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girl-named-matty · 7 months

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Why I don't like Solomon Sallow

(I worked this out on a google docs first and that has some screenshots i couldn't fit into here so after this post imma post some screenshots of the document) SO HI EVERYONE! You'll probably remember what I posted yesterday about dissecting the scene where you first go to Feldcroft in order to find out just a few things about Solomon upfront, so here it is! Buckle up because it is a lot.

Why I dislike Solomon Sallow, by me. 💕 Based on the scene where you first arrive in Feldcroft to visit Anne with Sebastian.

So I’ve just finished writing this scene for my fanfiction and going over the dialogue so carefully has made me realize just how much from this scene only we can see why Solomon was just a horrible person in general–if it wasn’t already obvious by now. I’ve been wanting to dissect scenes from the game for quite a while now and I think this presents a perfect opportunity to do it!

First, we’re going to start out when MC first arrives in Feldcroft and Sebastian is standing up on a ‘watch-tower’ to keep an eye on things since Feldcroft hasn’t been safe with all the goblins around. And then he states this:

Now, the goblins being around Rookwood castle isn’t Solomon’s fault. But being a resident of Feldcroft and being an ex-Auror, one would assume that he’d at least check it out, correct? Nope. Because Sebastian goes on to say this as well:

Now at the time, everyone thinks that Anne has been cursed by Goblins and not Rookwood, even Solomon does. But even with Solomon thinking the goblins had cursed Anne, he refuses to confront them even though we know he could since two fifteen-year-olds (Sebastian and MC) could easily defend themselves against said goblins.

And this leads us into our second segment.

We are now at the Sallow residence in Feldcroft and Sebastian walks in first, going to surprise Anne. Everything is happy and Anne is extremely excited to see Sebastian as shown in this picture:

Sebastian then pulls out a Shrivelfig, something he picked up in Hogsmeade for Anne.

Now from that screenshot alone, we can’t really tell if Anne just really likes shrivelfigs or if she thought it could be the cure–but from what happens next I can safely assume she may have thought it was some form of cure.

Because as shown right here–SOLOMON JUST YOINKS IT OUT OF SEBASTIAN’S HAND.

Solomon doesn’t give Anne and Sebastian even a moment to have a proper reunion, he doesn’t say hello to Sebastian, or greet MC, he doesn’t wait until MC is out of the house to have a conversation with Sebastian like a civil person would if a guest were around. In fact, he doesn’t do anything civilly, he starts an argument with Sebastian RIGHT there and then over a shrivelfig!

He looks at Sebastian and tells him that Shrivelfigs cannot reverse the curse. But we have no background to if they’ve ever even tried to do something with a shrivelfig to even help ease Anne’s pain. Since Hogwarts Legacy came out, the wiki for shrivelfigs has stated that they cannot reverse curses but it does have “medicinal properties' which could’ve at least perhaps eased Anne’s pain for even just a bit.

But what is even worse is that when he says “Nothing can” he looks DIRECTLY AT ANNE!

Why would he look directly at Anne while saying nothing can reverse the curse she has? Probably because he wants her to believe that she cannot be cured. He’s tired of trying to find one and so if Anne isn’t complaining about not having a cure, he doesn’t have to hear about it from anyone other than Sebastian. I’ve had conversations with friends about this and have a few theories about this situation but that’s for a different post. Then Solomon proceeds to destroy the Shrivelfig right in front of Sebastian and Anne.

Now, this is possibly a bit of a stretch but Sebastian got that for Anne and not Solomon so he’s basically just destroying a gift that Sebastian took the time to get for her right in front of the both of them which is a pretty crappy move in my opinion.

Then he turns to leave, yet again not even taking the time to say hello to Sebastian or MC and of course Sebastian, feeling like he needs to defend himself, says that they haven’t tried everything–which is technically correct. But then of course, instead of Solomon civilly telling Sebastian that there is no cure–It turns into another shouting match.

He gets up in Sebastian’s face and shouts at him, right in front of Anne and MC. Wow Solomon! I wonder why your nephew hates you.

Yes I understand that Sebastian is a stubborn boy but at this point in time, he’s a fifteen-year-old boy who is desperate to cure his twin sister! Before this, all he had was Anne and Ominis because his parents were dead and his uncle truly never cared. Let’s say MC had never come into the mix and Anne died, all he would have was Ominis. This is an act of Sebastian trying to preserve the last of the people who love him.

And then, unfortunately, the effects of the curse start to pain Anne.

The first thing they do is look over but instead of Solomon immediately going to Anne’s aid, he has to look at Sebastian and blame him for Anne’s pain.

Then he goes over to Anne to aid her and Sebastian tries to apologize for the argument that Solomon started.

Then instead of letting Sebastian apologize, Solomon tells Sebastian to leave.

He doesn’t even give Sebastian a chance. He’s fed up and doesn’t even want his nephew around. My whole guess is that he’s truly never wanted Sebastian around and this was all just an excuse. This leads us into our third segment. Sebastian storms out of the house and tells MC that he needs a moment alone if they are alright with it. Then MC will go talk to Solomon and Anne and for this, we’re going to speak to Solomon first. You go up and you greet Solomon, everything seems normal. Solomon apologizes for Sebastian’s behavior claiming “he doesn’t know when to stop” which is true in some cases.

When he says this, this is not a fact, and we have to keep that in mind. When he says nothing can be done for her–that’s his opinion because HE doesn’t think anything can be done for her. Which opinions are okay to have, but using your opinions to discourage others is usually not the way you want to use them.

Now after this, MC can say two different things. If you pick the option “Surely there’s something” your MC will say “It could be that you’ve not yet discovered a cure.” so in turn, slightly disagreeing with Solomon’s statement that nothing can be done but not downright disagreeing with him out loud.

But again, instead of Solomon holding a civil conversation, he starts to accuse MC of thinking they know more than the healers at St. Mungo's.

Now did MC ever claim to know better than the trained healers? NO! So why is he assuming this? It’s because he’s incapable of having a civil conversation regarding the curse if anyone disagrees with him in the slightest. We see this several more times throughout the game!

After this, your MC will say “Perhaps the healers don't know everything, sir.” which is in turn–correct because as skilled as they are, no one knows everything. And keep in mind that MC is calling Solomon “sir” being respectful while Solomon is not, he is shouting and spouting off. MC then follows up with “Sebastian is single-mindedly focused on finding a way to help his sister. If there is a cure, he will find it.” Then Solomon responds with this.

Yet again going back to the fact that he could easily confront the goblins but he never does. You have a dialogue choice here but both of them really just lead back to this statement.

He claims giving Anne hope is cruel because he doesn’t want her to have hope that she can be cured but in my opinion—not giving her hope is just as cruel! Imagine telling your niece, the child you are supposed to be raising, that there is nothing that could possibly cure her and so she is stuck feeling immense pain for the rest of her possibly short life even when there are still chances of finding a cure! I’m not sure about anyone else, but that sounds pretty cruel to me. I can see why you’d want to keep her comfortable but its still keeping her comfortable for her impending death when there’s still a chance she can be cured.

Then, as if he’s been acting like a good guardian, Solomon plays this card.

He says he knows what's best for both of the twins–which is clearly not true seeing how he treats Sebastian. Then he goes to say “my stubborn brother’s children” which always makes me think that Solomon had something against his brother–a rivalry possibly–that led them into fighting a lot and so Solomon takes his anger for his late brother out onto his brother's children. Which, keep in mind, is never okay.

Sebastian is a target of Solomon’s constant attacks because Sebastian acts like his dad. And that’s just the nature of a young boy to act like their father. Also, to Solomon, are you sure your brother was the stubborn one here…?

Solomon follows up with this and then this.

THIS ^^ is probably the only sensible thing he says during the entire game. Yes, Sebastian doesn’t know when to stop sometimes but I wonder why he doesn’t stop. It’s because he’s constantly being verbally attacked and Anne is the LAST bit of family he has that actually loves him! Of course he isn’t going to stop–he’s trying to save the life of his twin sister!

Our fourth segment leads us into our conversation with Anne–which gives us more perspective since we get all three perspectives of the Sallows who were involved in this.

MC enters the house and apologizes for earlier and Anne–being the sweet girl she is, reassures MC that it is not their fault for the pain she has.

It’s clear she’s struggling but she always makes sure to make it clear that it is not anyone’s fault when her pain comes and goes. Meaning Solomon was wrong by blaming Sebastian for Anne’s pain during the argument.

MC and Anne go on to talk about Anne being at Hogwarts and how she misses it but she says she wouldn’t mind being in Feldcroft all the time if it weren’t so dreary. That meaning, the goblin attacks and of course, her uncle and brother fighting all the time.

She says this but the way she words it makes me think a few things. She mentions that Solomon is fighting with Sebastian whenever he’s home. Which this could be a stretch but that makes me believe that Solomon starts the majority of the arguments that they are in. As seen earlier, Solomon started this one as well instead of letting the scene play out before he jumped in. Not only does Solomon starting arguments affect Sebastian, it affects Anne too!

MC will then say “Sebastian mentioned something about your uncle being an ex-Auror but refusing to go after Ranrok’s Loyalists'' and while I’m not an uncle, I am an aunt and if someone cursed my niece especially while she was in my care–I’d be burning down the goblin encampment while demanding answers. Then MC says “I must say, I wasn’t prepared for him to be as angry as he was''

Then Anne goes to defend her uncle, which is understandable.

BUUUUUT then we get into Anne now thinking she cannot be cured, saying that she can feel it.

Now I am not about to argue with the victim of the curse for saying she doesn’t think she can be cured–after all, she is the one suffering. But from what we saw with Solomon looking directly at Anne while saying “nothing can” referring to nothing can cure her, how much of her disbelief about her being able to be cured is actually coming from Solomon that she has just accepted and isn’t actually her own belief?

After that, you finish up your conversation with Anne and go to find Sebastian which leads us into our fifth and final segment.

Now, Sebastian does the same thing Solomon does and apologizes to MC for the way he acted–which means they are sort of the two sides to the same coin when it comes to how others perceive them. Both feel like they need to apologize for something that the other has done–even when only one of them is actually in the wrong. You have two options for dialogue here. You can either choose “He was out of line” which will lead you into saying “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting him to be so angry.” or you can chose “He’s trying to do what’s right” which I honestly have no idea what that option will lead you to say because I’ve never chosen it and I went through nine different playthroughs I found on YouTube and nobody chose that option so I assume people agree that he was out of line. (If anyone could tell me what MC says if you chose the option “He’s trying to do what’s right”, that’d be lovely)

SO if you chose “He was out of line” which leads to you saying the part that you weren’t expecting him to be so angry, Sebastian will reply "He's always angry. He's been angry since my parents died." and "After Anne was hurt, he only grew worse. It's as though he blames me somehow. Always calling me 'my father's son' as if its an insult." (I apologize for the lack of screenshots here, I wrote this out on a google docs sheet before this and tumblr only allows me to have 30 pictures in post so screenshots of the doc are coming soon!) This brings us back to what I said earlier about Solomon deflecting his angry feelings from his late brother onto the twins and he most likely targets Sebastian the most because Sebastian acts the most like his father. Sebastian will go on to say “I’m the one trying to help her. He’s simply given up.” to which MC will reply, “Both Anne and your uncle seem to be genuinely convinced that nothing more can be done for her.”

To that, Sebastian replies that he refuses to believe that, that Anne’s pain is more than physical, that it’s changed her entirely, and that he misses her and is going to get his sister back.

After that you’ll go and explore the plateau that Anne was cursed on yada yada and you’ll get a bit of background on that.

So–what's the conclusion of all of this?

Solomon is just a horrible person.

He immediately starts an argument with Sebastian in front of Anne and MC over a shrivelfig, no less. And I don’t know about you but it's always so awkward when a friend gets yelled at by their parents/guardian and it's pretty embarrassing when it happens to you and you're the one being shouted at.

He’s either subconsciously or consciously trying to convince Anne that she cannot be cured by telling her “Nothing can” and by always screaming at Sebastian that nothing can cure her. When he shouts, it's scary, so obviously Anne isn’t going to want to speak up for herself and get screamed at.

He verbally abuses Sebastian–and probably Anne in the past as well. Now I’ve seen theories that there is possible physical abuse which I have also had theories about but it’s never been proven so I’m not gonna accuse him of such a crime BUT there is obvious evidence that he has no problem verbally abusing Sebastian at all by screaming, shouting and yada yada.

He’s taking his anger that he has for his late brother out on Sebastian and Anne, which is never okay. Children are never responsible for the sins of the father–and we don’t even know if their father did do anything wrong! From how Solomon acts, he could’ve totally been in the wrong for whatever arguments they had. And Sebastian is a target because he acts the most like his father.

And although this isn’t in this scene, Solomon has no problem attacking two 15/16-year-olds (who are still legally children) in the catacomb. So the conclusion is that Solomon Sallow is not a good person and he has no problem showing it. And that you can see so much just from this one scene that probably lasts only a few minutes.

I rest my case.

Taglist: @boomingsmile @biographyofanadult @kit-kair @operation-pez @morelikeravenbore @findingtruenorth23 @follesexual @epicsweetness712 @mcyt-trash-can @sallowgauntsupremacy @kukukha-sanctuary

#told y'all it was long #and I have more to say abt this guy too lol #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hl #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #mc #Anne Sallow #Solomon sallow #Hogwarts legacy theories #Hogwarts Legacy theory #Solomon Sallow slander club #Im sorry char but it had to be done #if anyone has anything to say please voice it in the comments!#I love hearing feedback!

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beanghostprincess · 6 months

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"Jealousy and other pathetic feelings"

(Zolu/Sanuso fanfic)

Luffy’s like the sun. So bright and hot that it burns if you approach him enough. Everybody wants to stare at him, but only Zoro is brave enough to get blinded and melt in his rays. Usopp, on the other hand, is so domestic and fragile Sanji fears he might slip in between his fingers like sand. It’s delicate. Both things are. - Zoro and Sanji pining over their boyfriends and moping around with jealousy because Luffy and Usopp are acting closer than usual.

This is a silly fluffy prompt that @leiatroublecat gave me and I turned it into a bittersweet, character analysis, angsty fic because I am a menace to society! That being said, I hope you all enjoy it!! <3

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lesbienyu · 2 months

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the amount of misinformation about autism and it being "trendy" for ppl to self-DX has made existing so weird bc you can like. Tell when ppl don't know autistic people and are going off blatant misinformation. (before you argue me about this, please look in the tags or at tiktok, there's so much misinfo leading ppl to believe they're on the spectrum)

being GNC, I have ppl bring up the fact transgender people have higher rates of autism. I'm not autistic. nor do I identify as trans (tho I did at one point). it's weird they bring this up, and it's usually after I say "well, haha, I don't care how I look." then it's oh, you don't get the social norms? you don't understand it? I do. I just think they're stupid and not my problem. I say I don't like how dry my legs get if I shave them, and it's "oh, sensory issues?" nope! I do not have a reason for not shaving other than the fact I don't care to. it's like they're trying to explain it away by saying it's just autism when like. number one, plenty of autistic women are aware social norms like shaving and choose or choose not to follow them. number two, choosing not to follow them doesn't mean I'm unaware of them. it makes me think they don't respect autistic women or GNC women, and god forbid they meet someone who's both.

another thing is I am diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I have a TBI, and probably fried my brain with drugs back when I was in active addiction. all of these things are neutral facts. but I'll get confused about smth and ppl will ask if I've been screened for autism. my brain damage and bipolar symptoms look nothing remotely like autism to anyone who knows what a single one of those three looks like, even vaguely. and I'll say "no, I just have brain damage," and the response is always "oh, don't be so mean to yourself!" when I genuinely have brain damage. what's so mean about calling brain damage what it is?

and the thing that gets me w this is that these people always mock autistic people before they find out they're autistic. while incorrectly self-diagnosing as autistic based off sensationalized misinformation. it'd be unbelievably awful to have the same people who bully you for a condition then turn around and claim to have it.

#I do want feedback from autistic ppl btw like lmk your thoughts if you agree or disagree #there's totally a munchausen by internet thing happening rn #and I'm not debating ALL self-DX but y'all know what I mean w the misinfo #Like the 'having a song stuck in your head means you're on the spectrum's type shit #am also going off what autistic family and friends have said but it's a self-selecting group there

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sandradoodles · 2 years

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~Miraculous cuties~

To celebrate 3000 followers(!!!), I decided to revisit my first Adrienette fanart and draw now something that is closer to what I really wanted to be drawing then. 💗 Original under the cut!

Yeah, the difference is a bit... striking. Originally posted this first one on April 29th of this year, so there’s just a few months between these two pictures.

It is genuinely amazing how much difference it makes to be drawing (nearly) every day, to get back to using an art program that I am really familiar with, to have more experience drawing these characters specifically, and to have received so much kind feedback from other fans and artists. LOOK EVERYONE, I’M NOT SCARED OF HANDS ANYMORE.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #sandra draws #art progress #y'all are the best!!#thank you everyone for the follows and likes and reblogs and comments #the feedback is so delightful and motivating 💗💗#fun fact I have no idea what this picture actually looks like #because I realized far too late that my blue light filter was on while I was drawing #it's fine 😂

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iolypse · 1 year

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primarily english speaking qsmp members as D&D characters because I can't help but fuse both of my current fixations together

Philza — species for this one was tricky, class and subclass a little harder, but I ultimately decided on aasimar ranger (horizon walker). kept trying to pick between aasimar and air genasi, almost put air genasi because I felt like qfoolish fit aasimar better, but they can both be aasimar it's fine. by the time I finish writing this, foolish might not even be an aasimar anymore, im still thinking. regardless, qphil has always been a bit of a tactician and a bowman, hasnt he? classic traits of a ranger. from there, it felt like horizon walker was the only subclass that fit. protecting from otherworldly threats, preserving life and other planes. yeppp sounds like this paranoid motherfucker right here.

BadBoyHalo — now that's a tiefling if I've ever seen one. class is a little more complicated. I've deliberated between paladin and warlock before eventually settling on paladin, making him a tiefling paladin (ancients). I don't have to explain the tiefling part (have you seen his everything?), but the paladin part could use it. we're yet to really see qbad make any real deals with any powerful forces, so that took out the warlock part for me. I wanted to make sure he had at least a little bit of magic though (c'mon), so I immediately went to paladin, and it worked out. he's a dedicated man! he'll make a promise and he'll fuckin stick to it. I debated between devotion and ancients after that, but devotion tends to have a more lawful side, which ended with me choosing ancients. they fight the darkness because they love life, plain and simple, and you're dull if you can't see how much this dude loves life.

FitMC — alright, I'm sorry, I had to do it, but this is a human fighter (rune knight) right here. I simply couldnt see him as anything other than human, and rogue and artificer didn't fit since there's other characters that fit those classes so much better, so fighter it was. still, qfit has a lot of cool gadgets and bits and bobs, and I wanted to recognize that in this adaptation of him, so I decided to show that through the rune knight subclass. rune knight fighters can do a lot of cool shit with their runes, enhancing pretty much anything they put their mind to. probably some shit he found scrawled in the horrors of 2b2t and decided to study.

Foolish — this one was hard! the fuck is this guy? I instinctively thought aasimar, but I already made qphil an aasimar, so I played around with different types of genasi and then goliaths, even minotaurs just trying to find something that fit the semi-inhuman sorta innately magical, physically strong being vibes. I think aasimar fit best, so then it was a matter of class. hes a builder! he builds shit. that's what qfoolish does. but he is NOT a mechanic and therefore not an artificer, not musical enough to be a bard, not angry enough to be a barbarian, so what the fuck is he? took a LOT of fucking around, but eventually I remembered the college of creation exists, and I felt it fit well enough, making him an aasimar bard (creation). he draws his power from his builds— he inspires with sight, not song. it's a unique take on a bard, but I've seen some awesome chef bards, so I think this works just fine. he's an architect bard.

Slimecicle — this one was FUN. 100% that's a fucking plasmoid. he's a goopy guy! then I experimented with different bard and rogue classes, thought maybe warlock for his deal with demon rubius, and then decided i couldn't disrespect the juanaflippa song and said fuck it, he can be a bard. again in correlation with the song, I went with valor, since he's telling her great story through the lyrics, keeping her memory alive with it. I DID consider spirits, however, since he actually managed to bring juanaflippa back, however briefly. still, I felt valor fit the bill just a little better. he's a plasmoid bard (valor).

JaidenAnimations — ohhh this one took some thought. I wanted her to be fairly humanoid while still having some subtle unusual traits, and elf was considered but it felt too regal. I almost considered kenku for how she tends to repeat what other people say, but it wasn't right. thought I'd try something a little strange, and I ended up with shifter! specifically wildhunt. class was just as difficult— she wasnt going to be any primarily martial classes, so that cut out a bunch, and she's not really faithful or super devoted, so that took out paladin, warlock, and cleric, and eventually I narrowed it down to sorcerer, picking aberrant mind for their mystery and influence on others. being the only woman in an island full of gay twinks is tough, man. she's a shifter sorcerer (aberrant mind).

Wilbur — half-elf bard (eloquence). this one came pretty quick to me, actually. the bard part is more than obvious, subclass picked for the number of times qwilbur's casually convinced other people to just go with the bit. he's a man of words, and he weaves them well. he can be damn persuasive, mixing in genuine arguments with small white lies, all while playing your heart strings just right. half-elf is almost entirely vibes honestly— human was too bland, elf too spicy, so we met in the middle.

DanTDM — this dude's been gone since the very fucking beginning pretty much. I almost want to make him a rogue just for that, but man, he's the diamond minecart, alright? I grew up watching him. it'd be a disservice not to make him an artificer. from there, alchemist best suited the vibes, since he never really did much of anything machinery-related. he is a human artificer (alchemist).

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starflungwaddledee · 3 months

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deleted my little melt-down from yesterday. left it up a little longer than planned because i wanted to make sure folks got replies!

thank you so much to everyone who was very nice and encouraging to me about it and also to the person who sent me a delightful ask/prompt/suggestion that i would love to draw something to; if i can just get the confidence up

thank u 💖🙏

#i have Anxiety about folks thinking i ignored them or didn't appreciate their engagements so it's just important to me that you know--#- that i loved everyone's comments and feedback and thoughts. it meant a lot to me even though i was being so hectic lmao #if you commented i'm very grateful and i *did* reply to you. if you didn't see my response you can reach out and i can dm you the message.#but mostly i was just being simultaneously grateful and a nervous wreck about Feeling Anything. you know how it is #nothing fancy. anyway. i'm a little sleep deprived i think... thank y'all!!

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mermaidsirennikita · 3 months

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The dichotomy between what's popular according to booktok (from what I've see) from the most blandest books imaginable to the most taboo erotica you can think of is kinda wild.

I think that what gets me with taboo books recommended by BookTok is that they're usually very poorly written. And if the writing is poor, you're not really getting the full "shock" value.

Like, when you read Sierra Simone's Thornchapel series, the scenes read as really intense because Sierra is an excellent writer. In contrast, a book like Hooked (that one dark romance~ modern Captain Hook book, a concept I was very open to and wanted to like, for the record) is very badly written. There's taboo content and a horrible hero, but like... It just reads juvenile.

I'm about 65% through A Kiss at Midnight by Anne Stuart, a historical romance that is QUITE dark, but the writing is frankly fabulous. Because Stuart can write, the darkness (which is not like, the corny "oh he's so bad he's in a motorcycle gang" torture sequence stuff--it's TRULY intense and pretty accurate for the era) is balanced out by emotional progression and honestly? A very dry, at times dark humor. If a lesser writer handled this plotline, it would just seem like shock factor after shock factor layered on just to get people talking. Very 2edgy4me.

And I'm gonna be really real here. Some fanfic authors are made to transition to actual published books. I think Ali Hazelwood writes a really solid contemporary romance. I really enjoyed You, Again by Kate Goldbeck, and that's based on a fic I actually read. The Hurricane Wars works as a book. (And mind you, let's not take away from the work the editors and authors did to rework fics into actual books here.)

Some fic authors are meant to stay fic authors and to excel at that. I personally think that one of the reasons why we have so many blaaand romance novels right now is that a) some of them are written by less-equipped fic authors trying to write real books and b) some of the authors have read less actual books than they have fics.

There are some tensely plotted, exciting fics out there. But personally? I think the standout nature of those fics--fics like Manacled, which... I think.... is not.... for me. However, bland it is not lol--makes people think that is the NORM for fic, when it's not. The norm for fic, and what I think a lot of more casual fic consumers and people who read more fic than they do books (compared to a lot of romance readers who turn to fic to supplement their reading habits) is very plotless slice of life stuff.

And that's not meant to be derogatory. It works, especially when you're writing about characters a lot of people know and love and are PROGRAMMED to know and love. Even if it's AU and they're basically other people, if you're writing a modern, sedate romcom about Katniss and Peeta and she mentions going to archery classes and Peeta being a baker, people are like aawwwww and they enjoy the nicely written scenes that are just people being people.

That.... ultimately creates a bland story when you're writing a book about original characters nobody has a preexisting investment in.

#romance novel blogging #lol idk sometimes i feel like fic gets this sweeping pass bc we're not supposed to critique the work #and not critiquing the work is fine i'm not here to tell y'all a thing someone is doing for free is bad when they don't want feedback #BUT... i think it's fair to critique the way fic has been uplifted and held on this pedestal compared to books #and EQUATED to books #which is my biggest complaint always #it's not better or worse it's different and if you think you can transition from fics to books #without reworking your products and your style #and frankly often putting a lot more work in #... idk man that's just so low effort and i personally think that's one reason why we see subpar books where nothing happens #they've always existed some people just do that lol but some of it i read and i'm like #this is like someone wrote a review 200k word fic about absolutely nothing changed the names and bit publish #(and another thing--one way you CAN tell there is a different type of work being done with fic is the wordcount dif #the standard for say a historical romance #which is often given more room traditionally in terms of word count than a contemporary romance #is 100k words #contemporaries often have landed between 80k-100k #then you have these 150k contemporaries and they're bloated as hell #but that wordcount is not unusual for fics #and fics are nORMALLY if edited at all being edited by amateur beta readers who do not professionally edit work #and often only look for typos or scene/character issues versus things like overarching plot and structural weakness #ADDITIONALLY! when you read a fic you're usually reading someone writing in real time #whereas if you are reading a well-done actual book you're reading someone's like... billionth draft that's been worked over by #multiple eyes. and i include indie in this bc the really good indie books have usually been professionally edited #on top of critique partners proofers etc)#ANYWAY. MY RANT.

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abd-illustrates · 1 year

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I love the skin tones you did for Cyno and Tighnari in your recent post! The art is amazing in general but I really appreciated that in particular so I wanted to throw some love your way

ah thank you so much dude! I'm really glad to hear it! 💖

#outside of that one intense ask the other day and some unsavory comments of YT those pieces have been getting a lot of really nice feedback #and i really appreciate y'alls input on that front! 💖#daily dork

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matbaynton · 1 year

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#reposting bc i spelled biteable wrong 🤡#this is important research and something i've been thinking about i need y'alls feedback #mat baynton #mathew baynton #yeah i'm gonna tag all of them too this is gonna be a doozy but i need to know #thomas thorne #chris pitt goddard #jamie winton #ariel conroy #sam pinkett #william agar #chief elder choop #voltari #bill shakespeare #would have also included:#christopher payne #joe starling #mick (bbc ghosts)

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mechsbrackets · 1 year

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I've finished looking through the submissions for the Best Mechanisms Quote/Line bracket! 40 submissions gave us 169 different quotes! So many! I have the general quote and number of nominations together, but I have yet to go through and double check exact wording and punctuation for most of them, so no full list tonight sadly. I can give the top 3 though:

"Fuck you, and fuck your train!" 16 nominations

"Fuck the ship!" / "I do." / "Ew!" 13

"But any window with a hammer is also an emergency exit." 9

Thank you to everyone who's submitted nominations already! Everyone else, there's still 5 days to submit nominations, so make sure you do so before the deadline!

#the mechanisms #the mechs #ik i was debating moving it but the deadline is gonna stay next Monday #also i'm debating if i should keep the 'ew' or not in 'fuck the ship'#bc the 'Ew!' is v funny #but just 'Fuck the ship' / 'I do' has IMMACULATE vibes #i'll probably decide based on feedback on this post plus the number of people who included the 'ew' in their nominations #it's about even for nominations so i'm asking y'all #also!#fourth most nominated quote is 'I was serving in the fourty-second starborne divison while Time was still being mortal like a wanker'#i'm keeping wanker bc it's funnier than idiot #i have gotten a couple of submissions with idiot tho #as for sources: there's 2 quotes from the fictions #2 live that i have to double check the exact performance they're from #2 from Lashings 3 from TBI Debut 4 from Gender Rebels 4 from Pitt Rivers 7 from Revenge of Spaceport Mahon #6 from Frankenstein #13 from DTTM bc y'all are DETERMINED to make me cry #16 from TTBT 10 from TTBT2 #19 from OUATIS #20 from UDAD #25 from HNOC #and 26 from TBI!

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druidgroves · 3 months

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Chapter 01: Maybe I'll Say Maybe

Fandom: Fallout 4 Words: 6,208 Characters: Georgia Tate (Canon Divergent Sole Survivor), Nate Notes: Soooo I decided to rewrite the first chapter (01/20/2024) since it was originally written years before I started BLP proper. I'll still keep the old one linked somewhere for posterity, but going forward the story will start referencing more things from Georgia's life pre-war. Please let me know what you think! read on ao3 / read on tumblr

August 28th, 2075

Georgia Walker checks her watch for the ninth time in as many minutes.

It’s been over an hour, she thinks not for the first time, where the hell are you?

Beside her, sitting at one of the desks that didn’t even reach her knees, is Henry Tate, number twenty-three in her classroom. Henry had been working on a coloring book she’d slipped him while she had dealt with a truly inane series of phone calls (call home. Reach housekeeper? Learn Mrs. Tate is at the salon. Wait. Answer call from housekeeper, get details on pick-up. Uncle arriving ???). He didn’t seem worried about staying later than the other kids.

Maybe Georgia should talk with his first grade teacher, see if this was a pattern she should expect…

“Let me guess: alien giraffe?” she asks when he sets down his crayon.

“No,” he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world and to him, it is. “He’s a sick giraffe. He’s green.”

Georgia smiles a little to herself and gently smacks her forehead. “Psht, of course he’s sick, silly me. What’s his outlook, doc?”

Henry got that same look on his face that he and the other kids who still needed extra help with their four-letter words shared. Still, she’d read it was good to use an expanded vocabulary with kids. Made them more curious.

She laughs. “Is he gonna get better?”

“I dunno. I don’t think he can get better by himself,” he says.

“Well, maybe you can color him a friend to help him out,” Georgia says as she stands up from her chair and checks her watch for the tenth time. She sighs and puts on a cheery voice, “Hey, kiddo, sit tight, I’m gonna try to give Mom another call, alright? Give me juuust a second and I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, Miss Georgia,” Henry says, barely paying attention to her now as he attempts to find the perfect friend for his green giraffe. She can’t help but ruffle his hair a little before she leaves.

She steps out of her classroom, careful not to bend the decorations she spent all summer making. Her door is covered in all the recycled newspapers she scrounged from the people in her apartment building, painted in varying shades of green. Pasted on top of them were individually cut sunflowers with her student’s names written in neat, bubbly print in the middle. Amongst the flowers are the words “Young Minds Bloom In Ms. Walker’s Classroom!” in white paint.

As she walks past her bulletin board, the real star of the show in her opinion, she feels a little pride go through her. “Blooming Great Work!” scrawled across the sky of an entire paper vegetable garden, squeezed onto a four by eight foot sheet of compressed wood pulp. A tiny pumpkin patch in the corner, tomatoes on the vine, corn in the stalk, all crafted from more recycled newspapers. The real part she was proud of, the one no one had commented on or even noticed, was the fact that she was able to find enough papers without sensationalized political headlines.

War dominated everything from the newspapers to the television to the cereal half her students ate for breakfast (sending your kids to school hyped up on Sugar Bombs? Great plan). Most of them had a father, an older brother, or an uncle in the military, the marines, or the air force. It had become such a permeable part of the fabric of their lives, starting way before they were even a twinkle in their parent’s eyes. On the first day of school, at least three had said that their daddy/brother/uncle died in The War. Kids overshared their big feelings. Georgia knew to expect that. So the very least she could do is try to take their minds off of it in any small way she could. That included keeping it out of her classroom of seven to eight year olds when it wasn’t necessary.

As she walked past the counselor’s office, she wondered just how many big feelings passed through their door on the daily. Not many schools in Boston still had counselors on payroll anymore. Frankly, Georgia was surprised they still had the teachers on the payroll with how many slashes there had been to the national education budget in recent years. Dollar bills for pencils, textbooks, and backpacks spent on bullets, tanks, and warheads. It had almost been enough for her to give up on her degree in her junior year of college, but she pushed through if only to make taking out those damnable student loans somewhat worth it.

All that was to say, that whoever was going to be picking up Henry Tate, they may have gotten stuck behind a military blockade somewhere in the city. It happened. Didn’t make it any less frustrating to deal with.

Georgia rounds the corner of the second grade hallway and runs straight into a cloud of minty smelling smoke. She coughs, not expecting her senses to be assaulted like that in a primary school, and waves it away as she realizes who brought it in with them.

A man with tousled brown hair, broad shouldered and lean, a cigarette between his scarred lips, stares at the trophy case in front of the main office.

“‘Most Patriotic’, eh?” he says aloud like he’d been waiting for her to appear so he could make his snappy quip. “How do they even measure that in kids? I doubt any of them can say the national anthem all the way through at this age.”

“You’d be surprised,” she says before she can think, remembering the first day of school when little Henry Tate himself managed to get through the entire thing, only stumbling over the word indivisible. “By the way, you shouldn’t smoke inside a school, sir.”

The man laughs and finally looks in her direction. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes give her a quick once over.

“Why’s that? Fire hazard?” he asks.

“Among other things,” she replies. “They say smokin’ is bad for your health. I read it in Massachusetts Surgical Journal.”

“A bunch of boring brainy types would say that,” he shrugs, but snubs his cigarette out on the heel of his boot anyways and slips it back into the carton in his shirt pocket. “No offense if you’re one of those brainy types, by the way.”

A laugh sneaks past Georgia’s lips. She’s been known to indulge in a smoke or two during her breaks. “No offense taken, but I might offend you by askin’…you wouldn’t happen to be here to pick up a child, would you?”

“I am, actually,” he confirms. “Sister-in-law sent me to pick him up. Henry Tate. You know him?”

“I happen to be his teacher. I came to make another call, but he’s back in the classroom working on a friend for a green giraffe. A sick giraffe, mind you,” she says seriously, wagging a finger at him and making him chuckle. She smiles. “I’ll show you the way.”

“Be my guest,” he replies, and follows after her.

Before they can even walk through the door, Henry is rushing his uncle like a linebacker. His uncle manages to swoop him up before he can run smack into his shins, making him scream with laughter.

“Uncle Nate! Uncle Nate!” he cries.

“Yep, that’s me, kiddo,” he says and puts Henry down. “Mom was too busy to pick you up—” Georgia catches the look he throws at her just in time that says all she needed to know about his opinion of the woman. “So you get me instead. Sorry to disappoint.”

“You’re not a dis’pointment,” Henry says with a toothy grin. Then, like he remembers Georgia standing not three feet away from them, excitedly shouts, “Wait, wait, Uncle Nate! This is my teacher, Miss Georgia. She’s really nice. I like her.”

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” Georgia laughs as he wraps his arms around her legs in a quick hug. She gives him a pat on the back, then takes Nate’s hand when he offers it to shake.

“From what I hear, he doesn’t stop talking about school, you especially,” he says. He rests an arm against the wall of cubbies nearest the door, running a hand through his hair as he talks. Georgia feels a little warmth pool in her face when she catches herself staring for a second longer than is polite.

“Well, that’s nice to hear as well,” she says after clearing her throat.

Then he winks at her, a split-second thing that makes her blush for real this time as he tells Henry, “Hey, little man. Why don’t you go get your stuff together and then we’ll swing by the Red Rocket and get us some sodas, okay? I wanna talk to your teacher for a second.”

At the promise of soda, Henry darts off with a cheer to gather his things. Nate then turns to Georgia, warm brown eyes giving her another quick once over. She shivers.

“So, is it Miss or Miz?” he asks, nodding towards the door to the classroom. “I wanna know before I make an ass of myself.”

She tries to keep her laugh quiet, putting a hand over her mouth but failing to contain her volume. Her cheeks feel hot already.

“It’s, uh, Miss. Miss Walker. M-I-S-S,” she clarifies, face growing redder by the second.

“Good to know, Miss Walker. But where’s that accent from? Down south? You sound too soft to be from here,” he continues, fiddling with the carton in his shirt pocket.

“Arkansas,” she nods, reaching up to nervously fidget with one of the curls resting on her shoulder. “Grew up outside of Little Rock, moved here for college and decided to stay. You?”

“Boston born and raised,” Nate says with pride. “Nice to know you’re not from around here.”

Georgia raises an eyebrow at him. “And why’s that?”

“Means I can show you somewhere neat on our date,” he replies with a crooked grin, her heart fluttering.

“Date?” Georgia repeats, almost sure she didn’t hear him correctly. She flounders like a fish out of water.

“If you want,” Nate concedes, holding up his hands but his grin never faltering. “C’mon, let me show you somewhere nice. Somewhere you’ve never been before.”

She tries to compose herself, giving him an amused but disbelieving look and crossing her arms. “And what if I have been there? What then?”

Nate snorts, dismissive. “Trust me. You’ve never been there before. So what do you say? One date and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Georgia considers his offer. In half a second she manages to justify either answer. On one hand, she has rules when it comes to dating, not to mention dating a family member of one of her students. It came with its own host of issues from a potential breakup ruining her classroom dynamic or even getting fired. On the other hand…She gives him her own quick once over.

He’s like a goddamn calendar man, all toned muscles in a white t-shirt and charmingly tousled hair. And that scar on his lip? All that was missing was some oil and the washboard abs he undoubtedly had under the shirt. Georgia remembers to breathe again after pushing the train of thought away. The pros quickly begin to outweigh the cons. She’d sooner stick herself with a pair of safety scissors than say no to him.

“Pick me up at six and it’s a date.”

-----

In hindsight, stabbing herself with safety scissors that afternoon might have saved Georgia no small amount of grief.

By her own account, their first date had gone well. Really well if their winnings from hustling his friends at pool in a veteran’s bar was anything to go by. That night she had learned Nathan “Nate” Tate had recently finished up his eight year commitment to the military, but now he was working in a Corvega factory his uncle owned. It was one of the many around the Boston area that had switched from producing its titular cars to jeeps and tanks in an effort to cash in on the war effort. He had his own sweet Corvega Blitz that he picked her up in, shiny and red as her lipstick.

Nate had oozed charm that night, enough to get her into his backseat on that first date, and the second one, and the third one, too. She’d become so enamored with him so fast that her mother had demanded she fly up and meet the man after a single phone call. She dragged her father along, too. Nate impressed them with flying colors. Her mother, albeit a little hesitantly, admitted she could understand her daughter’s feelings. Her father had clapped him on the shoulder and told him he was a solid man.

They were married within the next three months.

“And you’re absolutely sure you want to go through with this?”

“For the hundredth time, yes, Mama,” Georgia huffs, looking at her mother over her shoulder. “Besides, as you and Daddy keep remindin’ me, this weddin’ wasn’t exactly cheap. I don’t see the sense in backin’ out now.”

Georgia’s mother sighs and purses her lips as she finishes buttoning up the back of her dress. It was a simple thing, not much flair save for bits of lace and a tight sweetheart neckline her cousin said enhanced her “natural features” when the women in her family went wedding dress shopping with her. Her mother wears a blush pink dress with an empire waist and a knee-length skirt; she’d tried talking Georgia into a different color palette, but eventually acquiesced to her demands when it became clear she was indeed her mother’s daughter, headstrong and stubborn.

“A hundred percent sure?” she asks again. Georgia replies with a similar pursed expression. “Just makin’ sure, just makin’ sure…Is it such a crime for a mother to want her only daughter to be happy?”

“Mama, I am happy,” Georgia insists. She sighs then takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I am perfectly happy with Nate. Last night I talked him into us gettin’ a dog when we find a house.”

Her mother all but throws her hands up in the air, exasperated.

“Hell, honey, if a dog is all it takes for you to be happy, I don’t see why we have to go through with all of this,” she says. “I mean really, Georgia, six months? Half the people out there think it’s a damn shotgun weddin’ for God’s sake.”

“Mama!”

“Well, it’s the truth! You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“What? No!” Georgia sighs again and refrains from playing with her neatly styled hair no matter how much she wants to fidget around. Instead, she takes one of her mother’s hands into her own and squeezes.

“I’m not pregnant—yet,” she tells her. “We’ve talked about kids. A dog is the first step, sorta. But I promise you, I’m happy with him. Ecstatic, even. Everyone outside? They can think what they want, I don’t care. I love Nate and he loves me. Isn’t that all anyone can ask for?”

She can tell her mother is biting her tongue. Instead of arguing, Georgia is pulled into a tight hug.

“Love and an expensive reception,” she says, then checks the clock on the vanity. “Almost time, hun. Let’s go.”

-----

May 1st, 2076

When Nate picks her up after work, Georgia just about makes it to the car before she starts tearing up.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” he asks when she collapses into the passenger seat beside him.

“My decorations!” she sobs.

Nate gives her a sideways look as he pulls out of the school parking lot. “What about ‘em?”

“They ruined them!”

“Who’s ‘them?’”

Georgia wants to scream. Instead, she lets her nails dig into the leather of her seat and heaves a sigh. She hates crying.

“Remember those two teachers I told you about? The ones who kept makin’ snippy comments about my bulletin board?” she asks, trying to jog his memory. They always had something to say whenever they walked past her classroom. Something was always either out of place or over the top for them. For a while she had blamed it on them being bitter and uncreative, but today had been the last straw.

“Oh, yeah, them. So they ruined your bulletin board?”

“They didn’t just ruin it, they–I-I walked into the school this mornin’ and, and everything was a mess. They destroyed everything I worked so fuckin’ hard on!” she manages to get out between sobs, punching the glovebox in frustration.

It was the beginning of the last month of school and she had gone all out with her new decorations. She’d spent weeks on them in between house hunting with Nate. She’d sat at his kitchen counter cutting out buckets, shovels, and beach balls out of more newspaper, creating an entire beach scene for the wall outside her classroom with the words “We ‘Shore’ Are Ready For Summer!” above them. She stayed two hours late just to put them up, and even took a cab home so Nate wouldn’t have to wait on her.

When she walked in that morning, all of it was either ripped, crumpled, or on the ground. She hadn’t cried then, but when one of those teachers walked by and commented “Oh, too bad. Guess you’ll just have to settle for some more lowkey decorations, huh?” she nearly lost it. Instead, she had managed to hold her head high, salvage what she could, and resolve to put it up again when she had the time and the super glue.

“Well,” Nate says, eyes never leaving the road, “fuck them, right? Probably just a couple of jealous old hags.”

Georgia sniffs, not quite wanting to agree but not quite disagreeing either.

“Probably just jealous,” she says, wiping away the rest of her tears and checking her face in the sun visor. Streaks of mascara and eyeliner trail down her cheeks so she does her best to wipe it off, but her eyes are still red.

“In better news,” Nate starts, finally looking over at her during a red light, “I may have found our future house.”

“Really?” Georgia asks, snapping her head over to look at him. Suddenly her problems are miles away. “Where? How? When did you find it? When can we see it?”

“In about a month,” he replies and takes a turn he doesn’t usually take on the drive home.

“A month? Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. Just sit tight and look pretty, alright?”

They drive all the way out to Concord, stopping only to grab a couple of sodas at a Red Rocket before Nate is driving them over a bridge into a housing development. A temporary sign in block letters reads SANCTUARY HILLS, with thirteen prefabricated homes in different states of completion. They were all either yellow or blue, some with covered carports and some without. Only one home stands in its entirety near the entrance to the neighborhood and Nate parks the car in front of it.

“Is this it?” Georgia asks excitedly as she gets out of the car and onto the sidewalk.

“Not this one, but close,” Nate replies as he joins her, then nods further up the road, “ours will be over there.”

She turns on her heel to him, eyes wide. “‘Ours?’”

Nate only gives her a sly smile in return.

“You cannot be serious right now,” Georgia says but he just keeps on smiling down at her. “Do not play with me, Nathan.”

He opens the passenger door to the car and rifles around in the glovebox for a moment, coming back out with folded papers. He barely has them in front of her before she’s snatching them out of his hands, reading them over. She looks back up at him incredulously.

“Nathan Charles Tate!” she all but shouts, making him jump. “What was goin’ through your head?! Are you crazy? Why would you make this decision without me?”

“Relax a little, would you? Plots were going fast, it was in our price range, and we can move in in a month,” he tries to tell her but she can’t keep her upset from showing. “It was now or never.”

They had been looking for somewhere to settle down since before they got married and with the housing market as terrible as it was…Maybe this was a boon falling into their laps. Maybe she was still stressed from school and taking it out on him. That wasn’t fair. Georgia sighs and hands the papers back to him.

“I just…I would’ve liked to be in the loop, y’know,” she frowns.

“I would’ve told you sooner, but you’ve been busy with school stuff. I only signed the papers today. If you’re really pissed, I can try walking back the contract, but—”

“Okay, now I know you’re definitely crazy in the head. That’d be more pain than it’s worth,” Georgia says, a small part of her beginning to think about how they’d like to decorate their first house. The idea is starting to grow on her.

“So you’re not upset?”

“Oh, no, I’m furious. But I think that can be fixed if you tell me you at least signed off on a blue one,” she says and he gives her that crooked smile that still makes her chest flutter.

“All blue for you, baby,” he says, and a little smile of her own works its way onto her face.

With that, she wraps him in a hug, burying her face in his chest. He smells like sandalwood and smoke and is warm to the touch. His arms around her and his face in her hair is comforting in the best way. He kisses her on the forehead and lifts her up by the chin, something unknowable ruminating in his mind if she judges his expression right.

“So…” he starts, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Better watch out,” she jokes and he tweaks her nose for it, making her giggle.

“Seriously, just listen. I’ve been thinking about this while we’ve been house hunting,” he says, and she gives him all of her undivided attention, “and I think you should quit your job.”

Georgia’s pleased expression drops, her eyebrows furrowed as she squints at him in the fading sunlight. Streetlamps lining the road flicker on, one after the other.

“Excuse me?” He can’t be serious.

“Let me finish before you get pissed at me again,” Nate starts, releasing her from his hug to raise his hands in defense. “Look, we have a house now. Or we will soon and you’ve been complaining about that damn school for months—”

“So you want me to quit my job right as we’re taking on a bunch of new bills? Nate, I can’t, that’s crazy!” She has to put her foot down here. Yes, her coworkers were mean, yes, the pay was shit, and yes, being the sole caretaker of twenty-eight kids for eight hours a day was perhaps the tiniest bit stressful. But it was all nothing she couldn’t handle in the long run, and she hasn’t even finished her first year.

“Listen,” Nate says again, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I got a promotion today at work. I’m off the factory floor and in the office making more than enough, plus all of my military benefits.”

“Wait, you got a promotion today? You should have led with that,” Georgia says, crossing her arms.

“I wanted to, but you started crying the second you got into the car.”

She bites her lip and concedes to his point. She hadn’t even given him a chance.

“Think about it: you, at home, putting all your creative genius into some interior decorating. Doesn’t that sound more fun than making flimsy paper decorations only for some old bat to tear them down?” Nate asks her. “And hey, we can finally get that dog you’ve been talking about.”

She’s gone through a whirlwind of emotions within the last ten minutes and Georgia can’t clear her head of them while she’s still looking into his pleading eyes. He’s thrown so much information at her, but she can just about make out the specs of gold among the brown and in that instant she knows he has her just where he wants her. The more she thinks about it, the more she pictures them picking out new furniture, walking the dog around the neighborhood, cookouts with neighbors…Maybe she wants to be there, too.

“I’ll think about it,” she says finally and he grins like he’s already won. She holds up a finger, pressing it to his lips before he can try to kiss her. “Let me finish out the school year first. It’s only ‘til the end of May. After that, we’ll have plenty of time to move in and start decoratin’ over summer break.”

Nate just keeps grinning down at her, then surprises her when he scoops her up into his arms to spin her around.

“We have a house!” he cries out, his voice echoing through the empty neighborhood.

“We have a house!” Georgia shouts, laughing as he spins her.

He brings her down to plant one on her, dipping her when he does, and she can’t remember the last time she’s felt so happy after feeling so low.

-----

It takes a little less than a month before their house in Sanctuary Hills is move-in ready.

After a week of getting things unpacked and settled, Georgia tries to be neighborly. She makes a double batch of shortbread cookies with the few ingredients they have with the intent to go door-to-door and introduce herself, but it doesn’t pan out how she imagined it.

The only person who doesn’t turn her down is the man in the Hawthorne residence at the front of the neighborhood. To his credit, he was neighborly in his own way and offers to trade her the whole container for a box of Mentats that she only declines out of polite shock. Walking away, she can remember the taste of the orange ones from her college days on the tip of her tongue.

Coming home with a still-heavy container, sad and a little dejected, Georgia opens the door to her own home and walks past Nate on the couch and into the kitchen, setting the cookies on the counter.

“It’s either the new tax bracket or there’s somethin’ in the water makin’ everyone paranoid enough to turn down free food in a crisis,” she sighs, leaning against the counter and looking through their unopened mail. Bill, campaign soliciting, bill, bill, junk, paycheck, bill.

“No one wanted your cookies? More for me, then,” Nate shrugs as he watches the news.

After the news anchor reports on messages from the war front, the commercial breaks show fancy new Corvega Atomic V-8s, placement in a doomsday Vault, and domestic helper Miss Nanny robots. Then the anchor is back on screen and talks about the riots (some even inside Boston), the food shortages, and the chance that foreign spies could be anywhere. A rinse and repeat of instilled paranoia until the channel changes. It’s all so bleak that Georgia thinks she can’t blame her neighbors too much.

“Bring me one, would you?” Nate asks, gesturing over at her. “Those are my favorite.”

Georgia purses her lips at him over her shoulder while she opens the bills, “You have legs, mister. Use ‘em or lose ‘em.”

She turns back to the bills—surely the electric can’t be that high—and ignores his sigh from behind her. He walks over and pops open the tin, leaning against the counter.

“The boys invited me out to the bar this weekend,” he says through a mouthful of shortbread, then swallows. “You wanna come?”

Georgia’s eyes flit to him over the water bill. “I thought you wanted to go pick out a new bed frame this weekend. You made quite a few jokes about ‘breakin’ it in’, too.”

Nate almost appears to weigh the two options as he says, “Oh, yeah…”

“How about this,” he says, taking a bite out of another cookie, “bed frame in the morning, bar at night?”

“Maybe. I wanna take another crack at goin’ around the neighborhood,” she replies, thinking over her options. “Maybe these people just don’t like shortbread.”

Nate snorts, “Yeah, that’s it. Well, I’m going either way, so make up your mind by Friday.”

“Will do,” she nods absently, going back to calculating their bills in her head before she suddenly remembers the shortlist of chores she’d left before making her way around the neighborhood. “Hey, did you put the laundry on while I was out?”

Nate, covered in cookie crumbs, looks like a deer in headlights. She gives him a flat look.

“Sorry?” he tries, not looking the least bit guilty.

“Nevermind,” she mutters, and goes to do it herself.

-----

In July, Nate finally makes good on the promise of a dog (a sweet little Bichon Frise named Lady) and Georgia puts her resignation in. By December, regret hits her like a cast iron pan and a wooden spoon.

She sits on the couch, wrapped up in her robe as she reads her books from the library in the city. Despite all the fighting between them in the last few months, he still agrees to drive her into the city on Saturday mornings as long as he’s allowed to go out with his friends later that night. It gives her plenty of time to read, but it leaves her more than a little lonely, even with the dog, which is where the root of their problems lie.

In August, Nate told her that he was having to put in some overtime at the Corvega factory. Something about quotas not being met, workers threatening to strike, and not enough bodies on the floor. So he’s back on the line, but he assures her his uncle isn’t docking his pay. Georgia understands this and for the first few weeks she greets him at night with a late dinner and a warm shower. She even makes him breakfast to reheat in the mornings before he takes off and full lunches to share with the other men on the line. He called her his “perfect little housewife” and she ignored the twist in her stomach.

Georgia doesn’t think it would have gotten as bad between them if they had more than one car. As is, he drives it to work every day and it hadn’t taken long to get the house in order, so she was left to her own devices for the most part. She was a sociable creature, always had been, and being constrained to the house had done a number on her. The daily walks with Lady helped a little, but the dog wasn’t much of a conversational partner, and Georgia liked to talk. At one point she had even called up her sister-in-law, Margaret, and asked if she could babysit Henry, but she wasn’t willing to drive all the way out to Concord every time she needed to run an errand. So with neighbors that hated her and a husband that was rarely home, Georgia couldn’t help but feel lonely.

From the hallway, Nate stalks into the kitchen. His hair is wet from the shower and his clothes stick to him enough to show off every muscle underneath. Six months ago, she would’ve come up behind him and jumped his bones right there. As it stands, they haven’t had sex in four.

He opens the refrigerator and takes out last night’s lasagna before heading towards the side door to the carport. Georgia frowns.

“Where are you goin’? It’s nine o’clock at night,” she says and he stops at the door.

“Boys wanted to hang out,” he says quickly, “you know how it is.”

She dog-ears her book and puts it down, getting up from the couch. “Really? Why can’t you stay home tonight? Please?”

Nate’s sigh is agitated. She’s asked the wrong question.

“Why? So you can ignore me with your books then go to bed with another headache?” he asks her rhetorically. His words shock her nevertheless and she stands there, wondering what she did between now and this morning to make him bring that up.

“I’m sorry?” she says, less like an apology and more like a chance for him to take it back.

“Yeah, you should be,” he snaps, and goes for the door again. Georgia nearly flips the liquor cabinet by her side.

“Nate, are you serious? What the hell is wrong with you?” she demands, following him out to the carport.

“Just leave it alone, alright? Christ. I’ll be home before midnight.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything else before he’s inside the car and slamming the door shut. When he peels out of the driveway, Georgia refrains from screaming into the night and slams her own door on her way back inside.

-----

January 2077

“Fuck, ow.”

Georgia squints into the bathroom mirror, face pressed close enough to where she can pluck her eyebrows with surgical precision. A stray piece of wheat blonde hair that didn’t make it into the curlers piled atop her head falls in front of her eyes and she curses again, putting the tweezers down to fix the offending piece. As she does, her blush falls into the sink and cracks the pressed powder inside, staining the porcelain pink.

“Mary, Joseph, and Jesus, can I catch a break?” she mutters, salvaging what she can and closing the compact.

In the trashcan by the toilet are seven positive pregnancy tests she walked all the way to the pharmacy in Concord to get. She had tried to be discreet, but the girl behind the counter had congratulated her loudly enough to draw the attention of a few other customers, and hid a family planning pamphlet between the boxes. Georgia walked out of there sweating like a sinner in church.

She spies her wedding ring beside the hot water handle, and given that it’s pertinent she wears it tonight, she slips it onto her finger before it has a chance to fall down the drain. That was the last thing she needed.

Georgia is pregnant, and she doesn’t feel half as excited as she thought she would.

She and Nate had talked about having kids, of course. It was the main topic of their third date. He told her he’d always wanted a big family—a pretty wife, four kids minimum, and a protective yet lovable dog (they were still working on the dog, surprisingly. Lady ended up pissing on Nate’s side of the bed soon after they got her and was given to her mother-in-law a little while later).

Georgia wanted a family, too, of course. She had always imagined herself having kids someday, but she thought that reality was a little further away. Twenty-three still feels too early to become a mother even if most of her old college friends she hasn’t talked to in two years are starting families as well. It all feels so sudden, even if it’s exactly what she planned.

She files the thoughts away for later, and focuses on finishing up her face. Her makeup had gone untouched for a while after she stopped leaving the house as much, but she knew Nate liked when she dolled herself up. Hopefully it will help.

Once her face is powdered, her hair curled, and lips lined, she goes to their closet to pull out her best dress. Pink, of course, with flowery lace around the hem. She slips it on, careful of her curls, and debates on adding a blue belt just to be on theme before deciding against it. Besides, maybe the pink will help manifest a little girl. On the dresser is her eighth pregnancy test, sealed inside a plastic bag. She slips it into her pocket just as she hears a car pull into the driveway.

Things with Nate have been…better. Not great, but better. He’s stopped going out as much and she’s been less demanding of him. Their relationship was fractured, yes, but she knew in her heart that after today, it would be repaired and made to last.

She’s in the kitchen when he comes in, jumpsuit wrinkled and dirty. Georgia can smell the sweat on him from five feet away.

“Georgia, I’m—Oh, well look at you,” Nate says, giving her a long look from her head to her feet.

She smiles and gives him a little twirl and when he whistles at her, warmth blooms in her chest. He walks over and wraps her up in his arms. Georgia takes a deep breath, swallows the lump that forms in her throat, and hugs him back.

“What’s this all about?” he asks, looking down at her.

Her hand disappears into her pocket. When she pulls out the pregnancy test and sees Nate’s face, she almost wishes she could photograph it and save it forever.

She takes a deep breath, and her voice doesn’t even crack when she inhales the perfume on his collar. She puts on a smile.

“I’m pregnant.”

#fallout #fallout fic #fallout 4 #fo4 #fic: best laid plans #y'all i am so proud of this chapter & the effects it will have on the fic in later chapters pls give me feedback a;ldskjf

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darubyprincx · 1 year

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i have uploaded the link to the ashes narration video! this is unlisted but feel free to share with anyone you feel like. this is only chapter one and will probably be the only one for a while cos, y'know, Busy, but yeah hope y'all enjoy

#amys' tag #ashes au #please check the subtitles and don't be afraid to hit us up if you have any comments or feedback about them #thanks y'all :]

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heretyc · 2 years

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eddie and val headcanons + rlly small fics to get back into my writing spirit [DD:DNE]

There are some sections that mention vague NSFW but that's it. These are also taking place in their original universes; I love modern AU but it's fun to experiment and whatnot. They don't murder you but instead like/love you because fanfiction logic hehehehehe

If there are spelling mistakes, forgive me. I am not kidding I am on my KNEES and I want you to forgive me [although I will be rereading this like a BITCH]

I added the DD:DNE tag because I don't condone anything that happens in these nor do I encourage you to enter a relationship with a murderer or a cultist [insert The Rock's eyebrow meme here]

Implied TW with the DD:DNE tag. Eddie's a murderer and Val is Val [aka a rapist with a bigger ass than mine wtf], so proceed with caution if mentions of sex and murder disturb you. Val uses they/them because everyone sees them differently. See them however you want in this 🙏

These are basic hc's but being a hoe I added reader interaction. #girlboss

Feel free to give me your thoughts on how I portrayed these two!

☸ Eddie Gluskin —

♡ As much as you'd like to take him home with you, you cannot do that unless you want your entire neighbourhood to be slashed to shit because of an angry murderous man toddler. He cannot enter society because I think you know what would happen if he did. Not to mention he's probably on some wanted list. He needs to stay in a normal institution where he ISN'T tested for some weird supernatural bullshit.

♡ He also needs to be taught that misogyny isn't cute.

♡ Eddie has an intense fear of abandonment, as shown when Waylon runs off from him. This results in an outburst, so it's not entirely inaccurate for me to think he has a Cluster B personality disorder. Meaning he is emotional, erratic, and dramatic. We all see how his emotions span from anger to sadness in a single minute.

However before Murkoff scrambled his brains he exhibited more behaviours from the Cluster C personality disorders.

[Cluster types here if you'd like to know more]

♡ Eddie...would not be the best partner. Walking on eggshells is not the way to go.

♡ If you decide to become intimate with him I am sending you all the luck on God's green Earth.

♡ He'd need patience. Loads and loads of patience. Also, like...hide the sharp objects.

♡ He'd need to vent, man. Vent and vent and vent. If you're understanding and compassionate, he'll appreciate it immensely.

♡ He has the shittest coping mechanisms. Introduce him to something healthier, please.

♡ Eddie has very childlike beliefs. Death is not a thing to him, rather he views it as "sleep". Due to not being able to have a proper childhood, you can expect a lot of topics to be seen from an innocent point of view. He cannot help it.

♡ It's very likely his charming personality is just a front so you don't leave him. If you stay with him he'll likely form his own, although it's possible he'll keep the gentleman persona to a point.

♡ Sexually, he may not be as immaculate as he likes to think he is; a panic attack is very much a possibility. Flashbacks, too.

♡ Patience comes out to play yet again, here.

♡ Despite his violent outbursts and such, he has his pros.

♡ Can take a very optimistic approach to things. You dropped something and it broke? Silly you! You accidentally cut yourself? Oh dear, be more careful next time!

♡ He can sometimes come to extremely inaccurate conclusions. Waylon falling and getting stabbed by glass = trying to die just to get away from Eddie.

...That's not completely untrue, but you know. Assure him that you're not trying to secretly leave his ass. [Unless you are. Then good luck :*]

♡ Obviously homemade clothes, crafted with love. Maybe some blood here and there.

♡ Murkoff is a shit place to reside in, but because the mention of Eddie scares the variants shitless, nobody goes near you. A blessing and a curse.

♡ He's no doctor, not like Trager, but he does have experience with stitching if the time ever comes when you need stitches. Just make sure you take a shitload of painkillers first. Eddie is precise, but he can't make it painless.

♡ He'd prevent you from venturing into the gym for...obvious reasons.

♡ If a variant had previously scared the bejesus out of you or just generally made you feel unsafe, he'd give them the Eddie Gluskin treatment, no questions asked.

♡ You can't eat sewing machines. They taste gross. No nutritional value. So you make the extremely brave trip above to grab food from the low-key haunting cafeteria. Also...water.

Anxiety and anger combat each other in Eddie's head, but basically, to avoid any visits from the Groom, Dennis will spectate your little adventure and make sure you come back. When the Groom has to leave his little mancave, it's never good.

♡ Because he's old-fashioned and has been surrounded by nothing but this cold asylum, he knows nothing about modern stuff. Cell phones? He's not sure what that shit is but it's magical.

♡ You have no service down here, but you DID manage to find a free wifi signal...might as well pass the time until your phone dies.

♡ He's enamoured. Duh.

♡ It doesn't hurt to open YouTube and introduce him to the Fallout soundtrack. Promise. Too much oldies for him to miss out on.

I beg you...please introduce him to Cheek to Cheek by Fred Astaire. Not because I listened to it while writing this but it fits him so well. [I also was non-stop listening to The Plagues from The Prince of Egypt but that's different rofl]

♡ He'd be a bird person. 100%. They'd sing together, and the feathers of the bird would no doubt inspire Eddie to work with colourful fabrics. [I had a dream about Eddie keeping me in a birdcage...it was odd but that's how dreams are ig]

♡ He'd like winter. An excuse to stay indoors and spend time with his loved ones.

♡ He has mannequins to use for his dressmaking and such, but he'll use you for it instead once you're settled. [Aka forced to stay down there and make no effort to leave anymore.]

♡ If he's able, he gives the best embraces. Like...expect the warmest and biggest of hugs.

♡ If you're having difficulties sleeping, he'll happily use his sleep gas on you. Just...um...expect to sleep for the next 12 hours. It's potent.

♡ Eddie is an excellent listener when you need him to be. Ranting about your problems to him as he sews or sharpens his knives is a common activity.

♡ Wants to suffer with you. Doesn't matter what it is, he's intent on sharing your struggles. Not to the point where he'll mimic your injuries but he'll make you squeeze his hand or something.

♡ He learns to take his anger out on variants instead of you. Since meeting you've shown him [forced] kindness, it'd be wrong to harm the one person he's grown to actually like.

♡ Oh yeah. Kindness. Eddie's life has been full of monstrous individuals. His uncle. His father. The staff here...kindness is a foreign thing to him.

♡ He will not let you go. It's something he craves, now. And he reciprocates.

♡ Just saying...if a Murkoff staff member finds their way into the third floor, whether to kill you so you don't spread their secret or just to hide away, don't stop Eddie from expressing his rage.

Sit back, relax, witness the bloodshed.

♡ Eddie doesn't mind blood getting on him. It's warm, a lovely shade of red. What's not to like about it?

However, he will refrain from getting it on you. You've expressed disgust before.

♡ He seems like the type to write poetry. With his vocab? You bet.

♡ Chastise this mfer if he says something misogynistic or something hurtful to you. He's not in a situation where he has to be on fight mode [in his words, "vulgar mode"] anymore. He has no excuses, goddammit.

♡ He uses pet names for everyone. Easier than having to learn and remember names.

Well...pet names for the people he likes. Vulgarities for anybody else.

♡ His love language is a mix between physical touches, compliments, gifts and murder. The last one is...eh.

By murder I mean you'll be safe from any assholes with the intent to harm you.

♡ If Waylon exists [aka you're not in his place] and traverses down there, you can bet he'll try to get you out. Whatever happens to him is up to you. [Save his ass if you can though or Lisa will be furious, okay??]

♡ If you're afraid of thunderstorms, then his little section of the asylum is the best place to be. His music drowns out the thunder and torrential rain. Lightning is still a possibility but he'll take your mind off of it.

♡ He avoids sleep like the plague. Night terrors are inevitable and he doesn't get his work done if he's asleep.

♡ You know how they give dementia patients baby dolls to help them calm down? Give one to Eddie.

♡ If your childhood was traumatic as well, he'll listen to you talk about it. Again; excellent listener when he needs to be.

♡ He has issues separating his own beliefs and reality. Be extremely careful with this information.

♡ If you didn't like work or going outside before, you miss the hell out of those now. You're not as afraid anymore, but the boredom is more likely to kill you.

♡ If he is sexually active, he's a gentle dom. Unless he's angry in that moment, in which he's rough. Aftercare is a must with him, too.

♡ Eddie never leaves the third floor as long as you're there. If he leaves to grab a victim and someone managed to slip by and hurt you, what will he do with himself?

♡ He'll come outside with you to the courtyard but that's the farthest he'll go.

♡ He'd be a violinist. Violins tend to sound haunting and elegant, which I think suit him well.

♡ There are so many sewing machines down there, that it'd be weird to not consider learning how to sew.

Yes, he teaches you.

♡ This man is tall. 'Climb him like a tree' tall. No longer will you have to stand on your tippy-toes to grab things off of shelves. [If you're short of course lol]

♡ He'd support the things you'd like. He probably has no idea what those things are but he doesn't need to in order to support you.

♡ He makes Christmas sweaters. Yes, they're ugly. No, you won't tell him.

♡ If you were a variant beforehand, nobody goes near the third floor. Everyone knows of your combined wrath.

♡ I don't think he cares too much about Walrider. It's more enamoured with Miles, whom he knows nothing about because he doesn't even know Miles exists, but he has more things to worry about.

♡ He also would not care about Chris, Jeremy or Trager unless they involved themselves. He cares only for his territory, his wives and himself. [And you, obviously.]

♡ He doesn't bat an eye when he has to murder another variant. It's just a common thing for him. Almost the same as breathing.

♡ Because he has mood swings and gets angry over the smallest of things, he will 100% say things in the heat of the moment. He doesn't mean any of them. Chastise his ass.

"If this is you on the honeymoon, I'd hate to imagine our anniversary" man shut up 💀

♡ Let's you carry his knife for safety. Or just because.

♡ No matter how you identify...expect to wear dresses. There are no issues with doing so, and he doesn't care, he's more concerned about the length and the colour.

♡ If you were a worker before the breakout happened, and you were nice to him, he will remember.

♡ He has...a very strange pain tolerence. This mfer made little to no noise when being impaled. Do whatever you'd like with this information.

⚘ ————————————————————————————————⚘

❝Oh, darling...I'm so sorry. The vermin here can get quite vulgar with their actions. It's unfortunate.❞

It's rare to witness such a behemoth of a man express kindness, but down here it's all you're exposed to, now.

Well, that and the occasional variant who dares to lay a harmful hand on you, either not knowing or not remembering that the Thing Below had claimed you as his own.

He protects what he has.

Albeit your bleeding arm and less-than-amused facial expression, Eddie chirps away, and with gentle care, wraps a somewhat dirtied bandage around the wound. Gentleness is something that you'd think would be foreign to him, but apparently not.

❝They're nothing like me. I'm a gentleman, through and through. However, if every man was like me, it'd get quite boring.❞

He stops looking at his handiwork for a moment to wink at you, his blue eye surrounded by pools of hemorrhage, before looking back at the bandaging.

❝And you, darling? You're one of a kind, as well. The rest are all whores. Trying to seduce me. And then leave me.❞

He scowls a bit at the end, making you flinch.

You've seen the bodies. You've heard the screams of the men who died at his hand before coming here. There's no seduction involved, unless you consider fear to be lustrous in nature.

❝Not to worry. You're not one of them.❞

The furrow in his brow leaves as he makes a noise of contentment. Looking down, you can see he's done. Blood seeps through the bandaging, however you feel some relief.

❝All done!❞ Eddie takes your hand into his, the one that's not attached to your injured arm, and twirls you around as if you were a ballerina.

❝How convenient,❞ he muses, ❝the bandaging perfectly matches the dress I finished just before this. Come! You must try it on!❞

You may not be too happy to be down here, stuck and now injured, but it's better to be used as a doll for dresses and his attempts at affection than to be above, running for your life.

So you let him happily take you to the dress he created, and hoped you wouldn't get an infection.

† Val —

♡ Val is a strange individual. You can thank Murkoff for that. They're always lascivious, no matter what they're doing. Either lascivious or remorseless.

♡ They're used to the heat that Arizona offers. By day they stay in the mines, encouraging their children to do the same. The sun's beams can't exactly target you if you're underground.

♡ If you're from the north [like me...oh no] it's likely you cannot stand the heat. They'll assist you to the best of their ability. You can decide what they do to help you beat the heat lol.

♡ Val and the cult's treatment of you really depends on whether Val wants you as an equal or as a Heretic.

Seeing as you're not from there, whether you came there by helicopter and crashed or you were just unlucky as fuck during a hike, it's likely you'll be their equal. They've never seen an outsider before.

♡ If you're equal, you'd be seen as their romantic partner. More attention towards you, curiosity about your life and being involved in the fight against the Scalled and The New Testament are just a few things you need to expect.

♡ Knoth doesn't like you. Neither does Marta, or Laird, or Nick...do you want the entire list?

Just know you don't have to lose sleep over being disliked by an egotistical man and his followers when you have Val and their entire cult to enjoy your existence.

♡ Clay and mud have benefits for the skin. Val's skin is extremely smooth to the touch.

♡ Somewhat familiar with medical stuff. Before the "apocolypse" bullshit they tended to their injured orphans whenever the time arised, so if you accidentally get a gash that's too deep or sprain something, they'll assist you.

♡ The Heretics make you a crown much like Val's. Basically you just became an adoptive parent. Awwww.

♡ They're touchy. Their love language includes loads of physical touches and compliments. Also the occasional murder in your name if someone outside the Heretics touches you. If you feel them embrace you from behind or shove your head into their chest...don't be too shocked.

♡ The visions affect you differently. While they see visions of their God, you'll see other things. Horrific things.

If your memories are like Blake's - full of regret and sorrow - they'll comfort you. You cannot see their true God? Unfortunate. You will soon, but for now, let them aid you in coping...

♡ Their home is extremely fucky, okay? Mazes upon mazes of rocks, torches and the god awful corpses. You have to be guided in and out.

♡ They're rarely ever cruel to anybody. To Knoth's followers? Depends. Thumbs through their eyeballs are deserved for them, no doubt. But sometimes they feel merciful, giving the members quick deaths. Listening to Knoth's bullshit is already painful enough.

♡ They're like a predator. Stalking their prey is fun.

♡ The Heretics are everywhere in the mines. Taking a stroll? There's always gonna be one just chilling somewhere.

♡ Yes, you're involved in the orgies. Yes, you take breaks. You don't have the stamina. Where's the damn Powerade in this place??

♡ They're into pain kink. If you're in a non-consensual makeout session then biting into their bottom lip and scratching down their back won't do fuck all.

♡ ....[Sighs] Yes, they lick you. A lot.

♡ Their breath doesn't really smell like anything. You'd know...they lick you constantly. It's how they show their love. Yum.

♡ Going outside during the day is rare. At night is when it's best to strike. Nobody can see them.

♡ Val helps you with the Heretics and their little language. They understand it, but you're left clueless when they talk to each other.

♡ They're automatically the dom unless you make a move. You get on top? Yeah...they're your bitch. They won't pry.

♡ You're given a bone knife. Obviously.

It's dry, because you know, bone, so you never use it. It's just strapped to your hip. But it's handy in cutting things, so.

♡ Consent isn't...a thing to them. They want to give you their love, take it.

♡ Agile. Incredibly agile. They balance on things effortlessly. Y'all saw them in the mines on those thin ass pieces of wood, right LMAO

♡ Cleanliness is not Godliness.

If you were a clean person beforehand...sorry.

♡ If you were with a group of friends you're the one they take.

Somewhat strong hands wrap around your neck, then gently remove themselves as you lose consciousness and your friends cry out for you. How fun! 5 stars on Help. [Get it? Hehehehe]

♡ If you have menstrual cycles [aka blood waterfalls], they'll try to ease your pain with sex. Was this unexpected? [And I believe it's been proven to work. It helps break up blood clots which are the causes of pain irrc]

♡ So, sexually? There's absolutely no chance of being shamed, no matter the kink. BDSM? They have ropes. Priest/Succubus roleplay? Uhhh, fuck yeah, they're down. They do not care as long as it brings pleasure.

♡ Their nose probably doesn't work anymore. When you've smelled enough corpses and the scent of sex your nose is bound to GTFO.

♡ You don't want to give in willingly? Fair! They love cat and mouse. But they hope you're not stupid enough to waltz back into the territory of Marta and the others. Cause they cannot get you back if you do lol

♡ However if you stay within the confines of the mines [it's hard to leave...fucking mazes if you ask me] then they'll find amusement out of it. They know every shortcut and where every tunnel leads. They make heretics keep an eye out at the exits, though.

♡ Compared to Laird I don't think they care too much about the 'modern' world nor know much about it. If you brought a video camera they'd just give it to their heretics or something. They won't think twice unless it's of obvious importance to you.

♡ Won't outright be angry at you for believing in Knoth's God [if you do], but will be annoyed.

♡ If you're a poor wittle Northerner and get heat sickness, or you're just a victim of the heat due to the stupid ass Arizona sun, the mines are...decent, I guess? Kinda gets sticky due to the mud and the orgy sessions but at least there's water to chill in. [Just turn the damn electricity off first !!!!]

Because they're all used to the humidity, and the medication needed to treat headaches and whatnot are in the greedy little hands of Knoth, Val can't really do much except monitor your temperature, make you drink water and chill in a cool place. No sex will be involved, to their displeasure.

♡ They have a strange fascination with blood and innards. They find your disgust of those things to be amusing.

♡ They're tall and lanky. If you're short, they find your height endearing. Especially considering the fact that they might have to assist you with things. If you're the same height, or taller...they might get turned on ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)

♡ If you've taken the place of Blake, and dealt with the bullshit that came with being The Messiah [tm], they are suspiciously gentle.

You've been through a lot, they think. Running from a brainwashed, gothic Knoth apologist, running into an archer and his friend, being crucified by said friend, having rusted and jagged nails shoved into your delicate palms...this night has not been kind. Speaking of crucified; the wounds in your hands were relentless in their pain and their bloodiness. They were raw. Tainted. But not to worry, they'll ease your pain.

♡ Yes, they use their Magic Dust on you. To ease anxieties, pain or used as an aphrodisiac, it is used.

♡ Feeds off of your fear. Eats your fear, horniness, pain and pleasure off of a silver platter.

♡ Not saying it will happen, only if you wanna imagine it for the Angst, but if Marta invades and kills them, you die too. You ride togetha you die togetha, you feel me?

You'll be reunited in Hell. Romantic!

♡ If you're a virgin or the sex you've had beforehand was disappointing, Val is a blessing in disguise. You don't want anyone else. [Yes you do. But you won't say that in front of them.]

♡ They've adapted to eating human flesh. Like...whole ass human flesh. Feral bullshit at its finest. You never will, though. You have yet to lose your humanity.

♡ It's likely you abandoned your clothes at some point. Probably due to bloodstains that no amount of scrubbing and tears can get rid of. Perhaps due to the fact that some of us wear hoodies and jeans to a fucking desert. You dislike being nude? The least Val will do is let you wear their robes. It's not like they wear them in the mines anyway LOL

♡ If the birds are somehow still alive, they'd 100% befriend ravens.

♡ You don't know where or how they got some, but they will wear lingerie for you. Don't ask questions cause I don't have answers 💀

♡ They'd be into art. You've seen the gigantic effigy placed in one of the caves, it'd be odd if they weren't using art to their advantage. Painting with blood is not at all uncommon with them. You can't change my mind x)

♡ Befriending the remorseful heretic is inevitable. Unlike the rest, he is competent. He expresses his emotions, yet has no tongue. He is an example of this corruption. And you can't help but feel fear. He doesn't want you to experience this, yet he dies, and Val has a strange distaste for when you traverse to the lower parts of the mines. You wonder why? [The document is called The Atheist in case the image I linked isn't clear enough/you can't read it <3]

♡ It's very likely you've read the journals. Their decline into madness. Will this happen to you? Most likely. But you can't help but wonder, would Val have treated you like this before the downfall of this society? Or would they be human? You wish you could see it.

If you've brought them with you, I don't think they'd care lol. Unless, of course, you brought pieces of Knoth's gospel. They'd simply laugh at Knoth's idiocy and burn every piece.

♡ Val is very unpredictable. Their face exposes little to no emotion sometimes and it leaves you on edge quite a lot.

♡ Their relationship with you is even more interesting if you're in the New Testament. Love-Hate relationship. You hate them? Oh? Enemies to lovers?

1+ angst if you were lovers or close friends beforehand.

⚘ ————————————————————————————————⚘

The pain in your palms still throbs with pain, raw and angry; your body hates you for this. For the running, the screaming, the climbing. The flashbacks.

You hate the flashbacks. Like body, like mind you hate the reminders of your past.

But right now you'd kill to have one. To rid of this moment.

❝You've been through glorious Hell and back, isn't that right, my love?❞ The serpent, known to you as Val merely smirks at your pain as they lightly trail their fingers around the holes in your hands. Newfound Christ.

❝This land has been unkind to you. Unfortunate.❞ Their bony pointer finger lightly grazes the origins of your pain and you inhale, afraid of what they'll do.

But they merely chuckle and take your hand into theirs, gently. Uncharacteristic.

❝You shall worry no more about the Father's bullshit and his poor excuse of a following.❞ Val licks their lips, staring into your eyes with cold blue ones, and you wonder if this was a sad attempt at trying to ease your anxiety.

You pray as Val prods and picks and bandages you in places you didn't know you were injured, but you know God would rather sip his whiskey and grin at your displeasure.

May he have mercy.

⚘ ——————————————FIN——————————————⚘

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