#Commonwealth Rebuild

[dixdjviews]

Welcome to the first in a new series of Fallout 4 campaign logs where I document my progress through the Commonwealth—not just as a player, but as a field commander rebuilding a post-apocalyptic world.

[soup-mother]

Literally every commonwealth soldier who died in Iraq "was someone's loved one" but hundreds of thousands of civilians bombed apparently weren't. and god knows noone here gave a shit about Iraqi soldiers. "they were the bad guys"

it's all western veterans with ptsd, never gulf war syndrome or famines or the collapse of economies. our soldiers get to fly home and cry about it, and cash in a check.

the amount of military bootlicking on Tumblr is insane. it's all "hate the military not the soldiers" like ppl didn't sign up on mass after 9/11. it's all "hate the system, not the pawn" until it's time to treat arab men like faceless corpses in waiting. stop acting like imperial veterans are all inherently revolutionary. a few ppl with a conscience doesn't rebuild countries or stop the next wave of willing volunteers.

[starshipsofstarlord]

parental advisory | daryl dixon

summary. at the beginning of the strenuous outbreak, you never thought there would ever be the opportunity to build a family. it was never safe, that was until you reached commonwealth. all you want is a baby of your own, but you are unsure if daryl would agree due to the impractical risks and unspoken label of your relationship together (5.8k)

warnings. smut, unprotected sex, cumming inside, fingering, slight handjob, some angst, fluff, reciprocated love, mentions of death, swearing, scars (on both reader and daryl), petnames

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

It was difficult to keep striving on and forwards after so many of those that you had cared for were gone, taken by the harsh circumstances of which you had fought to survive. You’d never forget a single one of them for as long as you lived, they had made you realise that the world still had things to offer, even if you had to look past the traumatic bloodshed and the dead walking to see them.

Your hands weren’t clean of blood by any means, but you had done what had been necessary, and because of it you remained breathing. And so did Judith and RJ, of whom had fallen under the care of you and Daryl amidst the cold and imposing effects of the reality that they had both been born into. It was never expected for your mind to conclude on the realisation that you desired a child of your own, however it was constantly plaguing you, like a fever that you just couldn’t shake.

But it was another daunting responsibility that you would need to protect, and it was more important to prioritise those that were already around you. Whilst you had never sought out something for yourself after the end of the world unless it was a product of vitality, you couldn’t be selfish in that way. You were well aware that with time your clock was ticking, for each day you were getting older, and at any moment the unexpected could end your life, but seeing the parents walking through Commonwealth with their own bundles of blood in their arms forced your heart to yearn.

You loved Judith and RJ, and of course Dog, with your entire being, and you would do anything that they required from you, and so you became mercilessly frustrated with yourself for secretly wanting more. There was no conclusion on how, if you were to, to mention your maternal cravings to Daryl, you were companions who had been through hell together and shared the same bed. To those on the outside, it would look like you were the parents of one small but happy family.

And to some degree you were. But they knew that you were auntie y/n and uncle Daryl, and sadly enough, the last family that they had, apart from Carol. Everyone else was gone, either cooped up in the rebuild of Alexandria, or dead. All that remained was unceremoniously precious, and you weren’t willing to so much as give up even a smidge of what you had desperately salvaged. The earth was in in-emendable ruins, but parts of your own world remained, and whilst your ovaries wanted to expand the metaphorical horizon of which you loved, you were content even whilst you were passively brooding.

Your thoughts were instantly shaken from your skull when you heard the front door open and close. It was late in the eve, Daryl had been out completing his responsibilities throughout the daytime, whilst you had been occupied with your unrealistic daydreams, and doing absolutely nothing else besides keeping a watchful eye on the Grimes children. And your lack of incomplete household chores made you feel disposable, and you were aware that Daryl wouldn’t care, but you still felt pathetically guilt ridden.

Dog abandoned his resting place which had been beside your feet to greet the archer, his tail excitedly wagging, as you remained in your attempts of forcing your lonesome pondering away. You stood in defiance to appear as though nothing was bothering you, it was a routine on your part to wait for Daryl to get home, even if the kids were in bed like they were tonight. As you neared the door where the man was ruffling the fur behind the loyal canine’s ears, you could see the exhaustion that weighed heavily beneath Daryl’s eyes. It hadn’t been a good day for him, clearly it had been long and agitating.

“Supper’s in the kitchen.” No doubt he was hungry, and so you had scraped together whatever was edible so that there could be food on the table. It was still strange to you that you no longer had to ransack empty homes and stores, or hunt to keep your stomach full. Times had certainly changed, and you sent Daryl a small yet somewhat forced smile as you hugged your middle with your own arms. The man stood up straight as he squinted in your direction, examining your form. It was stupid to think that you could try and hide anything from him, your wishful thinking was a detrimental shield for the unrealistic desires that lingered on your mind. You were only taunting yourself further and worrying your domestic companion.

Dog watched with tilted ears as Daryl strode toward you, tipping your chin upwards with his forefinger to subdue your eyes with meeting his. “Somethin’s botherin’ you.” It wasn’t a question, he needn’t have if there was a live wire alight in your brain, he knew you too well. “Y/n, you can tell me anythin’, ya know that.” A part of you felt guilty, he was exhausted, and if you’d have just gone to bed rather than waiting up for his return, then he would have been none the wiser. You were certain that he would view your dreams as circumstantially foolish, he not only knew how great the responsibility of caring for and protecting a child was, but that were too many risks that threatened the the health and overall life of the mother.

Without strict medical structures within the communities that had formed after the outbreak which was dealt with a tough comparison against the government ran hospital facilities, options that could aid during a pregnancy were very slim. Almost nonexistent in fact. The both of you had bore as mourning witnesses to Lori’s fate which was sympathetically horrific, it was an enormous gift that Judith remained well and breathing considering that she would have cut it close to a short and youthful life if it hadn’t have been for Maggie, who was now a mother to her own son.

Everyone had moved on somehow from the dark events that had implored themselves with terrible timing, and now you were ready to do the same. Nothing could hold you back, other than the sadistic rejection that you feared Daryl would meet your idea with. Your mouth felt dry, as though somebody had rubbed sandpaper upon your tongue, as you opened your lips, preparing every imaginable possibility to spew desperately in the form of many passionate words. But there was only a straightforward statement that abjured from you. “I want a baby.” You said with your head bowed down in a likeliness of shame.

The silence that prevailed had you feeling resentful of yourself and uncomfortable. It coiled in a cruel grasp around your shoulders, and you could only apologise profusely for your honest communication. “I’m sorry Daryl, god I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have sprung that on you like that.” The tears that dwelled in your eyes befuddled your vision; things were more than fine the way they were, and you just had to go and ruin it with your selfish impulses. “Forget I said anythin’,” you fearfully demanded, rubbing your damp eyes with the curve of your palm.

The dream that you had was nothing more than an epiphany of your greatest delusions, it was never going to happen. Whilst you felt largely incomplete, you felt guilty for the plague that you had erupted in Daryl’s mind, you couldn’t even dare to look at him. It was expected that if you did you would only be met with a flavour of emotions. The worst of them would be disappointment. You had never let Daryl down, and you had always been profusely loyal, but you deemed that all to be over now. If only you hadn’t been poisoned by the sins of greed, you wouldn’t have felt significantly judged by your better half.

With self sufficiency blending the lines that your sight gravitated towards on the floorboards as you attempted to brush past Daryl and escape the suffocating room, you felt his hand grab gently at the inner crook of your elbow. You became tense from the contact that you were normally no stranger to, afraid that he would guide you to the front door. But he didn’t, his stature remained still as he hoisted your chin up with his pointer finger again. “Don’ walk away y/n/n.” He inwardly gulped as you failed to recognise the glint that twinkled in his oceanic eyes. His mouth wavered as he too tried to pronounce the reeling of his brain. Daryl cleared his throat, attracting his body closer to your own.

You were almost shaking from the desolate nerves that scrutinised worrisome aura; he’d confided in you about the hardships of his youth. Had been selfish of you to have shared such an intimate aspect of the inclinations that your inner demons harboured. “Shit.” The curse fell from his lips, and you were no to being a witness to Daryl struggling to express how he was really feeling. Your expectations were for him to condone you with a faucet of repulse - he’d never have the intention of being your sexual partner again out of fear of putting an infant bun in your abdominal oven. There were always risks of an unwanted pregnancy in the apocalypse where any preventions were scarce. But you wanted this, and you highly doubted that he ever would.

“I don’ know how ta say this…” He had you hanging off the edge of a cliff with dreaded suspense. His exterior was a nervous wreck, he chewed with irrational refuge at his thumb as he was lost in a purgatory of speechlessness. “I…, um.” He stuttered over his southern accent, shaking his head at himself. There was never a time that he couldn’t confide in you, so why was he suddenly so apprehensive? All he needed to do was ogle in the familiarity of your eyes, and then the torturing weight was removed from his chest. “I’m ready to be a father and you’ll be the best mother.” He confessed nervously with tenderness, his heart beating with pure and innocent love.

Each of the survivalist quirks that you had adapted throughout were attributes that Daryl adored about you - he had never perceived himself to be a man that would fall in love, but here he was, gouging the elated expression that had cracked unto the lines of your face with his eyes. In the swallowing depths of the devastating apocalypse, there was no need for labels, reciprocating live for one another was enough. It was rare and pure to have love like what you and Daryl shared even before the world had fallen into unmendable shambles, you were so very lucky on the planet that had been overtaken by the dead.

“I love you Dixon.” Your confidence had returned to your previously nervous bones, as you licked your top lip in a moment of sultry thought that would condemn you from entering a church without sunning, and the notion did not go unnoticed by Daryl. His piercing azure gaze imbedded wistful daggers into your naked tongue, which only prompted you to teasingly stroke it against your opposing lip. In little to no time the strong archer shot forwards, grappling your maternal hips in his sturdy hands as he fought effectively to suck your tongue into his own mouth.

He stroked it passionately with his own vocalising muscle, making your head spin from the excitable onslaught of thoughts of what was to come. Hopefully him inside of you, the filthy corners of your mind prayed like a desperate whore, as the prospect of growing his child within you hit your hormonal drive hard. The process of procreating the baby that you desired so much hadn’t even resonated as a priority as silly as it may have sounded. Just carrying that bundle of untarnished flesh and infant limbs would bring you joy enough, and fulfil all in life that you had assumed would surpass you. “Love ya too y/l/n.” He said as he broke away from the impactful, rhythmic collision course of your conjoined lips.

Daryl missed the feeling of them already, but he knew how your mind had a habit of running wild if it wasn’t grounded securely, and thus his palm steadied a hold upon your waist, pressing you’d chests obscurely close together. “Bedroom.” The word escapes you as an instinctive order, filling the brief break that hung in the air as you shared a heavy breath. With no coordination, your feet stumbled through your home, careful to keep some quiet on your intentional route as to not disturb the the kids from their slumbers. Somehow you had navigated yourselves to the room that was occupied by the bed that Daryl often held you in as you drifted off into a rest, and he closed the door in an attempt to be as silent as possible behind you both.

Being in here with a lustrous purpose awoke something inside of you; this could finally be it, the amorous event that turned you into a mother! There was nothing that could contain your excitement, including your comfortable cotton panties, you were pathetically soaked from the arousal that pooled with momentous desperation in your underwear. Your skin was boiling to the touch, and only Daryl would be aware of the flush temperature that your body was running. His large fingers brushed down your inner thighs, eliciting a shuddered gasp to puncture through the bared enforcement of your clenched teeth. It almost felt scandalous as you touched one another with an intention of more than sex.

The reality that had been nothing else but a tempted dream was to be possible, that was if you could in fact carry a child to full term. This was the fear talking as a devilsome voice in your head, there was no contending culprit, however the sadistic qualms that it brought up had a viable point. Those trained in the medical field were scarce to come by, and whilst there was a resident doctor in the Commonwealth, there were still the hurdles of limited medicines. It made sense that that you were becoming a worrier, you had been enduring the role of the strong yet cautious guardian for Judith and RJ in a time that felt so long that preventing any arising risks had almost become second nature to you.

“Don’ think about it sunshine.” Daryl knew you better than the back of his hand, and his observations of your overthinking behaviour had paid off, you could feel the weight from your shoulders fall as you listened to his words. They were soothing, a wave of calmness across the storm that crashed in your brain, a constant reminder that he would keep you and the living legacy of your old friend Rick Grimes alive. That was why you had fallen for the redneck in the first place, he was not only a loyal soldier whom was willing to risk his own life for his friends, but he also was your source of all reason. “Jus’ feel, don’t think.”

His words held a temptation that you couldn’t resist, as did the grip of his hands that swallowed the curve of your hips; there was hardly an occurrence that he could not hold you steady during, although the rare moment was creeping upon the two of you like the overhanging shade of a tree’s natural canopy. “Make me feel all of you then Daryl.” He did not restrain himself, you’d offered yourself to him, and he was never one to resist your body. There was a burning and wanton aggravation pooling in the destination of his chest, the archer lunged forwards with a distinctive growl.

The weight of his body launched yours back so that you were positioned on the mattresses just as the man wanted, laid out all vulnerable and ready for Daryl to prevail merch within your form. Simply the thought of impregnating you had the ability to make Daryl’s head dizzy, it was an arousing image to picture you full and round with his little redneck spawn. He already thought you were ethereally beautiful, but the prospect of you being the physical shelter for your human creation would transform you into a literal goddess. He was becoming rabid, like a starving animal that hadn’t eaten in weeks, and you were the only present source to quench his damning hunger.

The tip of his tongue tantalisingly stroked along the column of your throat; you looked intoxicatingly pretty beneath him, and Daryl was getting impatient with the long and drawn out foreplay. Your left breast was fondled in the side grasp of Daryl’s palm, and your face felt flush from the chaos whisked tsunami that rotated your blood within your body. All of this touching with no orgasmic outcome was making you not only disgruntled and impatient but lightheaded too. “I need you to put a baby in me.” You spoke with the intention of sounding dominant and full of copious confidence, however it escaped form you as a tender whimper. The tone that you had used seemed to spur Daryl on, prompting him to finally get to work.

Swift motions left you in a state of undress, distorted in the bare exposure of nudity that made Daryl fixated on every inch of your flesh. He kissed each limb, every scar until your shoulders were shuddering from suspense, and eventually his mouth drifted lower, causing your thighs to tremble. Daryl was face to face with your sopping centre, his eyes ogling at your perfectly constructed folds as he salivated from his own thirst to lather your sweet juices on his tastebuds. It felt like a precious moment to spark pleasure through each cell in your body; there was a chance that spilling his cum into your walls could depict a new path for the both of you - parenthood. Daryl needed to feel the breathtaking vice grip of your tight cunt squeezing his girthy cock, however it was his intention to make you already have the blissful aftershocks of an orgasm prior to him entering you.

This was your special moment, and you deserved to be treated like a queen during it. Lingering butterfly kisses were sporadically placed on the inside of your thighs, his teeth delicately scuffing on the meat of your legs, provoking your desires until you began thrusting your hips towards his face, trying to instigate Daryl into speeding up his loving touches until it escalated into something more. You must have been blessed with some kind of grace since Daryl stroked his slick tongue across your pussy, moaning onto your mound from your addictive wetness. Without any warning Daryl slithered a thick finger through your welcoming entrance, which made your skull fall defeatedly into the pillow that supported it.

It had been close to a fortnight from the last intimate instance that you and Daryl had exchanged, and that lacking span of time involving your sex life together had made you tight. Your pussy walls were hugging onto his singular digit as it worked its way in and out of you, refusing to release it in fear of having to survive without Daryl’s hands for another two weeks. That wouldn’t be the case in your present circumstance, the presence of his mouth joining in on the fun that his right index was having as his lips wrapped around his your clit vowed just as much. To observe that with a quietened moan and harsh bite to your lower lip, it was a signal to Daryl that you were enclosing to your high. It wouldn’t be long now, and adventurously he added another finger within you to be company for his other.

The stretch that his fingers made you feel almost had you in tears. You were already threading your hands through his wavy locks, tugging at the roots to express the sweet contortion of pleasure that belittled you. Daryl was a practised genius when it came to knowing the landscape of your body, his eyes gouged every reaction that he pulled from you into his memory. He was addicted to making you feel good, and so he acted begrudgingly with a forlorn huff as he withdrew his fingers from your heat. They were sewed with your own personal glaze, shiny from the interior of your count which he was eager to impale with his aching length. To be inside of you was an escape from the dystopian reality that mankind was haphazardly tossed into, and he relished in every break from it that he was able to spend with you.

“Daryl!” The meandering frustration spewed out from your mouth which the man half atop of you adored, but his reflexes were fast enough to cause him to slap his hand over your mouth, aware that your noise was a risk of waking the sleeping children in the household. They were far too young for the talk, and Daryl ironically felt the same when it came to explaining it. He wasn’t a father… not yet anyway, and it felt almost intrusive to be the one as to decide when Judith and RJ had adult activities explained to them. He’d rather get on with being their remaining guardian than stepping into the shoes of their father whom had been a dead friend of his. He hoped the same as you that Rick was alive, and in the case of that, he would reserve the dreaded talk for him.

“Ya gotta be quiet peach.” Daryl reminded you, foreseeing the morning that followed the current eve where you would be kicking yourself if your whines sparked curiosity upon Judith. He gently released his clasp that his palm had over your mouth, softly running his moist thumb across the area of your bottom lip, vigilantly slipping it to be resting on your tongue. You suckled delicately on the calloused pad of flesh, staring with faux innocence that drove him mad. “Think yer cute, don’ cha?” The rasp of his voice rumbled in his chest as he leant down, allowing his lips to mumble against your flesh. “You’re real fuckin’ cute sunshine, look even cuter when I fuck our baby inta ya.” There was no room for him to deny it now; he had without a singular doubt thought about beating you with the gift of a child previously, if not multiple.

Daryl could be guarded at times, but even if he wasn’t vocal about the runnings of his mind, his actions always showed that he cared. There’d been nobody that he could open up pre-apocalypse, not even Merle as he had had the habit of oversharing his judgemental opinions without concern for upsetting the feelings of others. But with you, he could lower his walls and still feel safe. He was enamoured by the beauty of your soul, he felt like the luckiest man alive to have you by his side. You were like an angel whom was stripped of her wings and forced to walk among the walkers and remaining humans.

“Do it.” You begged desperately once he had removed his thumb from its balance on your tongue, tears pricking with threat in your eyes. “Please, please, please fuck me Dar.” Whilst your words were sharp with gouging intent for Daryl to mercilessly rail your insides into orgasmic obliteration, your tone was hushed, since you knew that the bowman would force you to wait even longer if you ushered above a whispered sound. And if that were to be the prevailing sentence which you served, then you would surely combust. You could not wait any longer, and so you could do no more than continue your symphony of begging. “Jus- just need you to cum inside me and keep filling me up ‘til you knock me up. I need to carry your baby…”

The world was spinning, your dream consciously making every avid sound cascade with profuse focus in your eardrums. The metallic clank that riveted around the room had your bloodstream flowing with wild vigour; it was the noise of Daryl unbuckling and discarding his belt, the rugged sight of witnessing him undress causing another wave of lustful discharge to lather your lady parts. Your own body was on instinct preparing itself to physically wield his mushroom tipped length within its walls, and you were grateful for that, seeing as his wife girth to this day after countless times of fucking throughout your years of companionship still took adjusting to.

His scarred flesh became uncovered as he stripped piece by piece of tethered clothing, the old marks strained atop of his skin in the gloomy shadows of the room. Daryl was aware of them, but only vacantly in your presence. As he shoved his boxers and utile trousers down and off his hips, he rose his head to be glowering at you. But it wasn’t with dominance, it was a fluorescence of tranquil ice blue that heart-fully admired each minor aspect of your appearance; from the crinkles created from expressions of joy on your face to the speckles of randomly dotted freckles around your pores (some of which were so minuscule that he had to squint as though he were looking through a telescope), Daryl always felt like his breath had been taken away each time that he turned his head in your direction.

It didn’t help that you were as naked as the first day of when humans began to roam the earth, your flaws were bare to the eye as were the streaked memories of past injuries. Those very scars however were evidence that throughout the difficult hardships that you had been cruelly handed before and after the dead had risen in ungodly ways, you remained. There had been no justice, and some all at the same time; the sick minded individuals that had strewn chaos upon the surviving communities as though they were swimming through oxygen had met the dire consequences of their dictating actions. Vengeance that you and Daryl and others had rationed out was never swiftly executed, despite earning victories with expenses, none of you had got away without more than scrapes. Immense torture contaminated you all mentally and physically - a harsh line was sharply drawn from the thinner flesh along your rib cage, the violent line work meeting at the middle section of your sternum.

It was one of many marks that you carried, however the biggest mark you had was on your heart. It was like Daryl had precisely struck you through the heart as though he was Cupid with one of his crossbow bolts, he had tainted your affection towards him without even having to try, he had just been himself and that was the best version of him that there was. He had changed and that was for certain, but you would be concerned if he hadn’t after all the shit you’d faced. You weren’t the same person either, the thick and thin of your triumphs moulded an armour of resilience. In the past life that you had lived you had held no priorities of mothering children, you had ensured through reliable contraception and carefulness that the possibility would not present itself.

It was made that in an ended world that your desires could shift so dramatically, it was the unexpected that forced you to carry on towards a brighter future. And that path was in the process of being mapped out, there was no blueprint, only two bodies that could harmoniously create another. Flesh on flesh when it came to the living was a profound risk for conception, there were methods that you and Daryl followed previously that had complied to avoiding the inevitable that meandered the both of you away from being parents. Now all of that wasn’t necessary, you had earned yourselves a grand slice of piece, and this was it.

“Ya ready sunshine?” The chalky rasp of his voice gently pried as he shifted to manoeuvre atop of you on the simple bed, his eyes that held years worth of every emotion that silently telling you that it was okay if you changed your mind or wanted to reschedule your sexual efforts of conceiving. Rather than speak straight away, you ran your hand across his curved hip, the notion was intimate as you reached to grasp his pulsating cock in your palm, softly applying pressure as you twisted your wrist in motions to grant Daryl a rush of adrenaline throughout his nether regions. He bared his teeth as he hissed, infinitely having flashbacks to the first time you had manhandled him.

“Yeah. I think that we’re both ready Dixon.” You had always had a smart mouth, and Daryl huffed and rolled his eyes at the little ‘innocent’ giggle that you had gifted his ears with. He moved to brush his thighs against your own as he reevaluated his position of straddling you, pulling your legs apart so that he could slot his body straight between them. Your centre was enchanting to his aching erection, and Daryl could not await any longer. He had been diversely patient, and somehow had managed to control himself all through it. Daryl held his length in his dominant hand, running the engorged tip along the outskirts of your vulva and dragging the head around your clit.

It made you squirm frivolously under Daryl as he sweetly teased you to make sure that you were ready to take him. But your words put a stopper to his tantalising game, and finally give each of you what you were hungering for. “Put it in Dar, please. I fucking need you inside me so bad.” Whilst your voice was not loud it spoke volumes to Daryl’s brain, and finally he prodded his cock at your slick entrance, taking his time sliding into you. The twitch of your cunt’s trembling walls as he began to sheathe his girth into you was making your lover lightheaded, you were so tight and it derived animalistic and strung out groans from his warm throat.

He had sank so deeply into your cervix that you were already feeling close, it was heaven to feel so full. His sternly knuckled fists framed a bracket on either side of your face, his hair was draped and hanging down like the branches of a soulful willow tree, some of the sun kissed strands tickled at your nose. Your hands found their resting placement on the bouldering structure of his defined shoulders, the nails on your fingers leaving indented crescent moon shapes on his skin in their wake. There was no distance in between your abdomens as you were pressed together, your legs tangled around Daryl’s waist, appreciating the motionless moment that you were sharing.

“Gonna move now,” Daryl made you aware so that you would not be surprised by his administrative thrusts that would undoubtedly churn a pool of ecstatic pleasure in the pit of your stomach. The crossbow archer leant slightly back, dragging his wide cock closer to the exit of your pussy, you grappled with needy loss and misery at his muscled arms, wantonly needing him to return to reaching the sensitive spot inside of you. Your agonisingly aroused pleas and prayers were answered when Daryl pivoted forwards, knocking all oxygen out from your lungs as you frustratedly chewed your bottom lip, needing to scream out and wail his name but knowing that you couldn’t.

He had started a pace, one that was not too fast or too slow. He was quite literally rocking your world, obscuring your vision with dizzying light spots in the corners of your eyesight, as you laid there restlessly, your nerves indignantly contorting the control that you had on your own limbs. Daryl chose to handle the battle that your legs were putting on his own terms, raising your legs in the air so that he could wind your ankles around the behind of his neck. One of his large veined hands sloped onto your calf, holding you captive by your own free will whilst his tense balls roughly slapped against your ass.

From the altering of your intimate position, the upper half of your body was pinned flat upon the mattress, your hands now empty of Daryl’s broad shoulders. Your torso and above it was completely on display for Daryl to appreciate, and to distort his beaded pupil focus even further, you teasingly cupped your breasts that wee already bouncing with perkish sin. Daryl’s tongue stroked his dry lip, as he tried to refrain from insulting any expectation that you had held onto for the length of your creative lovemaking session. “Y-y/n, I ain’t gonna-“ With an outstretched arm, you grabbed his bicep with as much strength that you could muster, frantically nodding your head in muted agreement.

“Me too honey.” Your strained sentence fell gracefully from your lips in the same smooth fashion as an upturned sand timer, the grains of your bliss swiftly contracted within your centre, strangling Daryl’s struggling cock with the labours of your orgasm. “Fuck.” You stuttered out as your eyes crossed and then closed, causing you to accidentally miss the state that Daryl was in; flushed temples, dripping sweat and a crinkled nose from trying to hold off his inevitable release. He almost pulled out on methodic impulse, but remembering what this was all for compelled him to refrain. And so, once the aftershocks of your high hand roused you into an ordeal of sensitivity, he let go.

Rope after rope of his release entered your maternal system, it was the first time that he had ever down so, and Daryl realised that he would never be able to cum elsewhere every again. He’d give you a million babies if it meant he got to do it every time. “Holy shit.” Daryl moaned with your legs still around his neck. He laid his chest atop of you, nuzzling his face against your collarbone. You laughed lightly and breathlessly whilst combing your fingertips through his hair. “Ain’t nothing holy about it baby.” You countered, watching astoundingly as he raised his head and your eyes met. “Same time tomorrow?” You queried, feeling hopeful at the prospect of something new and in the shape of a newborn.

There was nothing left to live for in this estranged life where infection was not the greatest risk, being mauled apart by walkers was, or the graphically dark libation of execution. You had to find some light that would make your eyes shine with illuminated happiness until you died, otherwise none of the consequential hurdles were worth the masterful sorrow that they had eternally etched behind your eyes. It all had to stand for something; the possibility of not only having a future but also creating one for the younger generations. You would do anything for the child that was not yet formed in your womb, nothing would happen to them on Daryl’s or your own account. Whenever they presented themself as a life form inside of you, it would be the peace that you and Daryl had each searched for even before the outbreak.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

"We—we gotta talk 'bout somethin'," Daryl said suddenly. You had noticed that he was nervous all night, and it had you slightly on edge, but he'd been just as affectionate as he always was when the two of you were alone. Now, you were tucked in against him on the couch and his arm was around you, his finger aimlessly drawing circles on your shoulder and upper arm. At his words you straightened up and turned to face him more fully.

"Okay," you said, mustering the best tight smile you could.

"It's—s'bout The Commonwealth," he drawled, avoiding your eyes.

"Mhm," you hummed, waiting for him to go on.

He ruffled his free hand through his wavy hair and you watched a tight expression cross his face. "I think—I think I need to go there with the kids," he said finally. "And—I know ya gotta stay here to help Alexandria. I know that. But for Judith and RJ... s'the righ' thing for 'em." Finally, his blue eyes lifted and met yours and there was desperation in them. His voice came out in a tight whisper. "Please dun make me choose."

Your mouth dropped open and you hurried to clasp his face between your hands. "Oh, Daryl—hey. You don't have to choose," you soothed him. I'm not her, you wanted to say. Leah. "I think you're right," you said. He looked surprised.

"...Really?"

You nodded. "Yes. Of course. It is the right thing for Jude and RJ. There's reliable food, other kids, a school... And yes, I need to stay here for the rebuilding but—it's temporary. There's nothing to choose between. We'll make it work. We always do..."

Daryl's eyes searched your face, looking at you in vague wonder. You always made things so easy. He wasn't used to it. "What'd I do to deserve ya?" he drawled.

"Plenty," you smiled.

Prompt: "Please don't make me choose."

[gladiatorcunt]

- # 🎰 All or Nothing (Ace in the Hole) !!

cw: afab!reader, breeding, implied murder, inaccurate fallout au (vault inspired by Fallout 76 bc i just wanted one mention of appalachian horror vibes), reader lowkey has a old man fetish (mentions of age gaps though no specific men are mentioned), childhood best friends to strangers to lovers (forcibly), future extreme dubcon, fallout typical sexism and expectations & creepy behavior (attempted grooming (?)), biblical undertones, ambiguous time period, implied southern setting & characters, unedited

1k event / commissions

It’s been so quiet for ages now, deathly silent as if everyone in the world was perfectly sound asleep. Your world consists of metal tunnels buried deep underground, a myriad of dark rooms that are meant to simulate the life you’re supposed to have on the surface. A cafeteria, where there’s hearty chuckles and playful ribbing over food even astronaut’s would have turned their noses up at. Piles of meat the same color as a fresh corpse, slightly moldy cheese and bread on the days the ego maniac people in charge are feeling fancy.

Green Houses, meeting rooms, infirmarys, kitchens, breeding rooms bedrooms, you truly have it all in vault 426. Jewel of the Texas Commonwealth. Even the howling coming from above like a hailstorm can be soothing when you have nothing else to listen to. They say your name when your back is turned, when they know you can’t venture out to see them. The temptation has driven people mad before, it will again. Right now, you wander through the vault searching for any sign of life. Yesterday you were arguing with your Ma over what she had done, hitching your wagon to one of the few unclaimed men your age. Now you were wishin’ on stars the elders used to talk about seein’ that you would peek around the rusting corner to find her waiting. You don’t want to wonder why there’s blood on the wall, varying between bright and darker shades of red.

Not a single peep from the man you were meant to marry, ‘your last chance at a proper purpose’ Pa had said. This vault wasn’t strongly steered in the direction of being a hive for breeding, but in these uncertain times more pairs of hands ready to rebuild the world were more than encouraged. Seeing as this bubble of refuge from the acid sky was so precious, every life counts. You knew that future would be yours someday, and you didn’t really mind. It got boring occasionally in the vault, knitting the same garment again and gossiping with your Ma’s friends about the same subjects. Maybe a cock in your cunt would settle your nerves, caring for a baby would be a task that would never end.

The wedding was supposed to be today, at noon on the dot. You overslept, panicking when your kitschy alarm clock didn’t rouse you from your dreamless sleep. It wasn’t until you zipped up your blue and yellow suit and tip toed outside of your room that you truly felt afraid. What reason would you have had to feel the uncomfortable emotion before? Life was so serene and idyllic nestled in the dirt, your vault a poor man’s sword in the stone. An intoxicating comfort zone that you cared more about staying in than fighting against, though there whispers from dwellers who felt otherwise. Your childhood friends, Patrick and Art, who you have drifted apart from over the years.

It was childish, your past feelings of jealousy, it wasn’t hard for them to become the most eligible bachelors in the community. There were only a handful of single young men left these days, or your only option was a old timer who had already broken in quite a few wives. They have the chipped belts and rough hands to prove it, you’ve gotten a rush of fluid in between your thighs when you lie awake and think about it for too long. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too terribly awful if you got saddled with a stern older man, some beaten down part of your brain begs for it. Your Pa’s buddies used to say that they would bet good money on tight your velvet grip would be.

There were many invitations to sit in on their blackjack games left unanswered in your Ma’s nightstand, under brass lock and key.

But to see your friends be giggled and fawned over made your stomach churn, so you pushed them away and focused on living as any good dweller would. Preparing to spend your years with your lips frozen in a smile and your holes split open around wrinkly skin, your shape molded by your husband. If you could’ve known that that would only make more determined to prove their toughness to you, that they would be the hands clasping pearls around your neck and slamming their dicks into your untouched flesh.

“Aw, hell-” A deep voice gasps and grabs ahold of your fore arms, wrestling you into an abandoned bedroom as you walk past.

You squawk, flapping your arms around in an effort to fight. Then you see him, Art, smiling gently and reaching out to cup your tear covered cheek. His other hand is free, which means that the man restraining you has to be Patrick. Where one is, the other will he close behind. There’s a saying about smoke and fire, and you hear the crackling embers as Art gingerly slides his other hand around your neck. A new fangeled set of pearls, hard won and all yours. Call it an engagement present.

“There you are, Angel Face, we were so damn worried about you.” Art coos, the ‘damn’ hissed in a way that gives off a ‘I still haven’t got used to being allowed to swear’ impression.

You think he could the be the angel, a scythe discarded in favor of a well used hatchet lying on the floor. His blood splattered curls call to you, or the absurdity of the situation must be sinking in and overpowering your ability to accept reality. Of course you had sensed their hungry eyes burning holes into your soul, yes you had heard the shuffling and muffled shouts outside your door. The way it would creak open when you were believe to have succumb to slumber. You don’t feel bored, and that’s enough of a thrill for you to recognize where your new place in the food chain is. The bottom.

“I don’t- I- What’s goin’ on? Where is everybody?” You ask, stupid and content to be their lover in distress.

Patrick readjusts his hold on you and wraps his arms fully around you, spinning you around to come face to face with him. If you thought Art looks drenched in blood, Patrick appears to be made of it. There’s lightning in his eyes, a phenomenon you’ve only heard and never seen. But this must be what it’s like, electrifying and God given. You’re stained now, no doubt about it, visibly and in your spirit.

“They went nuts, like a bunch of rabid dogs.” He grunts. “We had to defend ourselves, had us out here runnin’ around like headless chickens because you were gone.”

You weren’t brought up to know much, except that animals will be animals and man reacts accordingly. Patrick’s words make about as much sense as anything ever could, and you’re desperate to believe whatever yarn they have to spin you. Art nods and saunter up behind you. He wetly pecks you on the cheek, his lips ‘Smack!’ing the plump skin as he pulls back. You gasp and they share a foreboding laugh, shoving you further down a long dusty hallway where you can pretend that nothing bad has ever happened to you. That your Virgil and Dante followed after you with innocent intent.

“Get ‘em in the stirrups, Pat. Need these legs spread nice and wide. Don’t we, sugarpie?”

Your heart drops and floats back up at a jackrabbit’s pace, “W-what?”

Your look over your shoulder is perfectly timed, your hair framing your face like a pre-war Hollywood starlet. The kind that could cry at the drop of a hat and deep throat a stuffy executive’s cock in one go. Simmering heat pools in your belly, every circle of hell seemingly setting themselves aflame in your body. And while you know they wouldn’t dare seriously terrify you, they would probably get a kick in their pants if you let a sliver of fear slip. They’re men who no longer have a societies rules to wear as if they were costumes after all, perfectly chiseled faces and painted masks.

Offering you a marriage license so they plant you in a gilded cage, but Midas ghosted his fingers along your roots years ago. When you stumbled in on two boys playing a game that used to be popular in the pre-war days, a yellow-green fuzzy ball bouncing on a wired net racket. You giggled when an elder scolded them for staging their challengers match in the hall. And with the sound of a bell, the walls came tumblin’ down.

Patrick’s grin writes your name on the dotted line, “Our pretty lil’ cock socket, we’ll repopulate in no time at all.”

They had already stolen your wedding outfit that same day way back when, slim pickings have to be snatched up in this dog eat bitch world. But they were something far above dogs with malleable forms and a blunter bite, they were opportunists and God always has his eye on those who can seize what he provides.

The House always wins.

- 2024, do not cop/translate/feed my work to ai

[cultofdixon]

You’ll always be important to me

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • When you and Daryl started your own little family, Judith thought that meant everything was changing. But she will always be a part of their family • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy & Birth Mentioned / Anxiety / Sleep Deprivation / Minor Injuries • Commonwealth canon re-written

Requested by: Anon

“Run that back?”

“I’m pregnant, D…”

Daryl looks at his wife a bit taken back by what she said. The silence ate Y/N alive when he didn’t say anything in response after she stated supposedly good news a second time.

Then she was suddenly brought into his embrace feeling the archer tighten his grasp on her carefully.

“We’re gonna be parents…holy shit. We’re havin’ a baby” Daryl lets out a chuckle as he held her close feeling her latch onto him.

“Our family is getting bigger…”

~

“She’s having a baby?” Judith questions once more to Daryl watching the man nod as she gave him a blank stare followed by silence.

Before he could even question what could be going on in that mind of hers, the young Grimes went in for a hug that he happily returned.

“You and Y/N are going to be great parents”

They kind of…already were because the two took in the Grimes kids when Michonne left on this unknown journey that only Judith knew was to find Rick. Daryl was always Rick and Michonne’s first option when it came to taking their kids in any way. Judith has always been the archer’s adoptive daughter in a way that everyone knew, and Y/N has told him every time they just thought about having kids of their own that he will be great because Judith was his first kid.

She always will be

Even when she has her doubts

The first two months into pregnancy were a bit stressful because Alexandria had just suffered a herd going through it and the news of this new community surfaced. Which lead to a possible ally ship that Eugene, Ezekiel, and Yumiko were being the voices for Alexandria to acquire such. Of course Carol will help in her own way to make sure this community wasn’t going to stab them in the back in any way, but for now their promise of helping Alexandria rebuild itself sounded promising. They even offered housing in their community for those who wanted it until their community is rebuilt. As long as they did their part.

Which is only fair. But it wasn’t going to be easy to try and convince an already anxious person to move into unknown territory.

“No”

“But Y/N—-“

“I’m pregnant! It’s an unknown community! My brother is here, my family is here, why would you—-“

“Jude and RJ are comin’ with us. And Aaron will visit but he’s takin’ lead from the Alexandria’s side on the rebuild”

“Why can’t we help—-“

“Because you’re pregnant and Commonwealth has the resources”

“Resources?! We have—-“

“NOT IF SOMETHING BAD HAPPENS TO YEA!” Daryl yells, which was met with instant regret given the flinch that he drew out of his wife. “I’m sorry…I’m really sorry for snappin’. I just. I can’t lose you…I can’t. Lose. You.” He tried his best to contain his anxiety that was picking at him to get him to sob as Y/N brought herself close bringing her arms around his middle.

“Daryl…Nothin’ bad is gonna happen to me. Or our baby. Or our kids…we’ll be safe…”

“Please Y/N…we don’t have to live there forever. Just until Alexandria is rebuilt…Aaron will come and get us when it’s done.”

Y/N held her husband while all his anxiety continued to radiate off him as she rests her chin on his chest looking up at him.

“Okay”

“Okay?”

“Yes…but I’m not raising our baby in the Commonwealth. Once we are both fit, and Alexandria is back in working order…we come home”

“I promise, sunshine” Daryl presses a kiss to her forehead before her cheek ending with one on her lips. But he wasn’t letting go of her anytime soon. “Yea think they’d try anythin’?”

“I trust our people who found the community when they say to put some trust in this place. But I’m just. If something were to happen, Carol won’t leave us in the dark. None of them would”

“I’ll burn the place down if anythin’ happens to my family”

His wife laughs to such even if it were true that the archer would do such if it came to that. But thankfully, the entrance into this new community wasn’t too bad and that they would be updated occasionally on the rebuild by Y/N’s brother Aaron.

Their temp apartment was a bit small, but once Daryl finished training they put the family of five (including Dog) into a bigger place. One where Judith and RJ shared the other room and the adults obviously got their own.

“I look ridiculous”

“I think…as long as it protects my strong handsome husband from walkers…I think you’ll look fine” Y/N smiles waiting for Daryl to step out of the bathroom in his armor while she waited, Judith came in in the new dress she picked out when getting clothing for school. “Oh my god. You look beautiful! Come here look in the mirror!” She got up from the bed directing Judith into the full body mirror smiling even more when the young child started to smile.

“You think I’ll make friends?”

“Of course I do! You are a wonderful, smart, creative young woman that who wouldn’t be your friend?” Y/N smiles holding Judith close as she held her arms until she felt safe to let go or at least until Daryl stepped out in his armor.

“I really feel ridiculous” Daryl states joining the two in the mirror watching them both look at him. “What? You agree?”

“You look like a stormtrooper”

“What’s a stormtrooper?” Judith questions making Y/N laugh to herself forgetting she was born in the apocalypse.

“It’s what Uncle Daryl is. But Uncle Daryl is on the good side while stormtroopers were bad guys”

“Yknow. There’s a rental video place. I bet yea they’ve got Star Wars…Aunt Carol has a TV”

“I swear. This is a rare sighting, Daryl actually offering to watch Star Wars” Y/N elbows the man while letting go of Judith a moment.

“Never said I’m watchin’. Y’all can watch it with Carol”

“Sounds good. Carol is a better cuddle partner anyway” Y/N playfully jokes resulting in a glare and a scoff from the archer.

“Nah. You and I only cuddle”

“Jealous aren’t we Uncle Daryl?” Judith giggles a bit before leaving the two to make sure her brother was ready to go. Daryl felt the embarrassment upon admitting such bring the heat to the tips of his ears.

The woman laughs herself before bringing her husband in the mirror with her holding him from the side. He wrapped his arm around her bringing his lips to her temple.

“Wanna see something amazing before you take the kids to school?”

Daryl felt her pull away he always hated that feeling and watched her pull her sweater back enough to show that she popped.

“Now how the fuck am I supposed to go to work and focus when that’s gonna be on my mind all day” Daryl instantly brought Y/N close listening to her giggle as he gently rests his hand on her bump.

“You make it look like nothing”

“It’s somethin’, sunshine” Daryl smiles bringing her back into his embrace as she kept her face away from the armor not liking the new plastic smell.

This was nice. Experiencing the good domestic life…something people since the outbreak happened have longed for. The kids were enjoying school, Daryl was slowly rising in his job resulting in his family moving at least two more times in the new place, and given all the medical resources Y/N was healthy and so was their baby girl. Carol did more research and learned that the community did have an intense leader type before they joined and she was taken down by her own assistant who now helps run more of a council system like what they had at Alexandria. So the overwhelming anxiety about their safety lessened but it was still there.

“You’ve been put on bedrest for a reason”

“Did Daryl tell you to come here and just to tell me that?” Y/N scoffs letting Carol into their place.

“I don’t think you should be questioning when you’re not listening to doctor’s orders”

“Daryl left early and forgot to make lunches for the kids…so I had to. All I remember him telling me was you were going to take the kids…now you’re back”

“Cuz well he told me to keep an eye on yea and make sure you were in bed”

Y/N started to ignore her as she tiredly sits on the couch resting her hands on her belly. Carol brought herself in the kitchen to grab Y/N a glass of water before noticing the letters on the counter from Aaron. They weren’t anything bad, just what was promised of him to update her on Alexandria. And updates on Gracie, Maggie and Hershel adjusting,…their family back home. She was getting homesick and didn’t tell Daryl about it because of how great this place is and how he at least wants the baby to be delivered in a place built for it because Commonwealth did have a hospital. She’s just been keeping a lot of her feelings to herself which led to her stressing and the OB telling her to stay in bed.

“You know once the baby is here we get to go home” Carol assures her as she hands the glass while sitting beside her friend. “Once you two are strong enough, we’ll pack up and head home. I know Aaron will be excited to meet his niece”

The silence was killer and Carol couldn’t help but sense there was much more to it.

“Y/N…I won’t tell Daryl anythin’ you don’t want me to” and that prompted Y/N to finally make eye contact with her before quickly looking away. “Hun…”

“I don’t…I don’t want our kids feeling like, we don’t care about them when she comes. I…I know she’s going to be a priority but I’m just worried…”

“Y/N…Judith and RJ are so loved by you and Daryl. It would take killing the both of you to stop such. Even then I doubt you’ll ever stop. You’re bringing a baby into the world. They know it’ll take time to go back to the old routine. But even then, you love so much and I mean so fucking much. They’ll never forget it”

When the baby finally came, Carol brought the kids to meet her once it was okay to do so. And of course Daryl was hogging their baby because when the three entered the room also being greeted by Ezekiel, they noticed Daryl protectively holding his baby.

“I swear D. Has your wife, aka the baby’s mother, even got a chance to hold her?”

“Yeah” Daryl scoffs. “When she came out” he adds and that led to a bit of laughter to fill the room as he brought himself over to Judith and RJ kneeling before them to show the little girl sleeping peacefully in his embrace.

“She’s tiny” RJ comments as he looks at the child shocked on how the fuck this little human came into the world.

“What’s her name?”

“Robin” Y/N tiredly replies from the bed as Carol approaches her side smiling and brushing the loose hairs out of her face.

“You did good, mama” Carol smiles sitting with Y/N on her bed watching the display of Daryl with all three kids. “They’re going to be inseparable”

Robin Dixon was SWARMED when they finally returned to Alexandria. For Daryl’s anxiety, they waited for her to be a month old before moving back. Maggie and Aaron instantly went toward the child, as Aaron took said child from Daryl and before he could even try and get his daughter back Maggie cut between them.

“It’s our time with the newest addition”

“But—-“

“No buts! You took my sister away for almost a year and now I’m making up for that time with my niece”

“You’re gonna take my kid for almost a year?!”

“No! An hour at most” Aaron scoffs followed by a smirk as he knelt down to show his kid her cousin while Maggie showed Hershel their new family member.

Y/N felt overwhelmed with joy, fear, anxiety…all kinds of things. But she was happy to be home…even if some part of her fear was triggered by worry. Especially when she noticed Judith try and get Daryl’s attention when it’s so focused on this little baby. His baby.

Hours passed…the Dixons and Grimes were back in their house putting everything away and Y/N was thankful for the nursery being finished when they arrived. By help of Maggie. As Daryl started to get Robin to calm down to sleep, Y/N went to check on the Grimes kids. Finding RJ already passed out in his own bed, leaving her to check on Judith who sat on her bed looking at Carl’s hat in her hands.

“You happy to be in your old room again?” Y/N smiles leaning against the door when she noticed a few tears in the young girl’s eyes. “Hey…” her smile faded as she brought herself in closing the door not all the way before sitting beside Judith. “Love, what’s wrong?”

“I miss my mom…my dad…Carl…” Judith sniffled as she carefully hugged the hat while Y/N wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “I know change is normal and all…but I just. It’s been a month already and I feel like I’m just going to be forgotten about”

New baby. New environment. Y/N was still in that weird haze of unwelcome emotions do to hormones as she brought Judith close resting her head on top of hers.

“No one is going to forget you. You are very important to a lot of us. You are so loved and you are a huge part of why a lot of us got together. You are a big piece in our family, Jude”

“Then…wh…”

“Hm? What is it?”

“I know she’s bright and shiny, and his blood…but I just. Don’t think I’m that important to Uncle Daryl anymore”

Right before Y/N can assure her of anything, the door pushed open finding a semi tired RJ that was eavesdropping but also the archer standing behind him. The display made both girls think that RJ heard Judith was in distress in some way that she needed an adult. Which was the truth but he was looking for Y/N first, and found Daryl.

Now they’re here and Daryl felt awful hearing such as he enters with RJ who instantly sprinted to Y/N when he started making his way in.

“You are very important to me, Jude.” Daryl brought himself to sit on the opposite side of her as all of them were on the bed now. “Yeah, I’ve got a baby now…but in a sense, she’s not my first kid. I helped raise yea. Took care of yea. Made sure you had some sense of a childhood in this hell of a world…and did my best not to let you feel an ounce of abandonment when Michonne left. Same for RJ. Yeah…your mom will come back after she finds whatever she went out there for. But you’ll always be my kid”

Judith couldn’t contain the tears anymore as she sobbed into Daryl when he brought her into his embrace. He held her protectively…the same feeling…

Like when he first held her

[lesvegas]

@mutfruit-salad pointed out that fo3 canonically ends with the capital wasteland getting clean water and the chance to rebuild, fo4 ends with the institute destroyed along with the people who were holding the commonwealth back, and basically even bethesda's fallout games usually have hope and progress as a major theme even if it's only right at the end.

so the idea that "we will veer towards destruction" and "our best efforts to restart civilization are doomed" being fallout's "inevitable message" is just stupid no matter how you look at it. it feels like a running gag to me. i know bethesda is notorious for forgetting their own lore but do they really care so little about even their own fallout games tha- i dont even need to finish the question, we already know the answer lmao

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Hello. While this is Sussex related, I wanted to sort of switch gears. I wanted to get your take on Henry’s post divorce reputation rehab.

I wouldn’t say that I am a Henry apologist but I do believe that Meghan has influenced him in negative ways and brought about behaviour that had been controlled, out wild. (I sincerely believe Henry had been seen by a doctor and was on medication for anxiety, depression, whatnot and I believe Meghan got him off it. No proof, just thoughts)

I always believed that post divorce announcement, the BRF would close ranks and he would be shipped off to Africa for some time to building villages, help bring water etc, moving elephant herds etc. But, now with the Sentabale debacle, I don’t see Africa as a safe haven any longer. I figured he’d give one interview (that’s all I’d allow as his rep!) and sort of be pushed into the ether for a gradual reintroduction to the world. There seems to be a lot of “he’s just c*ntstruck”, “he’ll be okay once he gets away from her” so I do think a rehab is possible.

I’m just not sure how the PR rehab would work, if it even could at this point because the longer this marriage goes, the more difficult it is. I also don’t factor the kids in because I don’t think those kids are leaving the States or their mother.

What’s your take on Harry’s post divorce announcement reputation rehab?

ask from April 15th

For me, I think it depends on where he is.

If he's still living in the US and out of the BRF's fold - aka doing it all himself on his own - it'll be a celebrity comeback tour. He'll get some breakfast shows, a podcaster in the niche field he wants to rebuild his reputation as, and probably one of those celebrity reality competition TV shows. It'll be very C+/B- list.

If he's in the US but in with the BRF, it'll be more of an A-Lister celebrity comeback tour with more prestigious speaking and charity engagements and a bit of travel throughout the Caribbean and Africa as part of some Commonwealth outreach. He'll definitely get some family invites back to the BRF and the aristo society as long as Charles is around and there will be greater BRF support at Invictus Games.

If Harry's back in the UK, back in with the BRF, and Charles is still King, he'll definitely get the royal rehab tour. That's the "c*ntstruck" edit, which goes into overdrive villainizing Meghan and sympathizing Harry to the exponential maximum. I do feel like in this scenario, Harry splits his time evenly between US/UK and Africa, and he gets social invites back, but he'll have to earn back the bigger tickets from the BRF.

I do think that the BRF needs to make actual rehab a condition of their support. It's very clear Harry has a substance abuse problem - both through his own admittance and through rumors around Hollywood - and any legit help from the BRF should require actual treatment, of both the substance abuse and the mental health that he was receiving back in 2016 when all this started.

The kids, I agree, they're not likely to leave the US or Meghan. But the huge caveat here is if Harry can make her substance abuse and her approach to parenting a problem too. She's been much more careful about, but there's enough leaks and gossip out of Montecito and Invictus that suggest she could be in some serious trouble if Harry brings that up while he's in rehab/has the BRF's support.

But I think more than "what does his reputation rehab look like," the question is "will it work?"

And I think the answer there is no. Harry might be able to make up with Charles and if he's in it for the long haul, he might be able to get back into the public's "eh, whatever" graces. But the problem there is that it only works as long as Charles is there. Once William is in charge, Harry has a much higher hurdle to clear, which is something Charles is fully aware of - hence the rumors/leaks that Charles hopes to get Harry back and settled before he meets his maker so that William will be too busy to make any changes, the same way Charles had his hands tied by The Queen re Andrew.

[theology101]

I’m bored, so I’m rewriting fallout 4. Lets start with the big factions

Part 2

Fallout 4 Enhanced, part 1 - major factions

The Minutemen

So despite trying to uphold the values of Old World America, it’s a military junta made up of disorganized paramilitary troops. My brother in Christ, thats Yugoslavia.

After retaking the Castle, we should have the ability to form a democratic government and perfect the Commonwealth Provisional Government. And then have elections for Governor that the player can run for but also very much can choose not to. If you’re playing an evil Institute run one candidate should be Mayor McDonough as your puppet, but forbidding you from running. If we’re rebuilding America, let’s start with Democracy, eh? I think that the president should be Abigail Finch, but I’ll take Blake Abernathy or Preston Garvey.

Also, I want there to be a continuous through line of the Gunners-Minutemen rivalry. Honestly, once the Institute is gone, I want a big set piece battle against the Gunners in Quincy (maybe destroying the Overpass with Artillery?) and freeing the still captive population of Quincy. Give us a fourth act, semi protracted factional conflict

I think it would actually be fun if this was a multi faction battle, but we’ll get there.

Railroad

The biggest negative for them (besides the brain wiping) is that they put a lot of focus and effort into freeing *only* Synths. Which makes sense, because there are only Synth Slaves in the Commonwealth (besides ones explicitly being removed) - so here is an idea, say that is because of the Railroad. Make them be this famous and legendary group who’s broken up countless slaver groups and factions, and have no turned to the Synth as their latest Crusade.

It’d definitely give them a lot more good will with your average citizen who, even if they don’t like Synths, remembers their story. A large, established network that stretches across the entire East Coast that has the vast resources to fight the Institute on a level, if asymmetric, playing field. Hell, let’s even have a few long-term Brotherhood infiltrators who are leaking secrets to the Railroad (Maybe they’re a vertibird pilot who “throws their trash” and agents pick up the encoded message). They know of the Brotherhood and have agents in the Capital Wasteland, it isn’t impossible. There should be an option to assassinate Maxson and replace him with Danse whos more sympathetic and wont attack them, but also won’t work with them either.

Speaking of, during the Battle of Quincy, they should be freeing slaves. We see massive empty cages when we go in game, have them filled and make it the basis of the Gunner’s new slave trade operation. We convince Desdemona for a joint strike, so while our artillery is firing, a few squads of heavies and infiltrators hit the cages, free the prisoners, and bounce before anyone notices.

Brotherhood of Steel

This one is going to be the most radically changed, because I think the Brotherhood, while cool in principle, felt undercooked. Which is why I think there should be sub-factions within the Brotherhood of Steel - Hard Liners and Sympathizers, split between their view of Synths. Brotherhood Ideology is not monolithic, in fallout 2 there were debates if Super Mutants were bad, or Hostile Super Mutants only, and similar ones about Ghouls exist in Fallout 3. And then there are the ones who are Space Marines fighting for the God Emperor Elder Maxson.

Hard Liners: Kells, Quinlan and Teagen

Sympathetics: Ingram, Cade, Neriah and Madison Li

Maxson himself starts off as a Hardliner, but based off of choices in other questlines, the Brotherhood’s own new quest lines from the characters I just mentioned, and your charisma in dialogue checks, can be changed into being Sympathetic.

Kells is just a straight military man, also the easiest Hard Liner to convert once you convince him of the military impossibility of trying to actually find Synths, his quest would probably be making an airbase at one of your settlements for the Brotherhood. Quinlan is just a Maxson sycophant and propagandist and has fully bought into whatever Maxson says, even writing his propaganda piece, he also already has quests so he’s good. Teagan is a right bastard and Synth Racist, who will also disapprove of you making democracy if you’re a Minuteman - you have one quest were he sends a squad to intimidate your settlement and they kill the squad and you can either punish them or bring Teagan up on charges of plundering and terrorizing innocents.

Ingram feels a lot of sympathy for the Synths due to her own bio-mechanical nature and thinks that some institute tech can be used for good like agriculture or limb replacement. Her quests should be about finding a way to lessen her work load, maybe with robots, maybe by training and recruiting settlers, maybe by optimizing the Prydwen - her quest ends with her leaving the power armor frame and getting to sleep. Cade is a doctor, he isn’t too interested but since he cant tell a Synth from a Human under tests, he doesn’t really trust the Brotherhood to perform summary executions of them - his quest should just be getting the Covenant research to validate his assumption of ‘dont kill synths.’ Neriah thinks that Institute research in general, especially in bio science, and that Synth researchers with their long lives and rad resistance would be a massive boon for the Brotherhood, she also thinks Synths are similar to Star Paladin Cross and he was fine? - her quest already exists. Madison Li obviously values Synths and the Institute and, one step further, doesn’t want to destroy it either. Hold trials and take over? Sure, but not destroy a perfectly good lab filled with good people

Also, someone on the Sympathetic side is a Railroad agent but idk who, you decide! Not the only one, but definitely the highest ranking

Based off of all these people and their quests, I want a Far Harbor style “Everyone pause and let’s talk about it!” where there is just a full on debate between the leaders of the Brotherhood about wether or not Synths need to be destroyed, or just the method of creating and controlling Synths, allowing them to be free people. Hell, let this happen after Danse runs off but before you go get him. Make a case that the Institute records you stole have him as an escaped slave who then enlisted, of his own free will - while he needs to be taken off the active line of fire while the Institute still has the ability to control him (albeit only up close and if he hears it, so maybe just blast death metal?), let him be the thing that changes Maxson’s policy.

Or if you’re an absolute bastard, instead of doing anything that I just said you encourage everyone’s worst tendencies. Tell Cade that Covenant is almost there and that you let them carry on, get Proctor Ingram believing in conspiracy theories and Teagan an alt-right podcast where they debate whether or not the Brotherhood should have mandatory breeding regulations. I doubt anyone would play it, and all this option would do is lock you out of other stuff (probably preventing or toppling the Commonwealth Provisional Government but hey, at least you get to be Elder of the newly founded Commonwealth Chapter!), but if someone wants to be a bastard and not an unhinged freak who eats corpses, this is how

Let your choices in the story matter.

For the Battle of Quincy, just send a vertibird or two and drop in some guys in power armor and heavy weapons. Land them inside the walls while the Minutemen storm the gates - after the Artillery and Railroad have escaped, of course

The Good Ending

Before we get to the Institute, this is what I call the Good Ending. With the Brotherhood no longer having a desire to take down the Synth, and the Railroad, while powerful, very much lacking the firepower to take down the Institute, are both brought to the Castle for a meeting between Maxson, Desdemona, the Governor, Preston Garvey and you (if you’re not Governor-General). There is shouting, yelling, insults traded (maybe there is even an intermission) but unless you fuck up badly or intentionally screw yourself, you have a joint Minuteman-Railroad-Brotherhood attack force against the Institute.

The Brotherhood still play Pacific Rim, as a distraction, while Railroad operatives sneak through the tunnel system in the Charles. By the time Liberty Prime has blasted a hole into the Earth and Minutemen and Brotherhood troops are storming the base, Loyal and Rebel synths are already fighting on the ground for their freedom. Unlike in game, some of these scientists absolutely would not go down swinging. I can talk those nerds in bioscience or engineering are gonna fight to the Death? SRB sure, but come on. Maybe not all of them are genuine and there is some post game shit with that but with your planning and overwhelming advantage, the Institute falls rather bloodlessly

Now, you can decide to do what Arthur wants you to do and blow it up, or… you can decide to give the Institute to be jointly run by the three factions and the Synths. It’s just a social hub, maybe some act 4 shenanigans (racial conflict)

Oh boy,

The Institute

Hey what’s their goal?

Like, beyond keeping the surface permanently destabilized (Sabatouging any collective government, fomenting conflict between Goodneighbor and Diamond city, seeding Super Mutants at random to ensure chaos) so it remains their pretty, perfect little petri dish, what are their goals?

I got the idea for this from a youtube video, so I’m just gonna say it “Why did you program them to feel fear?” Like, what purpose does it serve to give the Synths complete, perfect sentience and then enslave them? The Gen 2s seemed to be doing just fine. Okay, maybe you wanted to make perfectly humanoid ones, why arent they all like Coursers? Why, why, why? And no one can give me a damn answer!

So, here’s an idea: Shaun is dying of Cancer, so he had his eyes set on True Immortality. A Gen IV Synth, perfectly capable of human thought and creativity, perfectly human in every biological way only superior - faster, stronger, quicker reflexes - immune to radiation, disease and starvation and, once they reach a certain age, become immortal. And I did say “reach a certain age.” Using biotech and nanomachines, lil Shaun is the first Gen IV Synth, born as an infant in a lab womb and fully capable of spreading as a new Ubermensch i mean, new tomorrow. Shaun was going to wait until the body was in its 20s, but his brain cancer is getting so bad that only fragments of his mind can be copied into the 10 year old body.

This should be an active debate of whether or not this is the next step in Cyborgs and Synths (after all, was Kellog not just a Synth at a certain point?) where as some view it as a gross violation of human dignity. Show me some angry academics, damn you! Regardless, some (especially older people) should be Quite Excited about getting flash copied into a “perfect” Gen IV body. This also, at least to me, explains why they needed to be perfectly human - they wanted a perfectly platform to hold onto their intelligence and not go insane or lose their “soul” like the Necrontyr-Necron. It gives an actual reason for all the weird shit they do

As Director you get to decide wether or not this gets to go ahead or not - also whether or not you should kill and replace people with Synths. Give me moral consequences, damn it, there is NO WAY Piper isnt getting replaced in an Institute Victory and you the player should have to carry that burden.

Also i want assassination missions where I replace people with Synths. I think it would be a fun stealth segment to get NPCs alone and either kill em or teleport em. We’re a shadowy cabal, we should be able to end all the faction disputes quietly. Send the brotherhood home, break apart the railroad in a single night. Right proper evil stuff. Or, if you want to play terminator, you role up with an army of death bots and destroy everything for the Gen IV Synth Army!

End Notes

Fallout 4 needed a fourth act. After the Institute is gone, nothing changes. I just blew up a solid chunk of cambridge and am i high ranking leader in two military governments and im a secret agent, and that’s it? No interaction with each other beyond killing? No “crossing idealogical boundaries for the greater good?” I don’t want to fanboy for New Vegas but there, I could cross boundaries and convince people to join their enemies for their own safety and betterment. Preston Garvey is just like “Hey, we can blow up the Blimp if you wanna. Danse is cool, and I know there are kids on board, but I don’t want them breathing down our neck.” Like, motherfucker I’m their Sentinel - no.

The point of the series is “War Never Changes, so Men Must Change.” There’s no change in Fallout 4. There is no seeing the bigger picture and reaching peace. Once the Institute blows up, most factions could probably just go home because the only reason they’d bother to do anything is to kill each other. And that’s deeply boring to me.

Next episode, the minor factions - Gunners, Children of Atom, Raider Gangs, and Super Mutants

[ouliarts]

Hello Fallout community, may I offer a sole survivor oc in these trying times? A lot more info about her under the cut

TLDR: Pre War Property Lawyer trying to help rebuild the commonwealth while also trying to keep her unimaginable grief at bay. And also she has a ghoul friend (not Hancock) that helps her along the way.

Feel free to ask questions about her

This is Sunny Rhodes (yes she sees the irony in her name). She's an ex property lawyer that got frozen for 200 years as per usual. She's really good with any sort of rifle cause she does not know how to fight in close combat. She is quite possibly one of the smallest woman in the commonwealth and is wearing clothes that are way too big for her. She has several medical issues due to the fact she was kept in a refrigerator for 200 years. She feels cold all the time so she always wears layers.

She sped ran through the 5 stages of grief after her husband died but also not really. She keeps all of her emotions bottled up except not really because she was hot (or cold) mess after leaving the vault. The only reason she's not dead is because she was helped by a very friendly ghoul that saved her from the vault. Her charisma is a 7 (maybe even more if fo4 gave me fnv stats) cause she's really good at reading people but she can't use that stat to its full potential cause she's going through it right now.

She use to be a property lawyer before the bombs. She makes it her sole mission to help every settlement and also improve their housing. She is not letting that degree go to waste, apocalypse be damned. And also she is surprisingly very good at fixing and building stuff?

She travels around the commonwealth with a lot of people. She's besties with Nick and Piper. But the one she's usually seen with is a ghoul from the south that's new to the commonwealth, and yet they act like they've known each other for years. (he's another oc that I will eventually get around to drawing)

Hope to draw more of her soon

[ronqueesha]

You know, it used to bother me that the hairstyle for Fallout and Cyberpunk Zoe were shaved on the opposite side.

But the longer I've spent with Cyberpunk Zoe, the more I like the difference. Cyberpunk Zoe is a dark mirror of the original. A younger, angrier version who did not get the glimmer of light and happiness that Fallout Zoe did. Without Nathan in her life, Cyberpunk Zoe descended into a very dark place, and dragged everything down with her.

On the other hand, Fallout Zoe had a husband and a family. Even if they were ripped away from her and permanently shattered things that will never heal. Fallout Zoe at least has a future that she can shape any way she wishes. With the Institute's resources, she can rebuild the Commonwealth into a place where no one will ever suffer like she did.

Cyberpunk Zoe dies on the same day everything collapses for her. After ascending to the heights of fame and fortune, Judy can't take any more and leaves. Later that day, the damage from the chip becomes too much, and she dies alone.

[datura-tea]

whats your favorite thing about ewch of your 3 main pcs?

hmmm i think my favorite thing is that i can use them to explore the world theyre in + how someone could effectively live in each respective wasteland, considering the particular circumstances of that pc:

the capitol wasteland is a weird + anti-social place, so is vault 101. gwen is a teenager who is very much a product of her environment; she's a contrarian, judgmental, angry, sad, bristling at the unfairness of the world. she doesn't have a filter and will say the the first thing on her mind. also a bit of a bitch. she has a strong moral compass though, and when she deems something wrong, she's going to do something about it, usually thru violence - she burns down paradise falls in a bid to end all the slavery in the capitol wasteland, for example

courier six is a blank slate, we all know this, but since the mojave is such an interesting place + the courier has canonically led an interesting life, i just had to make a pc that matched. moz has been though a lot, has had a dozen near-death experiences, but she always comes out of them swinging, her feet hit the ground running. she's bright, charismatic, sharp, grounded despite all the wild things she's done + have happened to her, and maybe a little too eager to get into other people's business. when something happens to her, she mostly just shrugs it off and heads toward the next adventure

fallout 4 i have to admit i didn't explore or enjoy much, so i don't really have anything substantial about sofia and the commonwealth, but i do love setting up and developing sofia's prewar life. being from the philippines, she idealized america so much that when nate proposed after he got her pregnant, she accepted against her better judgement. but in america her white picket fence dreams become a nightmare that she can't wake up from... anyway, sofia is clever, caring, and has a bit of a bleeding heart. once out in the commonwealth, she uses her architecture degree to rebuild settlements, grieving her past life while coming to terms with her new one

that's the main thing but also i just love drawing them in fun outfits and situations!!

[transparentkinks]

Hey, we don't talk enough about how a lot of companions are gonna way outlive the player.

Angst and death ahead!

Nick: 

Attitude

He doesn't like to think about how long he’s gonna live, and how long she’s gonna live. Never puts him in a good headspace. He just makes sure to stay by her side, keep her out of harm’s way, learn his way around radaway and stimpacks and med-x. She gave him plenty of stress, no doubt, but that was also why he loved her. She was brave. She knew what was right, she kept a level head and stood by those that stood by her. She was skilled enough to rebuild a peace the likes of which the commonwealth hadn’t known in ages. Honestly, it was probably better now. Her settlements were something to behold, and they kept the area around them safe. There was so much food, clean water, people were safe, people had something to fight for, she had taken down anything in her way. She was a one woman nuclear bomb and the commonwealth was never the same. 

He realizes sometime later on, that part of him just felt like she’d find a way to live forever. She was brilliant like that, but he also knew that’s something she’d never really pursue. It wasn’t until Nora started showing signs of age that he started looking for ways himself. He found evidence of plenty, none though that let her keep her humanity. He swore to himself he’d stay by her, support her in age and infirmity, she wouldn’t be alone. The looming threat of Nora’s death was something he proffered only to pay mind to while fighting, or while Nora entertained a much too shady quest. Then he used it to protect her, and knowing that he would be there no matter what hairbrained scheme Nora managed to get herself entangled in gave him some measure of peace of mind. Nothing would take her if he had a say in it. Maybe not even death, if that synth to human connection line of research lines up with the research on downloading a human mind. 

In the Moment

Realistically, it was probably a delicious dinner. He didn’t eat, but he set himself timers to harass Nora to eat, drink and sleep as she had a tendency to procrastinate all of them. They were not needed tonight. Tonight she wasn’t just Nora, she was Nora, general of the Minutemen. And Nora, general of the Minutemen, was to be meeting with the upper brass of diamond city. No doubt quite annoying for them, seeing as her history placed her as a dirty vault dweller asking questions in the upper stands and eventually finding out the mayor is a secret synth. The fact that she had to meet with them to solidify trade deals they desperately wanted no doubt got under their skin. 

Evidently too much, as Nora quickly curled into herself in her seat, clutching her sleeves and shaking. “N-nick?” She sounded scared as he watched a shudder wrack through her. 

“Nora, what’s wrong?” Her labored breathing had him pulling her back into him. She seemed to be foaming at the mouth. “No, baby no” he nearly dropped her in his shock, managing instead to cradle her to his chest as he fell to his knees. Her hand twitched up and he grabbed it tight. He’d seen cyanide poisoning before. He knew it hurt. There wouldn’t be enough time to get her a doctor, much less anyone who can treat a poison like this. “Please no.” He begged. Her chest was heaving, but he knew none of it would help her breathe. Her eyes were flitting around the room, unfocused and scared.

“Look at me Nora” He gave her hand a squeeze and her panicked eyes locked onto his glowing gaze. “I got you” He smoothed her hair back, winced at the pained groan falling from her lips.  “I love you Nora” and he knew it was likely the last thing she ever heard. He watched the light leave her eyes, her breaths fall short. It happened all too fast. 

He looked up around at everyone there, everyone’s reaction to what transpired. He would get to the bottom of this. He’ll find who did this. God help them when he did. 

Hancock:

Attitude

Sometimes he wished Nora would turn ghoul. He wondered if that drug he took was really the only hit ever. He didn’t care what she looked like, what the years would do to her, but he would never be ready to lose her. Not her smile, not her will to see the world made better, not her joy or her ability to see the potential good in everything around her. 

He always maintained visibility with her in battle. He’d been yelled at more than a few times for taking hits meant for her. He trusted her ability to protect herself, he knew just how incredibly capable she was, but nothing prepared him for the full blown animal panic he felt the first time he saw her go down. He fought like he hadn’t before even to save his life. He hated seeing her hurt, seeing her sick. She of all people deserved a long, healthy, pain-free life. He knew it was too late for the last one, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try to mitigate what he could. As far as he and the decent half of the commonwealth were concerned, she was a saint walking. The idea that he would somehow outlive her felt like a cruel joke.

He didn’t expect to breakdown like he did the first time he found a gray hair on Nora. He didn’t think she even woke up for it, him cradling her head on his chest, trying and failing to calm his hyperventilating with her even, rested breaths. He would make her a synth if he could, bottle her somehow and keep her like this, forever. If it wasn’t her worst nightmare he wondered if he could put her back in a cryo pod, wake her up for the best moments. She would hate it, he knows, but he dreams still, of having her around for every beautiful moment of his life. 

He knows he’ll never be ready for it, whether it comes in fifty years or tomorrow. He dreads what he’ll become when she’s gone. He knows she’ll want him to carry on her legacy, watch her settlements and keep people who just want peace safe. He would do it too, he thinks. It could become his singular drive, after her. He knows no matter what, when she’s gone he’ll just feel empty. He prays when she passes it will be peaceful, not scared or afraid or alone. He prays he’ll be there. 

When it happens

It was a political grab in the end. 

A tribe of raiders who didn’t know how she had restructured the minutemen to withstand her loss, an assassin killed seconds after they struck. 

He held her as she fell, cushioned her fall and put pressure on the wound. Packed it with clean cloth from the table that she made possible with her water purifiers and generators and traps and creative ability. It was such a brutal thing though, through the gut and up into the lung. She was supposed to be safe, she was just wearing a cotton dress. It did nothing against buckshot. He screamed for Curie.

 “Please baby, stay with me. Hold on, you’ll be okay. You’ll be okay sunshine.” He helped heave her onto the table, helped Curie access the wound, administered the med-x so she wouldn’t hurt, because god his sunshine was gasping. 

“She can’t breathe Curie, what do we do?” Curie looked like she wanted to cry, a very grim mask on her face. 

“We need to get her on oxygen or I need to get this lead out of her fast and hit her with a super stimpak. We don’t have oxygen.” Curie set to work removing each piece of buckshot, quickly and efficiently and he would never forget how Nora started to wheeze. She thrashed and he knew he had to hold her down when Curie grunted. 

“Hold on sunshine, you’ll be okay. Hold on for me.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead, placed a kiss upon it and prayed. He felt a hand on his head, caught a weak hand, laced his fingers with hers. He knew he was crying, he did during every scare, but when he caught that scared, spacy look in her eye he sobbed. “Curie, what’s going on-”

“I just keep finding more!” Curie yelled back at him, pulling out pellet after pellet. 

“Fuck, sunshine please. I don’t want a world without you. I love you.” He held their entwined hands to his face, pressed kisses to her fingertips. “Please, please, please” He wasn’t sure who he was begging. Her, god, fate? It was all happening so fast. He wasn’t ready. 

She wheezes, this awful hollow sound and he watches her eyes finally focus on him. “John?” She says it so light, so quiet, like a question. He just hoped she wasn’t as scared as she sounded. 

“Yeah sunshine, I'm right here. You’re okay.” He gave her hand a squeeze. She started to shake her head. “Please baby, you’re okay.”

“Shawn” she gave the tiniest squeeze to his hand. 

“I know baby, he’ll be okay. You know me an’ Curie and Nick and, an’ Codsworth. Ada. Strong. We- we got him. Just please hold on, hold on for me please sunshine.” He was begging at this point. She just tried to shake her head again. “Reserve your strength baby-”

“I- love you-” He hated the hollow, wet change to her voice. Her lovely, clear, beautiful voice. 

“I know sunshine.” He cut her off. “I love you too. So much. I will always love you.” She smiled, shook her head at that again. She got this faraway look in her eye. Curie pushed him away, injected the stimpack despite the countless bits of buckshot still within. She began administering CPR. After what felt like ages, Curie crumpled against Nora’s chest. She was shaking, he knew she was crying. He screamed. 

Curie:

Attitude

Curie always fretted over Nora’s health. She knew that Nora would age, that she could get hurt. Her own newfound vulnerability was certainly an adjustment when Nora got her a synth body. When she was able to actually feel it, she discovered that Nora’s vulnerability even compared to her, terrified her. 

She dedicated a lot of energy to watching Nora’s health when she realized that Nora herself didn’t pay much mind to it. She pestered Nora to eat a balanced diet, refused to move on from a fight without checking her over. When she needed stitches, Curie was the one stitching Nora up. When Nora needed medicine, Curie administered it. If Curie didn’t join Nora on an outing, she was worried until she laid eyes on Nora again. She wouldn’t let Nora settle in until she was certain Nora didn’t need treatment. 

The few times she saw Nora hurt, Curie felt more than she ever had in her life. She couldn’t focus on anything beyond healing Nora. She only really yelled if Nora was hurt and Curie was scared for her. If her and Nora fought, it was about the carelessness with which Nora dived into situations or her willingness to brush off an injury. The one time Curie ever yelled at Nora was when Nora insisted that the best plan of action for her bullet wound was to ‘walk it off’. 

Curie realized that realistically, she would far outlive Nora. Just like she outlived her researchers. She wouldn’t be alone, sure. Nora entrusted her with the long term guardianship of Shawn. She liked being a parental figure to him. They were both adjusting to synth life together, but she could still see so much of Nora in him. He felt like their son. Still, she knew she’d never be ready to say goodbye to Nora. Nora made her feel like she could understand being alive. She made her want to feel. She dreaded the day she’d have to say goodbye. All she could do was protect, care for, and cherish Nora while she had her. 

When it happens.

Curie wasn’t ready. She was not ready to watch Nora deteriorate. Cancer was an inevitability for many in the fallout riddled wasteland. She just wished it wasn’t Nora’s fate. Curie had dove into her research, but there was no safe way to treat it any more. By the time Curie found a way to potentially attack the cancer it had already reached her lymph nodes.

Curie and her friends had to hide their grief from Nora. They tried as best they could. Nora tried her best to stay upbeat through it all, shut down conversations about grief and dying. Pushed herself through dinners and parties and a few final speeches to the Minutemen. Gave her opinions as to potential succession. She started a journal, sitting for hours into the night writing down every useful piece of information she knew. Accounts of her life before the bombs, details of politics and culture. What poems she could remember, songs she loved, recipes and life tips, how-to guides and blueprints. She restructured what she could, Curie didn’t quite know how to break the news to Nora, but she seemed to know even before Curie told her. Nora set to work the moment she felt herself waver. She restructured everything about her settlements, built methods for local leadership and transfer of power and communication between settlements. Nora made sure that her radio system was robust. 

Curie hated all of it. The way Nora knew, the way she comforted her when she was telling Nora that she wouldn’t make it. The way she became unhurried, content to linger in moments. No more of that fire to act like she would never have enough time to do what she wanted. Now that Nora knew it was coming, she slowed down. She tried to hide it, but Curie knew Nora was so tired. She wouldn’t stop, but Curie knew she was slowing down to savor it. Like she wanted to remember what was happening. 

She hated it even more when it became clear Nora was hiding that it hurt. Curie and her friend group had to practically fight her to get her to rest. The last fight they ever had, Curie was sobbing, begging Nora to tell her what hurt, let her take care of her, stop pushing herself. Nora hated seeing Curie cry. The fight ended with Nora acquiescing, finally letting Curie take care of her, letting herself rest. It always took a bit of prodding to get an assessment of Nora’s pain, even more so to get her to accept pain relief. 

Curie found herself praying for one more day. Every night, when it looked like her love was wilting in front of her. Curie prayed for just one more day, found herself counting Nora’s breaths into the night. She found herself fearing this sleep she now needed, worried she’d awaken one morning to the love of her life cold beside her. She began staying up late into the night, holding Nora afraid of the moment her breathing would stop.

The night Nora passed was a painful one. Curie hadn’t left her bedside the whole day. Nora looked so tired, grimaced at just the idea of trying to move. Shawn was scared of visiting her now, had spent that morning crying into Nora’s lap, letting her run tired fingers through his hair and tell him that he would be okay, that she loves him, that he would never be alone, that he was always going to be her son. 

All of Nora’s friends were there, helping Curie and Shawn watch over Nora. They were desperate to talk to her, say their goodbyes without actually saying goodbye. As always they cringed through her morbid jokes at her own expense. No one wanted to point out to Nora that they weren't funny, that no one actually benefited from her death and no one was laughing at her new condition. 

That day Nora had more energy than normal. Fought Curie a little more about her med-x. Didn’t settle as much when Curie held her that morning. Held long conversations with each of her friends, refused to eat, if not occupied with conversation then with a book or writing. Nora and her friends felt hopeful about how she felt that night, but Curie knew otherwise. She tried not to cry. Prayed more than ever in her life for just one more day. One more day with her, please. 

The room was dark and quiet, just her and Nora. Curie held her that night, told her again how she loved her, despite her protests administering her nightly dose of painkillers because she could tell from the tightness in Nora’s limbs that she hurt. She counted Nora’s breaths as she drifted off to sleep, stroked her hair. She had nearly passed out herself when she heard what she always feared. She was shaking when she felt Nora’s breathing stop. She tried to resuscitate her. Begged for Nora to come back to her. Fought to keep her heart beating. She knew she was gone.

She was not ready to be alone.

Charon:

Attitude

Charon was willing to do a lot for Lone. Kill for her. Live for her. Die for her. She bought him, freed him, walked with him to help him realize he was free. She made him feel human again. 

There was a time, before he realized what she had done, when he wouldn’t have cared if she died. He’d seen plenty of peppy young things ground down by the wasteland, put a good few down himself. He expected to have his work cut out for him, taking care of this foolish waif of a girl. Even more so when she immediately tried to tear up the contract and “Declare him free and no longer bound to it”. She actually looked like she feared him when he explained what he was meant to do at the destruction of his contract.

Instead, she proved wildly capable, scarily adaptable. She took action without hesitation, and while he wished she would think before diving into other people’s problems he could never deny that she was brave. She was a crackshot, and there were times when she shot down every threat with her pistol before he even got a shot off. 

More often than not, she cared for him. Insisted he slept and ate, paid him money he found little use for considering she made sure he had a bed and food, and told him to fuck off on his apparently “mandatory breaks”. She wouldn’t let him go off with an injury, yelled at him when he got hurt and didn’t tell her. The only time they ever ordered him to do anything, was when they told him to run when the enclave came after them and the G.E.C.K. He spent a good time back in the underworld wondering why he felt so scared for this master, why he kept glancing at the door waiting for their crazy unkillable self to stumble through the door and drag him back out into some ill-planned charity scheme. Why instead of apathy or amusement he felt dread at the idea she wouldn't make it back.

He got his answer when he watched them walk into the water purifier. She walked into the same room where she watched her father die, didn’t even look back at her friends behind her. He knew all she needed to hear was “Lives are on the line”. He tried to stop her, but she was always fast. He hated the way her whole body shook and swayed from the radiation coursing through her as she tried to type in the code.

It was an answer he was slow to come to, waiting by the side of her bed. He thought she was a good person, better than any he had ever met. He thought she shouldn't have to do the things that she does. He thought the whole wasteland owed her a whole lot, himself included. He was free, he had realized over that bed. She was too clever to let him be anything but free, even when he could only imagine servitude. In a way he appreciated his role, not much before when people used him like a tool; but now, Lone showed him he was simply a man, and a skilled one at that. Poked and prodded and teased the humanity out of him, she insisted he deserved respect.

He followed this woman because he wanted to. He couldn’t think of wanting to spend time with anyone else. He loved hearing her talk, watching her work. He actually enjoyed talking when it was with her, even if he remained ever taciturn. He couldn’t imagine wanting to protect anyone else.

He realized he relished the work. She did good things, brought him to help her do good things. Protecting her, it felt like a good thing. Not erasing, but evening the score of the things he has done. It felt like repentance.  Whatever this woman decided she would do, he knew he wanted to be there to help her. He was free and his heart belonged to this woman because he gave it to her. It was not fear for himself and his future that caused his worry, there would be no masters after her. No, he loved her. And he did not want to live in a world without her. 

The panic that overtook him when he realized that fact was unlike anything he felt in decades. Here he was, with a love like a chain around Lone’s neck praying this wasn’t her deathbed, and nothing he could do. He didn’t think he was ever religious, but he started praying to something that night. 

She recovered, and he had to practically fight her to get her to rest instead of springing back into action. He tried hard to hide his newfound realization, but of course she noticed. He was talking more, speaking before he could even think. Pushing her not to take risks, to stay safe. Going out of his way to take bullets meant for her. He started telling her that she did enough, that she doesn't need to play hero, that she should stay safe and enjoy the relative safety she helped make. Of course she asked him what was up, offered him his contract again. 

It was hard explaining that he wanted to serve her, wanted to stay with her. Her inquisitive self pried out all the little secrets in his heart and was delighted at what she found. She accepted him wholeheartedly, despite the social stigma that came from it. She loved him, started to fight for him. She became more ferocious in her campaign to ensure those around her respected him and those like him. Wore the target that came with that like a badge of honor, sent those that challenged her off either with their tail between their legs or one extra hole in their body.  He became desperate to protect her. Anyone who wanted to so much as talk to her would have to go through him if he had any say about it. Disrespect, threats, towards her he would never tolerate. If she would try to protect him with her ferocity, he would protect her with every ounce of animosity in his soul.  

He took joy in being able to protect her, being the person she would lean on when life got hard. For the first time in as long as he can remember his life, his efforts had meaning. The paths she chose were good, she time and again fought to help people; ghouls even, people she didn’t know. She cared if they were getting enough food and water, cared to build communities, cared enough to forgive things he personally found unforgivable.  If anything he did could protect or support her, if it could bring her joy, it was worthwhile. 

How this undeniable good, loving, beautiful person could stand to love him, choose to fight for him he would never understand. He was something twisted and bent to serve a violent purpose, but if she would make him more, then his bloody talents would be hers without question. He found himself often musing over if there’s really anything he wouldn’t do for her, amusement only. She wouldn’t order him to do anything to save her life, just to save his. She was too good for this world, caught that idealism from her parents like a chronic disease. They’d both watched her father burn for it. He watched her brave radiation enough to knock a ghoul on their ass for those same ideals. He would never tell her, but he swore to himself he would protect her from herself if it came down to it. He would not stand by as she walked into hell, over his dead body. 

In the moment

“I said you’re a fucking lying bastard Maxon!” Charon had to physically hold her back. She was on the verge of tears. He knew she thought she could help change the brotherhood, help them become something more than the violent military group they were. He knew she thought they could be family. But they weren't good. Not like her. They found discrimination and massive civilian casualties to be the cost of doing business. Once again she was being betrayed by a group she thought she belonged to. 

“You will mind your words when speaking to elder Maxon.” A knight had a weapon trained on her. This was meant to be her dropping in to clear up a discrepancy. Instead they walked into a den of snakes, telling her she was being betrayed and that their favor was her being able to walk away alive. 

“Elder my ass! While he was a kid my father was dying for this project. My mom died dreaming of this project. I am willing to die for this project. She said free water for all and I’ll be damned if I don’t fight for it! You can just let people get it! There is enough for everyone! We have a caravan system going! You can’t just decide to cut people off-”

“Those aren't people” Some fascist in power armor spoke up. 

“Oh so that’s it? You’re gonna cut them off because they harbor-”

“Are infested by” Maxon corrected.

“God, Maxon what the fuck happened to you? You’re killing people with this decision, you know that?” Lone was full on crying. 

“I don’t have time for this, have them removed.” Maxon hardly looked at them as he began walking away.

“No you don’t!” Lone tried to go after him, lurching forward in Charon’s grip. 

“Lone, let's just go. We’ll figure something out.” This was getting dangerous and emotional, she wasn’t safe. He wanted to get her out of there so badly. 

“I’ll fucking kill you for this Maxon! You hear me! I’ll-” Charon pulled her back, lifting her flailing body and moving to carry her out before she decided to open fire, but he guessed someone decided not to give her the chance, hit just beneath her collarbone, into her lung. No exit wound. 

He ran, he had to get her out of there. He was thankful no one at the gate opened fire. He ran until he couldn’t see any signs of the brotherhood, and he would have ran more if not for the worrying amount of blood coating his shoulder. He shifted her and she let out a hollow, wet groan. He kicked his way into a boarded abandoned house, placed her on the rusty bed that had survived in the corner and tried to ignore the panicked wheezing sound she was making. He started looking through her pack, grabbed her med-x, stimpacks, alcohol, bandages, and tweezers.

“Charon-” She reached a clumsy hand out for him. He poured the liquor over his hands, soaked the bandages and tweezers. 

“I’m here” He brought everything over to her, felt her place a hand on his head, heard her wheeze again. 

“I got you” He set to work fast, administering the med-x before searching for the bullet. 

“Charon” She gasped out. Her voice sounded strained and wet. 

“You’re okay sweetheart”. He spoke with as much confidence as he could manage, but he knew the pet name betrayed him. She’d teased him about it before, how he only talks to her like that when one of them is fucked up. She wasn’t moving much, but she tried to shift her weight and groaned at it. “Save your energy” he commanded as he worked, placed a steadying hand over her sternum and felt it rise and fall as she breathed. He was scared of looking up at her face. He hated seeing her in pain. He just wished he could find this bullet-

“Charon” She sounded more desperate this time. “Please”. 

He glanced up at her face. It was so pale, she looked confused and scared. “I got you, you’ll be okay”. He reassured. She had lost so much blood. He just wanted to take care of this wound fast, get some stimpacks in her. Put this whole mess behind them. She wheezed again. 

“No, Charo-” 

“Please save your strength” He pleaded. She tried to move and he pushed her back, held her body in place. She stopped fighting him quickly, didn’t quite manage to hide the pained grunt from her exertion. Holding her down didn’t take as much strength as it should have. 

“Too much blo-” he hated how she talked about her injuries sometimes, like she herself was a doctor. He wanted to curse her medical background. 

“No” He felt himself shaking. She was so pale, but he couldn’t give up. 

“Listen” She pleaded. Would administering a stimpack now hurt her? He couldn’t find the bullet. He looked up, met her eyes. She looked scared. He really hoped he didn’t too. “I’m not”

“You’re gonna make it” He spoke firmly. 

“I’m not” She wheezed again. He felt her thumb pet one of the few patches of hair he had left. Normally he loved when she did that. “Charon, they’re gonna take-” 

“I know” He tried to hold back a sob. 

“I- stop them” She seemed desperate, he could practically see the lightheadedness getting to her. He felt the hand on his head briefly make a fist before flattening again. 

“I need you to hold on” he pleaded. “I love you, it's not time for you to go yet”. Fuck it, she’d lost too much blood, he can’t find the bullet and she was talking scary. He tried to ignore her wet hiss and his shaking hands as he administered the stimpack. 

“Charon” she whined. Her chest started heaving faster, like she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs. He held the hand not on his head. She felt too cold. He forced himself to meet her eye. “I love you” she spoke desperately in a whisper. 

“I know sweetheart” He spoke as softly as he could. Gripped her hand tight. Prayed the stimpack would be enough. They both knew it wouldn’t be. 

“Charon I’m scared”. She gripped his hand back as best she could. He lifted a bloody hand to grab the hand on his head, kissed the palm.

“You’ll be okay, I got you-” Fuck, he was crying. 

“Them, Charon don’t let them-” The words came in one wet gasp. 

“I won’t”. He promised.

“I have you”. He gathered her up in his arms, held her like he knew she liked, prayed she felt warm, because to him she felt freezing. He looked her in the eye, they were getting unfocused and distant now. “I love you” he spoke quietly, placed light kisses to her face, repeated it all for her in soft whispers till he felt her last scraping breath. 

He was screaming, he realized, when he came to sobbing over her body. 

He would bury her, he decided. Then, he had one final order to carry out.

Fawks: 

Attitude

He had suggested FEV before. Just once. Lone shot it down of course, wanting to be certain of maintaining her intellect. He couldn’t blame her. 

He was always hyper aware of how killable she was, from the moment she let him out. He ran into a lot of radiation explicitly because he knew she would not survive that much radiation. He realized she was a little less killable than he thought when she strolled out of the enclave, the entire faction in ruins, because, apparently to hear her tell it, of her being able to convince the computer that ran the place to blow everything up. 

She proved herself highly intelligent, but he often questioned her sanity considering some of the undertakings she willingly endured. When he would voice his objections on basis of safety, she would tell him she could handle it herself if he didn’t want to go. Of course he always went. 

He thought she was beautiful, and kind, and accepting. He fought down any and all romantic feelings toward her, relishing instead in being able to help keep her safe and in action throughout all her suicidal attempts at making the wasteland a better place to live. He was always legitimately shocked at her frequent success, and well as some of the situations she managed to just walk out of with nary a scratch. 

He was furious when she just walked into the water purifier the second she realized the stakes. Didn’t even ask him to help, just walked in and wobbled her way through typing in the code. He thought she died. Stayed by her bedside terrified she wouldn’t wake up. Felt joy like he couldn’t remember in ages when she did wake up. 

Unfortunately for him Lone was curious, mischievous at the best of times, shameless at the worst. She pulled a confession out of him one dark night holed up against a rad storm, himself two bottles of vodka deep (He was a lightweight for a supermutant). Herself quite tipsy, she proceeded to kiss the breath right out his lungs. The next day, she didn’t regret it, and suddenly he had what he thought impossible for him: Love. 

His desire to aid and protect her grew tenfold, and they got into a lot of fights about Lone walking into dangerous situations without him going first. He knew better than to tell her not to do something when she put her mind to it, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try and keep her safe. 

In the moment

“I don’t like the look of the rest of this compound” Fawks spoke warily, eyeing the change in wall material. 

“It could mean we’re closer to the G.E.C.K.” Lone chimed in from his side. 

“That could also mean we’re a lot closer to a lot of radiation. We need to be careful.” Fawks warned, gun ready for anything to pop out and attack. 

“Look!” Lone grabbed a finger, the closest she could get to holding his hand, and dragged him ahead to a large section of glass paneling looking down into a chamber with a small plate atop a pillar, with a great metal needle hanging from the ceiling above it. “It must be the G.E.C.K.!” She spoke excitedly, hands and nose pressed against the glass. “Where do you think the controls would be?” Lone looked down into the chamber. 

“I’m checking it out” Fawks spoke, opening the door and stepping into the larger chamber. When he looked behind him, he was exasperated to see Lone had followed behind him. He sighed, then looked to the wall below the glass panel. “Well, we found the controls”. 

“Perfect! The note said that once it's activated, it will start purging radiation from the surrounding wasteland and make the ground fertile. All we gotta do is figure out how to activate it.” Lone wandered to the panel, ran her hands over the buttons. “It’s a two person switch, or one really long person switch”. Lone announced, looking at the glass-enclosed dials on either end of the panel. “Lucky you got backup”. Lone looked at Fawks and winked, and he could only sigh. 

“On the count of three?” He opened his box, placed his hand on the dial, watching Lone do the same.” “One..Two..Three!” The machine was deafening when it turned on, sent a blast of air through the room.

“Fawks?” He didn’t even register her geiger counter going off till he realized she had crumbled to the ground. “Fawks?” He gathered her up in his arms, checked her pip-boy ignoring the shake in her limbs. Started sweating when he saw the geiger counter couldn’t go any higher. He couldn’t look her in the eye, couldn’t stop. He had to get her out of here now.

He ran for the door. It was locked, no handle and it was keypad operated. He kicked at the door, then the keypad, then what was left of the keypad, until finally the door opened. He ran up the hallway, up up up, to another door. Locked from the other side. Her geiger counter was still buzzing, quieting only slightly in comparison to the G.E.C.K. chamber. That was the door they came in, the only door that lead in and the only door out. He fell to his knees, started digging through the packs for radaway and rad-x. Placed a delirious Lone against the door, the farthest point from radiation and the quietest her counter could get. Ignored her groans when he held her arm still to roll up the sleeve and insert the needle. She seemed to come to, just a little bit. 

“Fawks?” She was looking up aimlessly. He held her much smaller hand in his. 

“I’m here love, I got you.” He grabbed some rad-x and purified water. “I need you to take this”. Lone scrunched up their face and groaned, but let him help them sit up, take the pills and then the water. Their eyes rolled down to their geiger counter. 

“I guess the door is locked?” Lone looked very tired. 

“Yes” he sighed. 

“Fawks, if I don’t-”

“You’re gonna make it Lone” He leaned forward, his head against the door, body arching over Lone. What he wouldn’t give to put those few inches of lead between there and Lone. 

“If I don’t” They spoke with a determination. “Don’t let the brotherhood horde this shit, yeah?” She smiled up at him, but her eyes didn’t seem to focus. 

“I’ll make sure” He promised. He was crying, he knew. 

“Hold me?” Her voice was so quiet. 

“Of course love”. He gathered her in his arms. Tried not to sob more when her geiger counter started getting louder. He started talking to her, trying to keep her awake, keep her responsive, but she seemed to zone in and out. 

He changed her radaway the second it was used up. He knew the side effects would be killer if she made it. If she made it. Did start sobbing when she yelped, pulled back at the feeling of the needle leaving her skin. She seemed confused. 

“Lone, its Fawks, I’m right here. This is gonna hurt but you’ll be okay” She nodded slowly, he exposed the needle on the new radaway, slid it into her skin right where the last had been, held her arm still for it because she was crying and shaking. He just held her arm still and held her. He checked repeatedly if he could get the door to open, praying it was just a time lock, but it held fast. She cried more when he turned away to check, and he really just wanted to hold her. 

He resolved to hold her, kiss her and igraine the smell of her hair into his memory. He kept trying to talk to her, got some sporadic half logical replies during the second bag of radaway. The geiger counter got louder, and they may as well have been back in the larger room. The third bag of radaway she was only able to sporadically say his name. He pressed kisses to her forehead, her brow, her nose her cheeks her lips her chin. Told her he loved her, over and over again. Halfway through the fourth bag, she stopped responding, and by the end of it her eyes had glazed over. He knew she was gone. He thought he was gonna lose his mind. 

Two weeks later, the door opened. The world he stepped out into was green.

I think I mighta spelled fawks wrong but he can eat my a$$ about it.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

"What's going on?" you sighed. "You've barely met my eyes all day."

Your words were almost drowned out by noise from the upstairs neighbors in the dingy apartment building you were now calling home. Daryl finally glanced up at you and gulped. "S'just... what we left... back in Alexandria. And what've we got here?" he gestured to the dimness of the shabby room. "We've got a shithole, money to worry 'bout again, 'n 'm back to bein' a nobody. Maybe we shouldn'ta come here. Maybe I shouldn'ta brought ya and the kids..."

You let out a huge sigh of relief. "Is that all?" you asked, moving to kneel down beside him. "I thought it was something really awful. You were scaring me."

Daryl shook his head, his brow furrowed. "Ya deserve better than this. So do RJ and Jude. 'M sorry..."

"Hey." You stopped him with a cool hand gentle against his cheek. "First of all, this isn't your fault. You deserve better than this shithole too. And you're right, we all do. But this is temporary. The Commonwealth is going to help us rebuild Alexandria. We're safe enough. We have meals for the kids... and we're together. That's all that matters for now." Daryl ducked his head, trying to believe you but he felt such a heavy curtain of guilt weighing him down, regardless of what you'd said. Maybe if he'd just been better, been stronger... But you kept speaking. "You will never be nobody, Daryl Dixon. Even before things fell apart, this man you are now was in there, waiting. Nobody? You're everything. And I'll tell you every minute if I have to until you believe it."

His blue eyes met yours again and they were less stormy. You gave him a small smile, and he rested a hand along the graceful curve of your neck and kissed you gently, almost pleadingly. "Dun ever forget how much ya mean to me."

You grinned at him and bit your bottom lip. He watched as your eyes flickered down to his lips and back up to his eyes. "What time are the kids getting home again?" you asked.

Daryl checked the clock propped up against the wall. "We got time," he drawled, a smile on his lips now too.

You looped your arms around his neck. "Thank God..."

Prompt: "Is that all?"

[capcollector]

i really cannot overstate enough how much bunny genuinely hated massachusetts. but theres something to be said for spite as a motivator. so post-fo4, of course she’ll help rebuild the commonwealth.

i don’t know if she’d ever outright say she likes it here, but her friends are here. her husband is here, her babies were born here. we made this place worth living.

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

Main Theme • The Commonwealth • Of Green and Gray • Portal to the Past • Standoff • Combat Ready • Deeper and Darker • Wandering: The Blasted Forest, Pt. 1 • Bright Calling • Of the People, for the People • Hope Remains • Wandering: The Blasted Forest, Pt. 2 • Predator and Prey • War in the Wastes • Time to Die • Uninvited • Wandering: The City, Pt. 1 • Rebuild, Renew • Concrete Mysteries • Tread Carefully • The Infiltrator • No Quarter • Wandering: The City, Pt. 2 • The Vigilant • The Warlord • Red Brick, Broken • Lonely Walls • Wandering: The City, Pt. 3 • Regrouped, Reloaded • V.A.T.S. or Die • Wandering: The Foothills, Pt. 1 • Darkness Falls • War of Wills • Wandering: The Foothills, Pt. 2 • Only One Survives • A Critical Chance • Dust & Danger • Liberty Lives • Lost Boston • Wandering: The Foothills, Pt. 3 • Honor & Steel • We Are Unstoppable • Dominant Species • Explore and Discover • Wandering: The Glowing Sea Pt. 1 • The Stars My Solace • Imagine Utopia • Lone Wandering • Wandering: The Glowing Sea Pt. 2 • The Last Mariner • Echoes of the Dead • Enough is Enough • Wandering: The Coast, Pt. 1 • Humanity's Hope • Endless Ocean, Endless Dreams • No Voices, No Cries • Wandering: The Coast, Pt. 2 • Covert Action • Rise and Prevail • No More Sails • Wandering: The Coast, Pt. 3 • In This Together • Still Standing • Science & Secrecy • Fallout 4 Main Theme ('Spinner' Mix)

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