I’m no one’s lady.”

“If that is your wish, I will respect it, but you will always be my lady, Saoirse.”

“I’ve always wanted the loyalty of a ruined, sentient castle,” Saoirse joked. “I imagine there’s lots of exploring to be done here?”

“Oh, yes. A few parts have fallen into dangerous disrepair, however, so I would advise caution.”

“And the full light of day,” Elihu murmured in her ear. “If we’re not back soon, the rìow will start worrying.”

He was right and she knew it. The light was fading fast and this part of the Dyrwood teemed with predators at night. “Well, then I’ll have plenty of excuse to come visit, won’t I?” she said, both to him and the Steward.

“Oh, my-- Saoirse. I would appreciate that very much.” The Steward sounded so happy, Saoirse half expected her to start beaming, despite being made of marble.

“Alright, then. I have to train new druids tomorrow, but the day after, I’ll be back.”

“We’ll be back,” Elihu corrected. His hand slid from her shoulder down her arm, fingers linking with her own. “Exploring’s not a thing to undertake solo, Saoirse. And this place is fascinating. I’ll come with you.”

She flashed him a giddy grin before turning back to the Steward. “So you’ll see both of us the day after tomorrow, then.”

“I will look forward to it,” the Steward replied. The marble expression didn’t change, but her voice carried a smile.

After a beat more hesitation, bouncing slightly in excitement, Saoirse tugged Elihu’s hand and the two of them headed out the way they’d come. Elihu ducked as they passed through the doorway, narrowly missing a trail of ivy trying to snag on his horns.

Outside was darker than expected when they exited the hall, and Saoirse shifted by reflex into her cat form, removing any concern about seeing. She could only hold it long enough to get them back to the forest, but that was better than picking  their way across the rubble-strewn river blind.

“Well, that was..  an adventure,” Elihu said dryly, clasping her hand once more as they strolled briskly through the woods back towards camp. “Not every day you meet a talking statue.”

“Yeah,” Saoirse mumbled. She could feel Emiri’s sense pressing close to the surface, near-bubbling with excitement over something; though whether a memory or something else she couldn’t tell. The feeling of overwhelming, giddy joy only increased when Elihu squeezed her hand. Apparently her past Lady Watcher life had some strong, fond emotions tied to walking through this part of Dyrwood.

“It’s not where you are, it’s who you’re with, right?” that soft voice from inside the keep laughed in her mind.

“I would have to agree with you,” the deep, kind one Emiri remembered as Kana replied, his tone light and happy. “Good company can vastly improve all manner of circumstances, and yours is among the very best, Emiri.”

Saoirse felt the thrill Emiri was quick to tamp down as she shyly mumbled yours as well and bit back a smile. Oh, that’s cute. She was sweet on him. Wonder if she ever did anything about it. And why I’m seeing that now... She glanced at her hand, still clasped in Elihu’s.

“It’s not where you are, it’s who you’re with.”

She grinned as glimmering suspicion turned to near-surety. Well, even if she didn’t, I sure did. Impulsively, she pulled Elihu closer and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for having my back, El.”

He chuckled, and she could feel his bemused gaze as he squeezed her hand again. “Always,” he promised.

Warm as the sentiment had made her in the past, this time Saoirse couldn’t help but smirk. Darling, you have no idea.

--------------------------------------------

Time for notes!

I was all set to write this other, bittersweet idea I’ve been holding onto for ages that would have ripped my heart out in the best way, when randomly, out of nowhere, I remembered the chorus to Katy Perry’s “The One That Got Away” (”In another life/I would be your girl/we’d keep all our promises/be us against the world”) and my brain went HEY DO THAT INSTEAD. 

Obviously someone somewhere found a way to fix the, uh, Events of Deadfire’s ending. Not necessarily Emiri, just someone.

Saoirse and Elihu are both elves(Elihu is a nature godlike) and are childhood sweethearts

Yes, Elihu absolutely has Kana’s soul like Saoirse has Emiri’s. This is not necessarily Soul Twin-ness and is more I wanted to do something nice for my girl after the frankly ridiculous amount of crap she goes through as Emiri

So, yes, I gave her the guy she liked in a later life where both of them will live to be 250. Ish. They’ll be gloriously happy together and adopt kids and fluff will abound and no one can stop me. NO ONE.

Saoirse’s Awakened soul falls somewhere between what the Watcher gets with the Inquisitor and Aloth gets with Iselmyr(Emiri’s memories are more frequent, Saoirse gets a few little cipher powers on top of her druidic abilities, but Emiri’s voice isn’t ever gonna come spouting out Saoirse’s mouth)

I sort of played with the future of the world, since this is a good 500-ish years down the road, but I really wanted the Current Life to be Glanfathan, bc I think their culture is neat

All of the things Saoirse “remembers” in Caed Nua are from my fics or the game itself. There’s one from Secrets and two from Stories, then her conversation with the Steward is game dialogue. That last one(”It’s not where you are...”) isn’t, but now I wanna make it be

I think that’s everything?

Oh, and I absolutely did NOT make Saoirse in Deadfire to see how Oracle (Druid/Cipher) plays out functionally. Nope. Totally didn’t.

Didn’t use Emiri’s worldstate to do it, either.

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #emiri #(sort of) #pillars of eternity #now i wanna write more about saoirse and how her awakeing affects her life

[vowel-in-thug]

Black Sails Noir

for my dearest, darling, delightful @jadedbirch on her beautiful birthday!! el you are such a treasure to me and have been since i’ve known you, and i deeply appreciate you, even though that one time you showed me pictures of cute bunnies after i ate rabbit schnitzel, because you’re also cruel and unusual

and PHEW am i glad you liked the noir AU I wrote a couple days ago (which should be read before this because otherwise it makes no sense) because otherwise this would be awkward! i was gonna write you something else, but that was for the prompt you requested ages (and AGES) ago and that felt like a cop-out. but literally nothing happens here, so view this as PART 1 and PART 2, the answer to prompt (which couldn’t fit here and contains something of a Story) will be coming later

i hope you enjoy and i love you and i hope you had a great day!!! :-**

Silverflint, rated E because cmon it’s for El

Three days after they first met, Silver rolls out from under him and asks, “Hey, didn’t you want me to make you any liquor at some point?”

Flint stops sucking on his neck. “Anyone ever tell you, you got a good work ethic?”

“Really?”

Flint hums, begins moving lower down Silver’s body. “A good work ethic turns me on.”

A few hours later, he leaves Silver out smoking on the fire escape while he makes a phone call. He normally sleeps in the office above The Walrus, but it’s good to have a place to himself, too. His apartment isn’t lavish like the other men in his profession, but he’s never been a lavish man. Being a crook hasn’t changed that. It’s dim and quiet, too-often dusty. But he’s got a view of the city, and his favorite Chinese restaurant is downstairs. It’s the perfect place to lie low in case the heat is on, or in case he wants a little privacy. In all his time in Atlantic City, it’s always been the former. This makes for a nice change.

Plus, he can always count on the fact that, no matter the time of day, Billy the Bones will be held up in his office.

“I wondered where you’d run off to,” Billy says, crunching on some ice loudly into the receiver. “I thought you’d finally flung yourself off the pier.”

“Did you send out a search party?”

“Nah,” says Billy. “I’ve never known you do something you didn’t mean. Final wishes, and all.”

“I found a bootlegger.”

“Drowning would have been less of a surprise,” says Billy. “I thought this day would never come.”

From the desk in his parlor, he can see Silver out the window. His hair is a wild mass, too curly to properly style, and he likes the way it sits at the nape of his neck. He’d forgone a shirt entirely, sweat getting trapped between his skin and suspenders, and every so often he’ll shift to idly scratch the itch. He looks like the worst fever Flint ever had. Looking at him gives Flint the shakes.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Flint to Billy. “It needed to happen. Can’t afford to keep losing cargo to the waters. Anyone ever hear from Rackham?”

“Hell, you really have been under a rock these last few days. Feds picked up the Ranger two miles from the Florida coast.”

Flint sighs. He can’t let himself feel more than a trace of sympathy for them, but he feels it. They more than knew the risk involved, after all. At least he can be sure they didn’t drop a dime on him, or else he’d have heard from Billy days ago.

“All the more reason to go in on our own,” Flint says, rubbing his forehead. “Our own joint, our own supply. It’ll be simpler this way.”

“Yeah, as simple as a bullet to the brain.” They call him Billy the Bones because he breaks them, but also because he’ll speak to you plain. Which sometimes means stating the obvious. “We’ll still have the A.C. Feds on us, especially without Miss Guthrie paying ‘em off.”

Flint needs a smoke, but his case is empty. He’d given his last to Silver, but that’s fine. He’s been thinking about using Silver’s stomach to roll his cigarettes ever since he first took his shirt off. “I’ll smooth things over with her,” Flint assures. “She likes me.”

“She likes your money more.” There’s a pause over the line as Billy helps himself to more of Flint’s private stash of booze. “You sure about the guy? You really mean to do this?”

Silver finishes his cigarette and crawls back in through the window. He tries to be casual about it, not let his embarrassment show at how awkward his wooden leg makes his movements. Flint enjoys the show, however. He likes the way the muscles in Silver’s arms move.

Once Silver gets inside, he ignores Flint on the phone. He picks up Flint’s hat, much nicer than his own, and tries it on in front of the mirror. He’d probably look more dapper with a shirt on, but Flint’s not about to give him any ideas about putting on more clothes.

“I never do anything I don’t mean,” Flint says, eyes on Silver. “How long?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, a faint scratch of pencil. “I can probably get us off the ground by the end of the week.”

“Probably?”

“I can get us off the ground by the end of the week,” says Billy, still scratching. “When do I get to meet this guy?”

Flint doesn’t want to admit that he has no idea what day it is. He thinks it might be a Sunday. Or maybe it just feels like how a summer Sunday afternoon is supposed to feel. The sound of mandolins from the restaurant downstairs twinkle into the apartment, somehow audible over the bells and hollers of the busy city street. The sun creeps in through the windows like a burglar, hotter than the devil, and Silver strolling by with Flint’s hat still on, heading to the kitchen to run some water over his face again. He pauses to run a hand through Flint’s hair as he goes by. It definitely feels like a Sunday afternoon.

Flint says, “Soon enough. You know I like to get to know a guy before jumping into bed with him.”

“Who were you just lying to?” Silver asks once Flint’s off the phone. He’s running a wet rag over his bare neck.

“The man arranging your distillery.” He unsticks himself from his chair. He probably should have put some pants on before calling Billy. He’d moved into the apartment in January. There’d been no telling then how fucking brutal the summers are

“Good thinking, not putting any clothes back on.” Silver drops the rag, comes over to grab his ass and chew on his ear. “It’s good to know I’m going into a business with a man who has that kind of forethought.”

Flint hustles him over to the couch, and they neck for awhile. He clings to Silver’s suspenders like a half-remembered dream, rubbing his cock against Silver’s pleated trousers which, on closer inspection, might actually be Flint’s. They stay that until the sun starts to lower, night rising slowly in the sky like a new bruise. He can’t remember the last time he’d gone this long without holding a gun. He never before knew how exhilarating it is to feel calm.

Eventually, Silver shimmies up the couch, forcing Flint up. Somehow, he’s managed to keep Flint’s hat on, although it’s cocked over his eyes. He pushes his suspenders off his shoulders, the top button the trousers already loose.

“I wasn’t lying before,” Flint says, eyeing the rest of the buttons like they’d done something personally to offend him. “I do like to get to know someone before getting into bed with them. Only it’s a figurative bed, in this case. I take my business more seriously than – whatever this is.”

It’s the kind of thing that might offend a dame, but Silver shrugs. “Of course.” He also stops unbuttoning his pants. “Although, I’m not ashamed to say, I’ve never stuck around so long after a fuck. I’ve never been in anyone’s arms without keeping one eye on the closest exit. So that….might be something.”

“Me too.” Flint says, though he is a little ashamed to say it. “About the sticking around thing. Did have someone once, a long time ago. That was before the war.”

Silver doesn’t ask him for any specifics, which Flint appreciates. “Never done anything like this, this fast either,” Silver admits, with the smallest of smirks. “It’s not so easy with a fella. It’s either a quick blow in a back alley somewhere, or dancing around him for months to see if he’s even kind of interested in pulling. Either way, it can be a pain.”

Flint curls his fingers over the edge of Silver’s waistband, and finally tugs them down. They must be Flint’s, the way they slide down easily over his hips. He finds he’s fallen madly in love with Silver’s legs, but he can’t figure out how to tell Silver that without pissing him off. Sure, he’s only got one and a half now, but Christ, they’re working overtime to make up for it. He loves the muscle, the pale skin visible beneath the dark black hairs, how good they feel clenched tight around his waist. For some reason, the foot has always struck Flint as the most masculine feature, more so than even the cock or the chest. Silver’s foot is long and slender, finely haired and veined, perfectly arched and one-of-a-kind, like the fucking Arc de Triomphe.

“If either of us were a dame,” Flint says, tugging the trousers delicately over the edge of Silver’s wooden leg. It doesn’t bother him, but Silver removes it anyway, “no one would bat an eye at us tumbling to bed right away. Hell, by now, people would be expecting wedding bells already.”

Silver pauses in unbuckling his boot. “You asking me to marry you?”

“No, I’m asking you to go into business with me,” Flint says. “Almost the same thing. Great risk of financial ruin, codependency, emotional strife, but at least this way there won’t be any fucking kids in the mix.”

“It’s not that easy,” Silver says. “It can’t be.”

“You came into my life just as I was contemplating a change,” Flint says. “And you got more change than a piggy bank, doll.” He sits back on the other end of the couch, content to just look at him for awhile. “I don’t need to tell you, but there are two things you learn, being stuck in a trench.”

“How not to panic and blow your brains out when you realize the man you’ve been speaking to for twenty minutes hasn’t had his lower half attached to his upper half the entire time?”

“Okay, three things.”

“That there is no God and there never was, but that sure as Hell doesn’t mean there isn’t a devil.”

“Okay, four things. Will you let me finish?”

Silver presses his toes into Flint’s stomach, trailing down. He smiles in a way that implies he’s seen the way Flint looks at his foot. “Sorry.”

“Thank you.” Flint twitches in an effort to keep still, as Silver’s foot moves over him. “You learn that your country has no goddamn respect for you, your life, your potential, your future, and that it hasn’t actually done anything to earn the same.”

“Wow. You mean to tell me you were an upstanding young citizen before the war?”

“You bet your sweet ass I was.” He pours himself over Silver like a thunderstorm, grabbing said sweet ass. Silver’s foot is still braced against him, drawn up on his thigh. “You weren’t?”

“”Fraid I’ve always been a cad,” says Silver, arching into him, sliding his leg over Flint’s back. “What’s the second thing? Or fourth thing?”

“That life is too short and too fucking ridiculous to pussyfoot around with what you want,” Flint says. “That the only thing you can plan for is the sunrise and the sunset, and any other attempt in between is just bathwater.”

Silver cups his neck, bringing him forward to kiss. “Well, that’s jake,” he says against Flint’s lips. “But I’m sorry to say I already made plans for us this evening.”

“Is that right?”

Silver hums. “First, I was gonna blow you while wearing this swell hat of yours,” he says. “And then I was gonna have you go downstairs and fetch me some of that chop suey I like.”

“And who’s saying I’m not getting to know you?” asks Flint, already falling backwards again onto the couch. He’s been half-hard since they first started kissing on the couch, after his phone call, but he’d felt no rush to deal with it. He could acknowledge it without caring too much, like the financial section of the papers. A cursory glance, but he’d had other headlines to read.

Silver crawls panther-like over him, settling in between his thighs with his stupid fedora still on his head. He grips Flint’s cock and runs his wet lips from tip to base, before leaning under to nuzzle his balls. Flint moans, curling forward. He wants to grip his hair but the damn hat is in the way, so he squeezes Silver’s neck instead.

Silver’s hum of pleasure at being held hits Flint like a good song – the fine hairs on his arms all stand on end and he finds himself wanting to hear it over and over, knowing instantly he’ll never tire of the sound. Then Silver kisses up Flint’s length with obscene smacks before sealing his lips over the head and sucking down.

“Fuck!” Flint cries out, legs closing tightly around Silver’s head instinctively. He feels Silver moan against him, and then Silver suddenly stops sucking. He grabs the inside of Flint’s thighs and wrenches them apart, keeping him there with a strong hold.

“Don’t crumple your hat,” Silver pulls off to say sternly. “It costs more than my entire apartment.”

Before Flint could respond, Silver swallows him down completely. Flint curses again, back arching, but with Silver’s hold on his legs he can barely thrust forward into Silver’s generous mouth. The joints in his thighs ache at being held open, and he feels aggressively exposed like this, unable to do much else beside pant and curse and scratch at Silver, digging his heels into his shoulderblades.

Silver keeps pushing down on Flint’s thighs, fingers spread and pressing into the freckles there like a pianist who fell asleep at the keys. All Flint hears is a loud, echoing, vibrating din in his heart. He’s hoping their endeavor together is successful, but one way or another he thinks Silver might ruin him.

He comes looking down at Silver’s eyes beneath the hat, blue and nimble as a melody that’ll stick in his head for the rest of the night. When he finally lets go of Flint’s thighs, they’re slow to come back together. The stretch always feels good, in the end.

He’s breathing like a man late to his own confession, watching Silver wipe at the corner of his lips with his thumb. Silver taps the brim of the fedora with a finger so it’s tilted back over his head. It’s not the first time he’s sucked Flint’s cock since their isolation began, but every time afterwards he looks to Flint like he’s waiting for a shiny blue ribbon.

Flint reaches for him. “Let me…”

Silver pushes his hand away. “Later. Gives us something to do after dinner. Chop suey, if you please.”

When Flint slides this trousers on, the same pair Silver had on earlier, Silver pulls him down by the waist to kiss him. He hasn’t put his leg back on yet, and is lounging naked on the couch like Cleopatra. He plops the hat back on Flint’s head, even though he’s just going downstairs, wearing an undershirt and no shoes.

“I want you to know I’m taking this seriously,” Silver says. “Our partnership. I know you’re putting a lot on faith, with me.” He tucks an errant red curl behind Flint’s ear. “It’s a risk. You’re gonna catch a lot of trouble with troublesome people, I wager.”

Neither of them have found time to shave these last couple days. Flint likes the soft hiss of their stubble brushing together when he bites the corner of Silver’s mouth, far more than he likes the words coming out of it. “No worries, doll. We’re in the clear with this.”

Silver smiles against him, barely enough space between them for a tune to pass through. “Hell,” he says. “That bad, huh?”

When Flint’s walking back up the tiny, dark staircase to his apartment a little while later, delicious food warm in his hands, he has to pause at his door. The only light in the hall comes from the small windows above each entryway, and his is glowing hot and yellow. He rests his forehead against the chipped wood, feeling the noise. Since he stepped out, Silver has found his Columbia Grafonola and got it working. He can hear the muffled lilt of Lee Morse seeping through the cracks in his old home, and even though he’s listening to it from the other side, it sounds clearer than any bell he’s ever heard. His place seems alive for the first time in a very long time, just from the knowledge that there’s someone else on the inside of it.

It’s not that bad at all. There’s no way it could be.

#black sails #silverflint #black sails fanfic #silverflint fic #for my lovely #jadedbirch #on this her birthday #i hope you like it!!!!!! even though it's basically just Banter and Suspenders #i found on spotify a playlist entitled The Naughty 1920s #which is illuminating #and will feature heavily in the next installment #noir au #hey look it's my suffering

[pinapple-qween]

Silence (part 2)

Part 1 here , Part 3 here , Part 4 here

Relationship: Batfam x Reader

Summary: You washed up on shore and the batfam found you. Bruce being Bruce, he decided to take you in.

Key: Y/N= your name

About two months after you washed up on Gotham shore, you were silent, but you could make small sounds. You became more vibrant in your day to day life, but you liked to hang around Alfred. He became very fatherly to you and he loved you like a daughter. Alfred and you had made a system of motions, that he told Bruce and the boys, so you could communicate.

Alfred was cleaning the family room and you were watching him.

“Ah-el,” you croaked. This was your name for Alfred. It was the most sound you learned to make. You had figured it out while listening to Jason read pretty much the entirety of Bruce’s library

“Yes?” You began explaining that you were hungry and it was almost lunchtime. “Ah, yes Miss Y/N. The men shall be awake soon and I better have a feast ready.” He watched as you threw your head back, mimicking what you had seen as laughter. He shook his head smiling, “Come on miss.”

You loved to help Alfred cook. It was something that needed no words, like dancing. You and Alfred moved with such grace throughout the kitchen, it was like you two had choreographed it. You were working on sandwiches and Alfred was working on salad and putting together a assortment of veggies. You smiled as you spread sauce on bread. Alfred watched with admiration. 

He’s been so impressed with how you’ve been adjusting. It took the other boys so long to get used to the manor, but they also wanted to rely on Bruce. While that was adorable, it wasn’t very practical. You had gotten yourself attached to the man who had picked up on how to take care of people, not the one with a stunted emotional development. (jk I Love Bruce)

Jason was the first one up, he had made this a habit when he would purposefully sleep in the library, waiting for you to make your way in. Jason was the second person in the manor you began to be open with. “Mornin’ kiddo,” Jason rubbed your head. You motioned that it was well past morning. “Yeah, yeah. Try fighting crime and waking up before noon.”

Yes, you knew the family secret. Because of the time you spent at the manor, and your experience at the beginning, Bruce decided it wasn’t a big deal. You playfully punched Jason’s arm and handed him a sandwich. “Thanks kid.” He sat at the island right when Dick came in.

You and Dick had an interesting relationship. He loved to talk, he would talk for hours on end. While this was good, it also was really annoying because you could never get a ‘word’ in. He didn’t pause and pay attention well enough for you to be apart of his conversations. “Hey babybird,” he used his nickname for you, “What’s for breakfast?”

“Master Dick, we have sandwiches and salad for lunch,” Alfred stated pointedly. Dick just laughed and got a plate.

It was a while before Bruce came down, dragging Tim with him. “Remind me to remove all caffeine from Tim’s reach.”

Jason spoke into his drink, “Won’t be too hard.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Tim shouted at him.

“It means you’re short.” You flung your head back with a wide smile on your face. The boys noticed and laughed along with you. They found it endearing the way you laughed, no sound but complete enjoyment. Bruce even cracked a smile as well.

After everyone had settled down, you noticed Damian hidden in the corner of the kitchen. You threw your arms up, gaining attention, “Eh,” you called and pointed to Damian. “Ah, Master Damian, come to join the fun?” Damian sneered sarcastically. Alfred handed you his plate and you took it to Damian.

Your relationship with Damian had changed drastically since your first encounter. Damian was very compassionate towards you, he found a way to understand your situation. You and Damian spent quite a bit of time together drawing, painting, or he would do art and you would just sit and watch. He wouldn’t let anyone else know, but you were his favorite, not just because you didn’t talk nonstop like some other people. Also, you and Damian had come up with secret motions that not even Alfred knew, they made you feel special.

You gave Damian the symbol for ‘very boring conversation, change it?’. Damian looked at you then spoke up, “Hey, who painted Jason’s helmet with a smiley face?” It was a bold lie, but it did change the conversation.

“WHAT?” Jason bounced to his feet. “WHO? WHO?”

“Master Jason, you aren’t an owl please.” You began to laugh again and Alfred laughed with you. Jason glared at the two of you before he stormed away, checking on his precious helmet. 

You looked at the clock when you brought your head back down. Shocked, you realized Bruce was going to be late to a Wayne Enterprise meeting. You jumped over to Bruce, pulling on his sleeve, “Eh, eh!”

“Y/N? Y/N? What is it? What’s wrong?” You tried to tell him to look at the time, but Bruce wasn’t as up-to-date on your motions as everyone else. You began tugging again. “Dear, what?” Dick finally noticed and watched your motions.

“Bruce, she’s telling you to look at the time.”

“Time? Why-oh! Tim, we’re going to be late for the meeting,” Bruce bellowed, grabbing the boy and dragging him out of the room.

Confused, Dick looked at the clock. “Oh man! I was supposed to meet Kori,” Dick shoved some food into his mouth, “Fanks Alf, got ta fly!”

This left you, Damian, and Alfred in the kitchen. Alfred requested that you and Damian leave so that he could clean up and you agreed. Not sure what to do, you suggested the garden. Damian nodded and you walked in silence out to the garden.

When you got outside, you kicked off your shoes. The feeling of grass under your toes was just to good for you to pass up. Damian watched as you frolicked around the garden. Ever since you came, everyone’s lives had changed. The manor was alive, more than just the boys fighting each other. There was an overwhelming need in everyone to keep you safe and make sure you were happy, especially because the family had finally found out who you were.

You were the daughter of a sea captain, Captain Ruther. Captain Ruther was in charge of one of Wayne Enterprises’s many cargo ships. The captain was a widower with a daughter. She was a bright and kind girl who only wanted the best for her father. She hated when she was left with the neighbor and he went on his trips. She always tried to stow away and he would always catch her, a sad smile on his face.

“My dearest, if you come with me, who will watch over Gotham while I’m gone?” He would always ask. She would look to the floor and mutter ‘me’. “Yes my dear, please? Be the best and I’ll be home soon.”

But one day, the captain didn’t see as she snuck her way onto the ship. She slipped past the crew into the cargo bay. She listened as her father did a final check and walked away. When she was positive he was out of sight, she tip-toed up to the main deck. That was when she smelled the smoke. She was curious as to the source and went to find it. The smoke was pouring out of the captain’s quarters. Afraid her father was on fire, she quickly opened the door and was greeted with a face full of smoke. She accidentally breathed it in, causing a coughing fit. 

The coughing attracted the attention of Captain Ruther, on the deck above, and he went to check the source. There he found his daughter, lying on the floor in front of a fire. He screamed. The crew then became aware of the fire but it was too late. The captain grabbed his daughter and ran up to the top deck. She was crying, she didn’t mean for this to happen and she couldn’t tell her father she was sorry. She looked him right in the eyes before the bang.

Yes, Y/N had watched her father die without being able to say sorry. She may not remember the sad events, but something in the back of her mind wouldn’t let her forget. Damian watched the poor girl as she lived a life in the dark, he decided to capture you in a moment you looked happiest. He took out the pad of paper and pencils he kept outside and began to draw.

#bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd imagine #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #dick grayson imagine #jason todd x reader #tim drake imagine #damian wayne imagine #batman #nightwing #red hood #red robin #robin #batfam imagine #batfam #richard grayson

[prplpnk]

Letters

The battle against the Legion carries on. Caraenyl, who has been safely holed up at the Hall of the Guardian, only wants one thing.

This took me way too long to write lol. Please enjoy! <3

 My Dearest Kai,

 I hope this letter finds you doing well. Congratulations on being named Shadowblade, we have to celebrate that when you have the time. You must be very busy, with all this nonsense I hear coming from the Broken Shore; it feels like ages since you last wrote me, but I more than understand that you have very little time to yourself these days.

The Tirisgarde are keeping me busy with research; I’ve lost count of all the books I’ve read about Felo’melorn, but at least the fictional ones were a nice break from the monotony of facts and speculation.

This might not be possible to answer, but do you know when you’ll be able to meet up again in Dalaran? It’s alright if you can’t plan too far ahead, with keeping a strong presence on the Broken Shore, coming to the aid of people when packs of Legion randomly invade, plus setting up raids on the strongest Legion holds. I wish I could be there with you, fighting by your side, but nobody will give me permission! Archmage Hikoto says I’m not ready and that I’m most needed in the Hall, but I don’t really buy that.

Hardly a moment goes by when I don’t think of you. Please, please stay safe and don’t do anything too reckless or I’ll write El and Luu and ask them to drag you away.

I love and miss you, very much.

 All My Heart,

Caraenyl

After letting the ink dry, Caraenyl carefully folded up the painfully short letter, placed his love’s name upon it, and fed it into the magical portal upon the mailbox within the Hall of the Guardian, his home for nearly the last year. He sighed, hoping Kai wouldn’t be disappointed with how short it was.

Cara had been writing to Kai at least once a week since he’d been stuck in the Hall, a floating mage tower above Dalaran. At first, it was easy enough to fill up two or three pages, but of course back then had also included updates to his health and the wonders of being in such a magically-charged place; something the mage hadn’t experienced in years.

Now, with the charm warn off, his body fully healed, and his mundane job, Cara seemed to have very little to write to his fiancé about.

The mage sighed and made his way up to the sleeping quarters. It was getting late; most of the apprentices and those who maintained the Hall were getting ready for sleep, while others readied for the night shift.

Caraenyl’s bed was small and cold, sitting in a large room with many other similar beds, most already filled with softly snoring mages. Cara got beneath the covers, not bothering to change into nightclothes as they were never warm enough. Curling up tight, he knew it would be another night with little sleep. The large fire floating in the center of the room gave off a gentle glow, but little to no heat and the mage could never get warm enough.

He drifted off only to be awoken a couple hours later by a severe chill down his spine. Cara was freezing and he got up, keeping his blankets wrapped around him, walking towards the glowing fire. He almost thrust his hands directly into the flames, but it still took several seconds for him to feel the heat against his skin. The mage placed his slightly warm hands upon his face, a feeble attempt at transferring the heat.

Several minutes of this only managed to wake him up instead of really warming him and he groaned quietly in defeat. Tossing the blankets back onto the self-making bed, Caraenyl grabbed his long cloak and headed through the nearly empty halls to the portal that lead to the city.

Dalaran was only slightly warmer than the Hall, but still floated very high up; Cara was convinced it kept the chill from Northrend. The city was fairly quiet, the lanterns giving off a warming glow as towers stretched into the starry sky. Most of the shops were closed, save for blacksmiths and armorers; adventurers darted in and out of those buildings despite the late hour. The mage slowly walked the streets, letting his mind wander. He found it difficult to not think about Merekai and Elithuin, his dear lovers. It had been some time since he’d seen either of them; the Legion was keeping everyone on the front lines busy, including all of Cara’s friends.

Caraenyl sighed heavily, plopping down upon a bench near the bank on the Horde side of the city. He felt so useless; he’d been healed for many months now, but he still wasn’t allowed down into the Broken Isles.

It had been a mistake, poor judgement on his part. Cara had been so excited to actually defeat the Legion when they first returned to Azeroth (they were the ultimate force behind the destruction of Silvermoon, thus the true killers of his family) that he didn’t wait for the others. He had ventured into Val’sharah to first assist the druids with driving out the new kind of Nightmare that was poisoning the land. The Nightmare, as the mage found out, was vicious and unrelenting. Caraenyl had barely been able to get away from some kind of swamp creature and had been severely hurt in the process.

Twisted ankle, broken ribs, fractured wrist, broken arm, slight concussion, black eye and a myriad of bruises, bumps and lacerations; the healers at Dalaran were sure to point out every injury to Kai and El, who had both rushed to the mage’s side upon receiving the news. Neither looked happy and Cara couldn’t blame them. He promised to not do that again and to rest.

With Caraenyl not being in any condition to fight, the leader of the Tirisgarde suggested he help Edirah, the Tirisgarde Researcher, with looking into the full history of Felo’melorn. Cara found he didn’t have much choice and agreed, sitting at a table surrounded with books day after day. The mage quickly found that, while he did enjoy reading, doing research was extremely boring.

During the last year, Cara found himself certain of two things. One, Edirah was keeping most of the good books for herself and passing on the second-grade to crap books about the legendary weapon to Caraenyl; and two, Archmage Hikoto, leader of the Tirisgarde, had been asked by Kai and El to keep him safe.

The mage felt more than ready to be out on the field, killing demons and helping to destroy the Legion, all beside his lovers. All his requests to do so, however, had been denied.

He hugged his knees upon the bench; what he wanted more than killing demons was to just be with the men he loved again. He missed them so much; at least they’d see each other more on the front lines and could sleep together in tents between battles. Cara wanted to feel their warmth beside him again as he slept.

“Feeling sorry for yourself, are you?”

The mage jumped a little at the voice, looking up to see an undead woman walking up to him. She wore dark leather, her head hooded and face covered with a mask. Caraenyl could only make out the eerily dark sockets where her eyes should have been and he swallowed nervously. “E-excuse me?”

“You’re Caraenyl,” she stated flatly, standing beside the bench.

Cara glared a bit in suspicion. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m a member of the Uncrowned; Shadowblade Korveris talks about you all the time.”

The mage’s ears perked up. “You know Kai?”

“A little,” the rogue said, rolling her shoulders, “though I feel I know you more. The Shadowblade worries for you and that’s why I’m here.”

Sitting up, Cara smiled. “Kai sent you!”

“No, the stubborn fool doesn’t know I went looking for you. Doesn’t know a lot of things, that one.”

Confusion swirled around the mage’s head. “Well… you found me. What do you want?”

“You’re turning the Shadowblade into a tight knot of worry; he’s sending half of the Uncrowned to watch you when he should be sending them to spy on the Legion.”

“Why would—”

“Because of your letters!” the rogue snapped, her slightly hoarse voice sounding even more grated. “Every letter you send mentions how you want to go to the front lines in this war, but the Shadowblade knows you’re not ready and is fearful you’ll do something stupid.”

Caraenyl scowled, standing before the slightly shorter undead. “It’s been a year! A year of taking it easy, reading books, doing boring research; I am ready to fight!”

The rogue simply looked at him for a moment, Cara still not sure if eyes filled her dark, creepy sockets, before quickly striking. Her left foot swung out, scooping the mage’s right foot out from underneath him and he fell back, his right leg locking at the knee harshly, making him cry out as he hit the cold walkway. Pain shot from his knee and he reached down to gently rub at it, stiff muscles screaming at the touch.

“That injury is older,” the undead stated, crouching beside Caraenyl, “and it seems it never healed properly.”

The mage hissed, adding a bit of ice to his knee and choosing not to comment. It was an old injury, one incurred while invading Draenor. His right leg had pretty much gotten mangled while destroying the Dark Portal; once proper portals had been set up back to Azeroth, Cara had been escorted back home while his loves continued the fight against the Iron Horde. His leg took the longest to heal, but even then he had been warned that it might not ever be the same. The muscles healed too tightly around his knee and while Cara learned to walk without a limp, sudden movements that put too much weight or pulled the muscles taught across his knee would cause severe pain.

‘This time was supposed to be different….’ Caraenyl shook his head as the pain ebbed. “You got me with a cheap shot, I can handle myself.”

“Like you did in Val’sharah?”

The mage tried not to flinch as he sat up, slowly rubbing his knee. “I’ve admitted that was my fault. I should have waited for Kai and El to join me there.”

“You shouldn’t have gone at all!”

Cara glared at the rogue, starting to get annoyed. “If Kai had been there—”

“Then he’d been the one hurt, covering for you!”

“I wouldn’t let that happen!”

“How could you stop it? You couldn’t keep yourself from getting hurt, let alone protecting anyone else!”

Caraenyl’s hands curled into fists. “I nearly lost Kai on Draenor… I will never let that happen again.”

“He nearly lost you on Draenor! That’s why he’s keeping you away from battle now!” The rogue sighed, her next words soft. “He’s already gone through the loss of people he loves; Shadowblade Korveris doesn’t need to go through that again.”

Cara’s expression softened and he looked away, remembering Kai had been married many years ago and lost his wife to disease and childbirth, his child died only a couple years later due to a heart problem. That’s when he’d moved to Gilneas, abandoning the farmhouse he had.

Silence fell between them as Cara remembered his fiancé’s expression every time his past family was brought up, the sadness in his eyes and that spark of fear the mage could never understand. Maybe he did now. It was for him; looking back, the mage realized that fear was about losing another love. Caraenyl couldn’t blame him, he still had similar fears of Kai leaving him, although not as strongly as he once did.

Maybe… maybe the mage was being a bit selfish, wanting to fight beside Kai despite his knee. This undead rogue was right, he really was in no condition to fight properly and hold his own without putting those around him at a greater risk, too.

Caraenyl nodded softly in understanding; the rogue helping him to his feet. Her hands felt colder than his as she held them, again looking right at the mage’s face. “I hope the next letter the Shadowblade gets will ease his worries.”

Cara smiled a little and gently squeezed her hands in response, nodding again. His voice felt tight, his heart knowing what he should say to Kai but still not fully wanting to.

“The last thing I have to tell you is this: If you get yourself killed and put Korveris through that trauma again I will personally ask the Dark Lady to raise you as undead so I can kick your ass myself.”

The mage felt the blood drain from his face at the threat and he swallowed his fear to settle uneasily in his gut. “U-understood!”

The rogue stared for another moment before releasing his hands and walking away, cloak billowing behind her.

Caraenyl watched her back, confused for a moment before it fully dawned on him who he’d been talking to and he called out, “Avalina?!”

The undead woman stopped, looking over her shoulder. “That’s your only warning,” she stated and continued on the path, soon disappearing around a corner.

Cara stared after her, frozen in shock. Had that been Kai’s late wife? Would a member of the Uncrowned be worried or upset enough with how Merekai was behaving to come find the mage and talk to him about it? Cara had a feeling the person he’d talk to was in fact Avalina Korveris, but really had no way to prove it. Not that he really wanted to run to Kai and tell him; if that was Avalina, she would have told him, right? And if she didn’t, there was a reason for it and Cara realized it wasn’t his place to say anything. How happy would Kai be, anyway, knowing that his late wife was one of the walking dead?

Shaking off that revelation, Caraenyl returned to the Hall of the Guardian and climbed back into his small, cold bed. He no longer had any urge to sleep, but his still-sore knee needed to be put up for a few hours. He kept it iced as he stared out a nearby window, thinking about the next letter. It would have some finality to it and he wondered how his fiancé would handle it.

Several hours passed, sunlight was just starting to peer through the window. Cara’s knee felt better, but he was still careful as he made his way down to the desk he’d been occupying for the last year. He got out a fresh piece of parchment, ink, and his favorite quill and started to write.

 My Dearest Kai,

 I know I wrote you only yesterday, but there is something we need to talk about.

First, I’m sorry for the selfish way I’ve been lately. I guess you’ve always known that my right leg didn’t heal properly and I am no longer valuable in a serious fight. I see that now and I’m sorry to worry you. I no longer want to fight with you, not if it means I could be the reason behind injuries or loss of life. I was being stubborn.

Which brings me to my question; would you like me to go back to our home in the Hinterlands? I’ve learned the portal spell to Dalaran quite well by now so it wouldn’t be a problem to bounce back and forth to see each other whenever you get the time.

It’ll be hard being so far away from everything, but I’d rather be waiting for you to return safely than you constantly worried about my safety.

I love you, Kai. I look forward to your next letter.

 All My Heart,

Caraenyl

 The mage sighed, once again waiting for the ink to dry before folding the letter, addressing it to Merekai, and placing it into the portal upon the mailbox in the Hall. A small smile graced his lips when he returned to his desk.

Cara would wait; soon they could have their wedding and be together forever.

#KaiCara #WoW Fanfiction #Caraenyl #Merekai #sappy shit #should I put this on AO3?? #I don't know anymore lol

[atombonniebaby]

Love in the Crosshairs: Just the Thing I need

Some notes!

(Love in the Crosshairs is my Nate and MacCready series 🙌 Part one begins Vanilla blends into SS2's storyline and jumps between Nate and Mac's POV)

(Note on the title: When Jake did his "Why it's an ASAM, just the thing I need!" I was fully invested in Sim Settlements 2 🤣)

Now that I have finally complete SS2, I know exactly how this whole thang plays out 💪🏻 I got 4 chapters for ya! (and then some...but those ain't in order yet 🤣)

----

Relationships: Nate & MacCready (father-son dynamic🙌), Nate/Jake Evans (SS2) MacCready/Sturges

Chapter 1: War Never Changes.

(I've posted this prologue before...but I have more chapters!)

Sanctuary Hills October 23, 2077.

Deep red leaves rustled in the crisp autumn air as the sun began to creep up over the hillside, casting a murky haze over the serene show of contemporary suburban living, America's "Homes of the Future." The residents of Sanctuary Hills lived in blissful ignorance as the world held its breath to the ever-present threat of Nuclear Devastation. Amidst the suburban sprawl, the morning sun warmed the cheeks of Nathanial Alasdair Watt, Nate to his nearest and dearest.

Nate leaned over a dusty blue cot, his eyes not quite believing that the soft and squishy bundle snoring away was his son. Months old already, how long would it be before he would be chasing after him around the cul-de-sac? With a lingering glance over Shaun, Nate slipped out of his room and stepped into the hallway, closing the door softly behind him. The house was quiet, and Nate's footsteps echoed in the empty hall, leading him to the kitchen.

"Ah, Master Nate! Good morning, sir!” Codsworth chirped, his eye stalks flitting in greeting. "Your coffee. 173.5 degrees Fahrenheit. Brewed to perfection!"

"Ah'll take yer word for it," Nate yawned, a fond smile spreading across his face as he reached for the steaming mug of coffee.

"Ah, of course, my apologies, Sir. 78.61 degrees Celcius!"

Nate snorted. "I flunked maths, son. Just say it's hot."

Codsworth let out a chuckle. "Ah, I forgot, the young miss is the brains of the operation."

"Aye, that she is. But she'll no be without a proper feedin'. Could you go rouse her for me?" Nate asked.

"Of course, Sir! Right away!" Codsworth trilled, floating away towards El's room.

"Good luck wi' that," Nate muttered, shaking his head. El liked her sleep, that one.

Nate chuckled, running a hand over his head, and frowned at the resistance. Big speech tonight. He could hardly rock up looking a scruffy mess, could he? With a sigh, he set his mug down and stretched out his back on the way to the bathroom.

"Lemme Sleep, Codsworth..."El's voice drifted through her door.

Ah, to be 19 again. Nate shook his head, smirking to himself as he turned to the closed-over bathroom door, a wide smile pulling in his cheeks when Nora's sweet voice filtered through, Shaun's favorite lullaby on her tongue. Nate would never tire of it or how her voice sent shivers down his spine.

"You're up early. How's my little man?" she asked as he stepped through the door. "I'm assuming you've been in there five times already?"

Nora, even under those horrid fluorescent bulbs, looked stunning. He caught her eye in the mirror she was brushing her hair in and gave her a wink. Nate took a few steps toward her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his lips brushing her neck. She hummed and leaned back into his embrace.

"What can I say, doll? Just like his mother, I cannae believe he's mine," Nate murmured, burying his face in her soft, icy-brown hair. "I keep thinkin' somebody's gonna pinch me, and I'll wake up from this dream."

Nora twisted in his arms, her green eyes sparkling. "You're a wonderful father, Nate. You shouldn't doubt yourself!"

"I hope so," Nate said, his ears growing hot. Nora knew him too well, and his bashful side never could stand up to her praise.

"I think Beth would agree with me. I mean, you practically raised that girl!"

Nate ducked his head and pressed a kiss to her nose. "She dotes on you, ye ken? She won't admit it, but she does."

"I like her too. I'm glad she's here. Now, care to explain why you interrupted my morning ritual?" Nora teased.

"I need some pamperin'," he raised his eyebrows. "Cannae hae this 'decorated war hero' looking like common street riff-raff, now can we?"

"Hmm," Nora smirked. "I dunno, that rugged Viking look is growing on me, Nathanial."

"Ooh, using my full name, eh?" he teased. "Am I in trouble, then, Mrs Watt?"

"You're always trouble, Nathanial Watt," Nora giggled.

"Tell the truth, doll. That's the real reason you married me, wasn't it?" Nate smirked. "That and the accent, aye?"

She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove away, returning to the mirror. Nate's grin lingered, his hands sliding to her waist. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head and rested his chin upon it, gazing at her reflection. She met his eyes, a warmth and tenderness reflected at him.

"I love you, lass," he murmured against her hair, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "More than I can say."

Nora didn't speak, only leaned back, melting against him, a familiar gesture that spoke volumes. Nate's arms tightened, and he closed his eyes, wishing they could stay like that forever.

"Go get your trimmer; I'll at least neaten you up a little," Nora said, her voice thick. "Then, I'll see about breakfast."

Nate pressed one last kiss to her head and drew a sharp breath. "Yes, ma'am."

"—war never changes,” Nate sighed, the steamy air heavy with the weight of his speech.

“You're gonna knock 'em dead at the Veteran's Hall tonight, hon,” Nora purred, her fingers massaging the knots from his shoulders.

"Ye think?" Nate relaxed against her touch, letting his eyes flutter shut.

"Absolutely. Now get ready and stop hogging the mirror..."

"Right," Nate snorted. He stepped away and let Nora take his place. "You might want to fix the buttons on your blouse, love."

He couldn't help a small smirk tugging on his lips as she re-buttoned her blouse, not quite meeting his gaze.

"Wipe that smug look off your face, Mr. Watt! You're the reason I never get anything done around here!" Nora teased.

Nate couldn't help bursting out laughing. "Why dae ye think I bought Codsworth?"

"Out!" Nora laughed, pushing him towards the door.

"Love ye too, darlin'." Nate gave her a mock salute and stumbled out of the bathroom.

"Miss Elspeth, breakfast was served thirty minutes ago!" Codsworth's muffled voice met him through the opposing door.

"Codsy! Bugger off!...and 'ave told ye… it's Beth!" came El's equally muffled reply.

"My, my. For such a brilliant young mind, Miss Beth, your language leaves much to be desired."

"Get tae fuck, or I'll turn ye into a toaster!" El spat back, a bit louder this time.

"By God! I don't believe General Atomics programmed me with enough patience for this!" Codsworth sighed.

"I'll handle this." Nate interrupted, opening the door.

"Good luck, that child's got the mouth of a drunkard."

"I'm weeks away from twenty ye daft bucket o' bolts!" El retorted.

Codsworth sighed, bobbing past him a little less chipper than before. Poor bugger.

Nate chuckled and shook his head. Wearing that damn onesie, she was akin to an overgrown toddler in a babygro. El glared at him, her hazel eyes flashing with a fire that reflected his own, her cheeks flushed, auburn hair still a tangled mess, reminding him exactly why he opted for a smooth dome.

"Arse. Up. Now. Or I promise you I'll cancel that comic subscription I already reluctantly pay for."

El's eyes narrowed, a defiant glint remaining, a slight smirk curving her lips. "Ye wouldnae dare."

"Try me," Nate raised a brow and folded his arms. "And to rub it in, I'll replace it with one about all the latest fashion trends, braw big frilly skirts and whatnot..."

"Fine. Ye win." El rolled her eyes, sauntering past him.

"Smart move," Nate smirked.

"Bite me!" El snapped, stomping into the now vacant bathroom.

Nate chuckled, shaking his head, and approached the kitchen, his stomach growling in anticipation.

"Breakfast is served sir," Codsworth set down a plate of eggs and toast.

"Thanks. And if ye need the afternoon off to recharge after the morning ye've had, you take it!" Nate smirked.

"A good show of humor, sir, but with a steady supply of Mr. Handy fuel, I am proud to serve!" Codsworth chirped.

"Attaboy."

"Your thoughts?" Nora's voice drifted over him, snapping his attention back to the present.

Nate blinked, glancing at his wife. She was studying him, her brows knitted. Damn. "I'm worried about her, doll. She won't admit it, but she's been having trouble sleeping again. I cannae remember the last time I saw her without dark circles under her eyes."

"She's just stressed. It's been a big year for her. Why don't you take her away for a few days? It's been a while since you two had time together," Nora suggested. "You could take a little road trip or something?"

"Aye, I'd been considering it, but I can hardly leave you with the wee one, can I?"

"I've got Codsworth to help. And besides, Shaun's not exactly a handful." Nora grinned, nudging him. "Take her. Trust me, she needs it."

Nate chewed his lip, his brows furrowed. Maybe she had a point. El had always loved his impromptu adventures.

"Okay, I'll talk to her about it—"

"Talk to me about what?" El asked, walking into the living room, her frown deepening as she looked between them. "I'm sorry! I know I've been—"

"No, stop right there! " Nate shushed her. "Ye don't go apologizing...I know you've been overloaded lately with all your projects."

El shrugged, dropping onto the couch beside him, her eyes fixed on the TV. "Yeah, I guess. It's just a lot, and I—"

"Deserve a break? Me and Nora reckon you've earned one," Nate grinned, nudging her. "So, how about we take off in a day or two? It's been a while since we've done a drive together, just you and me?"

"Wait, you're serious?" El stared at him, a smile breaking across her face, but her frown returned as she turned to Nora. "You're okay with that?"

"Are you kidding? Some peace and quiet, hell yeah, I'm okay with that," Nora barked a laugh. "And Codsworth's here to help, so I'll be fine."

"I like her, Nate. Can we keep her?" El smirked.

Nate's laughter bubbled, shaking his head. "Aye, she's a keeper, alright."

Nora gave them a fond smile, rising from the couch."Alright, you two, I'm going to help Codsworth tidy up, give you time to plan."

"Thanks, love," Nate's fingers curled hers as she pulled away, before turning his attention back to El.

"So, short-stop, any votes on where ye want tae go?"

"Laurey, Virginia—"

"The Caverns, again, lass?" Nate's eyebrow quirked.

"Come on, it's been months since we went to D.C. We could do a day trip to Laurey and then spend the rest of our time exploring the Capital!"

"Fine, but that damn mole costume is stayin' put!" Nate chuckled.

"She looked adorable in that thing. Never know, maybe she'll catch someone's eye!" Nora's laughter floated over them from the kitchen, and Nate grinned.

El blushed, her hand rubbing against the back of her head sheepishly. "I'll stick to studying, ta—"

"Quite right. I don't think there'd be many nerdy, bookworm Spelunkers out there that could put up with your pish!" He couldn't resist.

El's nose wrinkled, and her eyes narrowed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence—jackass."

Nate snorted and leaned back, his arms draped over the back of the couch, tuning into the TV.

The same usual shite.

A knocking came to the door, and Nora sighed. "It's probably that salesman. He's been trying all morning, insisting he talks to you."

"Oh, great." Nate rolled his eyes and lurched out of the sofa.

An all-smiles fella in a trenchcoat greeted him when he opened the door, stepping forward. "Good morning! Vault-Tec calling!"

"Sup, chief," he deadpanned, leaning against the doorframe.

"You can't begin to know how happy I am to finally speak with you. I've been trying for days. It's a matter of utmost urgency, I assure you," the rep explained.

Nate frowned—something about the guy's tone made him nervous.

"Alright, son, I'm here now."

"So you are, so you are,' the rep chuckled. "I'm here today to tell you that because of your family's service to our country, you have been pre-selected for entrance into the local Vault. Vault 111. I just need to verify some information. That's all! Don't want there to be any hold ups, in the unforeseen event of *ahem*...total atomic annihilation."

"But there's room for my entire family, right?"

"Of course. Of course! Minus your robot, naturally."

"Oi, Codsworth is family!" El retorted, appearing at his side, her eyes narrowed. "He's a wee gem! We can't just leave him!"

Nate's hand fell upon his sister's shoulder, squeezing it. "General Atomics promised Codsworth could survive anything, even a nuclear blast," he reminded her, her sentiment mirrored in his heart. "Go. I've got it from here."

El nodded, a defiant glint remaining in her eyes, but she stepped aside.

Nate glanced at the rep, his unease growing."All right, let's have it."

"Splendid, splendid. Let's get to it. Just need you to fill out this paperwork, and we're all done. Won't take but a moment."

The rep pulled a clipboard out of his briefcase and held it out towards him.

Nate frowned, his jaw tense, glancing down at the stack of papers. He took the clipboard and scanned the pages, his frown deepening.

"What makes me 'S.P.E.C.I.A.L?' That's a bit on the nose, is it no? And this whole damn thing seems a wee bit excessive, no offense, son."

"None taken! It's simply a matter of determining what roles you may be able to undertake in a new life underground!"

"Well, lucky for us, we have a certified vault technician in our fold. My sister just finished her Masters at C.I.T. Did a whole project around Vault safety and maintenance," Nate couldn't help the proud smile creeping into his cheeks.

"Masters? At C.I.T?" the rep's eyebrows shot up. "My, my, that's impressive."

"Aye, she got the brains of the family. I clearly got the looks," Nate joked, handing the clipboard back to the rep. "Think that's everything, chief."

"Wonderful! That's..." he skimmed over the documents, smiling. "Yes, indeed, that is everything... just gonna walk this over to the Vault! Congratulations on being prepared for the future!"

"Aye, thanks..." Nate forced a smile, his jaw still tense. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I have a wee one who needs a bit of a feed."

"Of course, have a great day, sir, ma'am!" The Vault-Tec rep tipped his hat and strolled off, the tension in the man's shoulders not lost on him.

He watched the rep go, his instincts prickling as he stepped back inside."Something aboot that didn't sit right, did it, El?"

"I didn't like it, Nattie. You don't think he's doing this because—"

"Elspeth, don't get him started," Nora interrupted, her voice strained. "It's just a precaution, that's all."

Nate swallowed his throat tight. "Maybe ye're right, doll, but just in case, we should double-check the go bags."

Shaun's wails rang through the house. Cutting through his words, Codsworth followed.

"Master Nate. Shaun has been changed, but he absolutely refuses to calm down. I think he needs some of that "paternal affection" you seem to be so good at."

"I've got 'im." Nate smiled and strode down the hall, his unease lingering. Nora's footfalls followed.

"Right, ye wee gremlin," Nate teased, sweeping a finger over Shaun's cheek. Shaun's cries grew fainter, his teary gaze fixed on Nate.

"Spin the mobile a bit. He loves that," Nora cooed, stepping up beside him.

Nate gave the mobile a gentle spin. Shaun's gaze drifted to the spinning rockets, green eyes wide, and his cries now soft whimpers. Nora brushed Nate's arm with her hand.

"Maybe we should go out later, a walk in the park?"

"And miss the World Series on TV? Not going to happen." Nate smirked. "But tomorrow, I'm all yours! I promise."

"I'll hold you to—"

"Sir? Mum? You should come and see this!" Codsworth's urgent voice drifted over them.

Nate frowned, exchanging a glance with Nora. "Codsworth?"

"I've got Shaun," Nora assured him, scooping the baby up.

Nate hurried out of the nursery, a knot forming in his gut, his blood rushing. "Codsworth? What is it, son?"

"Sir... the news..."

El was perched on the couch, her knuckles white around her backpack, its contents organized on the coffee table. "They actually did it."

"Did what, lass?" Nate frowned, sitting beside her.

“—followed by... yes, followed by flashes. Blinding flashes. Sounds of explosions..." the news anchor caught his attention. "We're... we're trying to get confirmation…But we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations."

"What? What is he saying?" Nora's voice drifted over them. "…Oh no.”

“...We do have... coming in... confirmed reports. I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detonations in New York and Pennsylvania…My God.”

The screen crackled, and the signal was lost. Nate's gaze fixed on the 'Please Stand By' screen. His mouth ran dry, a cold sweat prickling across his forehead.

"We have to get to the Vault. Now! Get all that back in the bag. I'll grab the rest." Nate blurted, his heart pounding against his ribs.

"Nattie...I'm scared."

"We're goin' tae be fine, El. We've prepared for this...You two wait for me outside!" Nate instructed, racing into their bedroom.

He yanked open the closet, his hands trembling, hauling out his and Nora's packs, followed by Shaun's. He slung them over his shoulder and hurried through the house for the front door—stopping on the threshold, glancing over his shoulder at Codsworth.

The Mr. Handy's eye stalks flitted over him, and he glided forward. "Goodbye, sir. May I say what an honor it has been to serve you and your family!"

"Ye've done us proud, son...maybe we could—"

"Now, don't you worry about me, sir! You have your family to think about. Go on."

Nate nodded, a lump forming in his throat. "Thank you, Codsworth..."

"He'll be alright, won't he?" El's voice pulled his attention.

He stepped onto the sidewalk and grabbed his sister's hand. "He'll be fine. Now c'mon, we gotta move!"

They raced down the road, Nora ahead of him, Shaun cradled against her chest. Nate swallowed hard, his hand tightening around El's. His mind raced. Vault-Tec. The rep—he knew something was up. That bastard knew this was coming!

"Nattie?" El tugged his arm, slowing.

"We're almost there, lass. Keep moving! Come on, we're nearly there—"

"We're on the list!" Nora's frantic voice greeted them, and Nate frowned as that Vault-Tec rep darted by them.

A soldier blocked their way, checking over a clipboard."Infant... Adult male... Two adult females... OK, go ahead."

Nate's heart pounded. It was real. This was really happening. They climbed the hill and clambered onto the platform, his arms circling Nora and El.

"Almost there, we're gonna be alright. I love you, all of you." Nate murmured, his pulse throbbing in his ears.

"We love you too," Nora whispered, her gaze locked on his.

The sky lit up with blinding white light, and the ground shook beneath their feet. A deafening roar filled the air. Nate's eyes widened as a mushroom cloud grew colossal in the sky. The blast waves thunder towards them, and El buried her face against his chest. He closed his eyes, bracing for impact.

"Send it down now!" a desperate voice shouted.

An orchestra of "Oh gods" and terrorized screams flooded his ears. The platform shuddered beneath them. His arms held tighter.

The blast crossed over them. The screams echoed, his breaths shortening, the pressure around his ribcage suffocating.

He held Nora, his lips pressed to her head, praying she couldn't hear his racing heartbeat.

The light faded, and the shockwave died, his ears still ringing.

The platform shuddered to a halt.

His eyes met Nora's, tears streaming down her face.

They had made it.

"Everyone, please step off the elevator and proceed up the stairs in an orderly fashion," the Vault-Tec security guard that greeted them instructed.

El clung to him as Nate made a move to follow the others, her breaths ragged and short. He glanced at Nora, Shaun sleeping soundly in her arms.

"She'll be okay. We're right behind ye," Nate murmured. "We just need a minute."

Nora nodded, her hand resting on his shoulder. "We won't be far. I'll go find out what's what."

"Be right with ye," Nate murmured, kneeling to meet El's gaze. "Hey, hey, look at me, lass. Look at me. Deep breaths. In and out. Like we practiced."

El's eyes flicked up to his, wide and fearful. She bit her lip, nodding. Her next shaky intake of breath was longer.

"Good, lass. Again. In and out."

She followed his lead, and soon enough, El's breaths steadied as her panic subsided, her grip on his loosening.

"You're a natural," Nate grinned, easing himself up.

El didn't respond and instead stood closer. His arm circled her, guiding them toward the vast cog-shaped doorway that loomed above them. Nate's heart beat faster. This was home now, for better or worse.

"It's impressive, eh? No wonder ye wouldny pipe doon about these Vaults!" Nate quipped.

El glanced at him, a faint smirk pulling in her cheeks. Nate squeezed her shoulder, their footsteps ringing as they climbed the metal stairs.

His eyes found Nora as they crossed the metal walkway. An orderly queue had formed behind her as she was collecting something up ahead.

Nora handed him a sealed bag and another for El. He eyed it, noting the '111' matching the jumpsuits some staff were wearing.

"What, do they no' come in a braw purple or maybe fluorescent green?"

El snorted at that, a wry smile curling her lips, and Nate's heart lifted a little. She was okay.

"Just follow the doctor here. He'll show you where to go," one of the scientists instructed.

"Lead the way, doc."

As Nora chatted with the doctor, El pulled away, her steps a little firmer, her gaze still far away.

Nate was drawn to the sudden bite in the air, a shiver running through him as he followed. People chatted, residents to Vault staff. Everyone seemed as edgy as he felt. They were led to a larger room filled with 'decontamination pods,' he was told as he was led towards one.

His attention pulled back to El, her belongings dropping to her feet. She stepped in front of them as one of the staff members attempted to collect them.

"I'm sorry, miss, but you cannot take your—"

Without a word, El unveiled a lanyard from around her neck and fixed them with a stern eye.

"You're a Vault-Tec intern? Very well, but be assured, vault-tec will not be held accountable if anything were to be damaged or stolen."

El nodded, her jaw set, and Nate couldn't help a smirk. Stubborn wee devil. Nate stripped to his boxers and tugged on his Vault suit, his skin prickling.

"Could ye's no have turned on the heatin'? It's colder than a polar bear's arse in here!" Nate grumbled.

El was already suited in her's when he looked up again, leaning against her pod, shoulders slumped, a blank expression set over her feature—still not back to herself yet.

"Can you hold him?" Nora asked, pulling his thoughts. Shaun curled up against her chest.

"Of course, love," Nate scooped him up, letting Nora get herself situated. He walked over to El, her fingers brushing Shaun's cheek, a weak smile curling her lips.

"Ye gonna be alright in there? I know how you get in tight spaces."

She held up her backpack, patting it fondly. Of course, she was always packed for every occasion.

"Right then, guess we'll see ye soon," Nate tried, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Okay, I can take him," Nora's hand rested on his arm, and Nate reluctantly handed Shaun over and planted a kiss against her cheek.

Nate climbed into his pod, and with a hiss, the lid descended, his breath misting the glass. His eyes locked onto Nora's, her gaze locked on him as her own pod closed, and she bounced Shaun in her arms.

"Just try to relax," the doctor reassured.

Nate nodded, pressing his hand against the glass. "Time for a whole new life."

"Resident secure. Occupant vitals: Normal," a robotic voice filled his ears.

A rush of cold flooded his pod. Nate's pulse spiked, his next breath shuddering.

"Procedure complete. In 5... 4..."

With every beat of the countdown, his vision whitened. Frost intertwined his eyelashes with every blink—everything faded.

Nate blinks away the frost that clings to his eyelashes, stretching his jaw to loosen the remainder of his beard and whiskers. It was a cold that hung as heavy as iron chains. Every breath stung his chest like swallowing broken glass as violent coughs wreck through him.

"...Critical failure in Cryogenic Array. All vault residents must vacate immediately," The computerized voice echoed through the intercom, and a hiss filled his ears.

As the pod door lifts away, Nate's still-thawing limbs do nothing to prevent him from stumbling forward. His knees crack against the slick steel floor, a haze of mist following him. He didn't dare look up, unwilling to face the truth that the nightmare was real. But there was no escaping the memories that assaulted every fiber of his being: Nora's please, Shaun's cries as they tear him from his mother's embrace. Nate's own screams—lost in the deafening Gunshot that silenced Nora and continued to echo as Shaun's heartbreaking wails faded away—the face that mets him and the words that followed:

At least we still have the backup.

"That scar-faced bastard! Why did he have tae—"

"...Critical failure in Cryogenic Array. All vault residents must vacate immediately,"

"Oh, shut up!" Nate yelled as he snapped his head back. "Can ye no see I'm havin' a moment, ye pushy cow!"

Blissful silence filled the chamber once more, and Nate breathed a sigh of relief. As if another entity had taken control of his body, he stood to his full height and ambled forward. His steps were clumsy, and fog engulfed the room as he moved toward Nora's pod. The faint glint of gold caught his eye. Her wedding band shined through the condensation. His fingers trailed over the icy glass.

Nora, his best friend, the woman he pledged his entire life to. Her rosy cheeks were now dusted blue, fear still painted in her expression. Her arms were so painfully absent—Shaun. He's just a baby, and they tore him out of her arms. Nate's knees buckled some, jolting him forward, and he braced himself, breaths coming out in rasps, his lungs constricting, the very walls closing in. His eyes opened over his wedding ring, a matching piece—he'd be dammed if he was leaving her's behind.

"C'mon! C'mon! There has tae be a release!" Nate barked, desperation bleeding into his brogue as he stepped back to take in the pod, reaching for the lever at its side.

His breath held as Nora's pod opened to him. Slowly, reverently, he slipped the ring off her finger, ignoring the spiderwebbing of frosted blood that now decorated her jumpsuit. 

"I'll find who did this, and I'll get Shaun back...I promise," Nate's tremblings slipped Nora's wedding band above his own, and pulled the level to reseal his wife. The door hissed shut, and the frost formed on Nora's pod window. Nate's tears froze on his face, and he stumbled back, his own thawing limbs failing him as he hit the vault floor. He lay there for what felt like an eternity, before finally gathering enough strength to pull himself together.

"Elspeth," he whispered, crawling to his sister's pod. Her features still frozen, that bloody pip-pad clutched between her fingers. Nate clenched his fists and breathed before his shaky hands grip the lever release to El's cryopod, and he is met with an immediate sharp, jolting buzz that has him staggering back.

"Malfunction in Cryo Pod manual release override." A robotic female voice announces over the intercom.

"No-no-no! C'mon! I need tae open this damn thing!" Nate pulls the handle harder. Again, the error noise frays his nerves, not releasing. "Come on!" He presses a palm to the frost-covered glass, feeling the cold sting on his hand. "El!" Tears stream down his cheeks, warm against the cold fog surrounding him. "No. This can't-" His forehead rests against the pod. He closes his eyes tightly and sobs. “Ye cannae do this! I just need tae get El!"

His mind falls back to the terminal those scientist-looking folks were working on when they were after Shaun, how they opened Nora's pod. Nate spins on his heels and sprints forward, almost pummeling into the console as he slides to a halt.

"Right, c'mon. Ye can do this, it's just a computer," Nate squints at the screen with a shaky breath,  gingers still stiff from his suspended animation, rattling the keys, jumping through the entries as quickly as his frozen digits allow.

*************** Welcome to ROBCO Industries (TM) Termlink ***************

Thank you for choosing Vault-Tec!

>Cryogenic Array: Offline. Premature termination resulting in system failure. Isolated manual and remote overrides detected. Controls disabled.

>Life Support: Offline. Premature termination resulting in system failure. Isolated manual and remote overrides detected. Controls disabled.

Pod Occupant Status

POD C1: Miss Watt

>Occupant status: Deceased. Cause of Death: Asphyxiation due to Life Support failure.

*****************************************************************************

It takes several moments for him to comprehend the words laid bare.

Every occupant record painted the same picture: Cause of Death: Asphyxiation.

"No," Nate sobbed, his fist slamming into the console. "No, she can't be, she can't—Elspeth!...” 

Nate collapses, his knees slamming on the steel, fingers clawing at the frost-covered ground, and a scream rips through him, a blood-curdling wail that echoes out in the empty chamber. Every cell in his body is alight, a sickening, bitter cold fire. His shoulders shake violently, and he balls his fists, pounding them to the floor until his knuckles are raw. He barely feels the biting pain as the fight seeps away, leaving him drained, tears frozen on his cheeks.

Nate doesn't move for a long moment—left alone with his thoughts and the steady Drip. Drip. Drip. of frost melting. His little sister is dead. They're both gone. It would be easy to submit to his grief, crumple over, and lose himself in the pain—but they have his son. He has to find Shaun, even if all he has left is a warped image of a man who ruined his world. A scar-faced bastard whom Nate committed to memory. His fingers curl around the chain of his dog tags, fidgeting the wedding bands between bloodied knuckles, the cold metal grounding him, and as Nate grits his teeth, steeling his heart, and sets his jaw, he stands.

A silent vow plays on his lips: For Shaun. For Nora. And for El. He would rain fire upon whoever took them from him, even if it meant tearing whatever world awaited him apart, one bullet at a time.

He vows it as he looks upon El's face. Russet frost-bitten curls drape across her forehead. A picture so peaceful she may as well be sleeping.

He vows it as his lips graze Nora's cheek before resealing the pod, committing his love's image to memory.

He vows it as his fingers trace Shaun's name, etched in ink within the tan line of his wedding band.

There had to be someone around, Vault Tec staff, maybe someone hid, someone survived. Anyone. Nate forced himself to move, and limped towards the exit. It was slow going, his muscles burning, and his joints ache.

"Hello?! Anyone?!" He stumbled through the door, retracing the steps they'd taken minutes before. Water dripped. Rusted metal. It made no sense. "Am I the only one left?”

Nate caught himself on the wall, the burning in his lungs catching his breath—the coughing that wrecked his body had him holding his chest like it was the only way to keep the air from escaping all together.

‘Just breath Nattie.’

"Oh God, Elspeth," he choked back a sob, falling against the wall, the metal cold on his face. "I can't—I cant--" He coughed again, the spasms sending him to his knees. He'd failed everyone, Nora, Elspeth, Shaun, everyone. Maybe if they'd stayed, got in the car and drove—maye, just maybe they'd have found somewhere safe, somewhere better than here.

He didn't know how long he sat there, the ringing in his ears so loud, his tears so thick he couldn't even see anymore. It took everything he had to pull himself up, and even longer to realize the door they'd passed through was sealed shut. Forcing him another way.

Movement caught in the corner of his eye, and Nate grabbed for the security baton, slowing pacing through the corridor. "Hello?!" He yelled, his voice echoing off the walls, bouncing back—something—a shadow, a rustle—moved, and Nate froze.

He had to dreaming, maybe the freeze box messed up his mind. A cockroach, bigger than a rat scuttled across the damp floor, it's wings pulsing as it seemed to size him up with equal suspicion. Nate backed away, his head pounding, his eyes darting between the insect and the door it was blocking.

"Why'd it have tae be giant beasties? Why couldnae it be something cute like a wee fluffy bunny rabbit?" Nate mutters, his brogue thickening. "Ye picked the wrong day tae piss me aff," he leveled his baton, and charged, his heart racing.

It was over fast, the bug smashed under his heel, a pained chirp the last sound it made. Nate shook the big entrails off his boot and pressed forward into the generator room. The bloody things hissed and zapped as he passed, one more giant roach lay dead, the electricity dancing around it, the smell of cooked meat met his nose.

His stomach churned, and he took a second to steady himself. No time for a weak stomach, not when survival was at stake. Two more met their end, and his eyes fell on a skeleton, a tattered Vault Tec jumpsuit still clinging to the bones. "How is this possible?"

The door to his left hissed open, two more roaches charging through, their mandibles clicking, their wings buzzing. Nate swung wildly, the baton denting the first, sending it reeling. The second, he caught with his hand, squeezing it's guts out until it stopped squirming.

"Still not cute," he muttered, catching his breath, his eyes searching. He had to keep moving, had to find a way out, find Shaun.

The office he came to next was met with a smile, a handgun, ammo, some smokes—no lighter. He loaded the gun and looted anything of use, but the next door was sealed. "This room looks important. El told me their doors seal up in emergencies... Only terminals can open them."

His eyes squinted over the terminal. 'welcome Overseer.' meeting his gaze. "Emergency exit, I guess that's what I'm after. Here goes nothin'."

Click. Clack. Click.

The door hissed open, and Nate stepped through, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "Come on then ye overgrown bugs, I'm ready for ye!" He cried, his fingers tight on the trigger, his heart pounding. Despite his stress. Despite this whole damm shit show. He made every shot.

His reward, was a sealed Vault door and more skeletons. One had a pip-boy, conveniently by the door controls. Nate strapped it on, relieved that someone seemed to work as intended as the device booted up, and after some trial and error, he finally managed to figure out how to activate the door open sequence.

Alarms blared and pistons hissed, Nate busied himself with looting the lockers and grabbing the handgun ammo he found lying around. When the Vault door finally rolled to a stop, he crossed the bridge and found himself standing in the lift back to the surface. "Welcome Home." disappearing as he was hoisted out of sight.

The earth above him split open, blinding light pouring down, Nate shielded his eyes and steadied himself. He was alive. That was what mattered now.

He took a moment to breathe, to process, his fingers finding Nora's ring still on his finger, his jaw set, his eyes blinking back the tears.

As the Sole Survivor of Vault 111, he has nothing left to lose and everything to fight for.

War Never Changes, and Nate was ready to wage it.

Elspeth Rae and Nathanial Alasdair Watt

#fallout 4 #fallout fanfic #fallout #fo4 #sim settlements 2 #SS2 #fallout maccready