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[badgebroken]

[badgebroken]

They would both learn of each other's past lovers soon enough. He, a man left behind, and her, a few. Laurel had an independent soul... and she had damned herself and Abbot to a life of unhappiness, it seemed. It was what she believed: that this is her fault. The arm offered is taken with slight hesitation.

"The overseer is already excited about children." Laurel whispers their first secret into existence. The figurehead of the vault had said so in private to the bride. Wishful thinking; the woman in white grit her teeth through it. "I'm sorry, at least I could shut that down for the next while."

Blonde hair is pulled too tight for the occasion. She blinks and smiles and says 'I do' with a tightness in her chest and the reminder that this is for the good of the vault in the back of her throat.

The speech is nice. The cake was delicious. They're expected to dance. Her heeled foot shakes across from him.

"The music is lovely. The committee did a good job. It's all very.. pretty." Laurel's talking too quickly to be natural. Still nerves. "Maybe one or two songs and we can - " head tilts, curled ponytail swings. The residential sector is to their right.

Do they stay, dance, drink, and avoid the silence that will fall between them when they're alone? Or do they play the act a little longer to please the masses?

[ 𝕎 ] —- - Abbott’s lips pursed into a thin smile, barely covering up his amusement at her awkwardness. Though, it disappeared as swift as it had come, as he considered their next steps. It wasn’t long now, until the woman before him would be his ` wife. ˊ Everything still felt unreal; seeing her white dress, the looks on everyone’s faces.

He didn’t know what he imagined his wedding would look like, but he definitely hadn’t envisioned this. If anything, he thought he’d be married to a certain mechanic from vault 23, with raven black hair, 5 o’ clock shadow, and an affinity for liquor.

Abbott pushed those thoughts from his mind before they spiraled out of control. Like it or not, these were the cards he’d been dealt & he’d figure things out one way or another. There was time for grieving later. Right now, he had to focus on playing his part.

He pushed out his elbow, offering his arm to Laurel. He was thankful that at least she seemed as uncomfortable about all this as he was feeling.

〝Yeah, let’s.〞

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[badgebroken]

adding to small laurel headcanons.

she smells like spring weather, a light dew on the grass, gardens come to life, lavender sprigs and honeysuckle buds and bees.

has heard the last words of three different people, two of them good friends, one of them she kissed goodbye.

laurel falls asleep during most movies. she is a sucker for a romantic ending, even if she's not awake to see it, she'll turn it on the next day and skip to the end. (unless she has access to google.)

loses white t-shirt contests because she has small titties, leave her alone.

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She can see it now, how her mother would chastise her for lack of enthusiasm. Many had taken on the roll of parental figures since her's had passed; none had done the job well. Laurel was still a wild thing, quick to temper as a child. Teaching the sharpshooting classes, close to leading security, these things gave her purpose. It kept her nose clean.

[ It really didn't. ]

A husband would settle her. It was another decision she didn't make, but it was for the good of the vault. They needed babies. Babies filled the nursery and soon the classroom and soon the vault when the elders stepped aside. For the good of the vault. [ Why was it up to them? ]

She grits her teeth but quickly unclenches the muscles for fear of letting the aggravation show. It's not directed at Abbott. This whole affair was unwanted and she felt annoyance bleeding off him like he was a stuck pig, draining blood for pudding.

"Thanks. Thank you. We, uhm, go this way. You probably know already. Sorry." Attempts are made to be kind. Considerate. She promises a kid they'll get a corner piece of the cake when they walk into the atrium.

" You look — nice. Let's just .... get this over with. "

[ 𝕎 ] —- - The fact that Abbott had shaved at all was cause for celebration in itself. Most of the time, he looked more like wasteland riff raff than a vault dweller, with his unruly hair & scruffy jawline. But, as much as he despised this ceremony, he felt some obligation to at least try & look decent. More so for his future bride than himself. After all, he didn't know anything about her to start with.

She was from the neighboring, connected vault. She was younger than him ( though not by much. ) She worked Security. Nothing more, nothing less.

For all he knew, this was the best day of her life. And while it was one of the worst days of his, he didn't want to disappoint by showing up looking as awful as he felt. After all, this wasn't her fault. It was simply an unfortunate trade-off for the comfort of living in an underground bunker "free from harm." As two of the oldest singles, it was time to pair off & contribute something more than their own labor. The thought alone made Abbott nauseous. As if living by all the other stupid rules of this place wasn't bad enough, now he had to give up his romantic freedoms, too?

He tried really hard not to scowl at the sight of Laurel. It wasn't her fault, he reminded himself.

Abbott stepped forward, forcing himself to smile. It didn't reach his eyes, though he hoped that her, and everyone else witnessing this ridiculous event wouldn't notice. He gave her a polite nod.

〝Abbott Wolff. Pleasure to meet you, Laurel.〞

He held back his surprise at the mention of "no in-laws." Even if it was, perhaps, an attempt at dry humor, it was an interesting bit of information. Something they shared in common, then.

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Also new verses coming up soon are going to include: vampire hunter turned vampire, fallout (ofc), cry far 5 dep verse (to keep with current threads, etc.), verse based on silo from apple tv (so good, more deets to come), gothic supernatural (think, appalachia, old gods), off the grid living, BoS (fallout) based, & others.

I should be writing but honestly - I'm so hyper focused on gaming atm. I AM working on Laurel's new background. thoughts?

this is all there is for now.

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most would have celebrated. laurel signed her name on the white fabric with a sigh. she stepped to the vault's biggest inner door with the same expression on her face. sour. the metal is loud, she can feel the zipper against her back, the excited chatter of the wedding planning group. it is all bad.

she's waiting on tapping feet and then the door opens and he's there, he's real and new and decent looking, she'll admit. laurel has to wonder. [ does he find this an inconvenience, too? ] @desertbled

well. laurel had promised to the hairdresser that she would try.

her fingers clutch the bouquet too tight. fake white roses and dull, plastic green leaves. her smile looks pained. it is. " it's — nice to meet you. i'm laurel. don't worry. there's no in-laws. "

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All she wanted was a fucking beer. Three had been knocked back already, but that fact doesn't stop the want - the need - for number four. But even dulled, senses take note of all the sterotypes. The loud crowd around a pool table give her a headache a bud light can't fix.

Laurel spins on the rickety stool. The heels of her boots stomp, spread and hips and shoulders twist straight. What comes out of her mouth is full of threats in colorful language, aimed at the lowest of their belts. She hears another man jump and join her. @b1uedcollar

It's good, too. She's outnumbered. But three swings later, her foot kicks one in the ally's direction, grinning at his ready fist.

"Hey, batter, batter — swing! "

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hehe #26.... for Reasons..... you know why 💋 @kurjaks

there's no signal or word that they share when it becomes too much. if they think about it, they'll know it is because of the intimacy they share with fear, not just between themselves. kurjak knows when his hand grips too hard when the flash in laurel's eyes and the sting of her nails tell him so. and every time he lets up that little bit of strength, she gasps and lurches her jagged hips forward, groaning because she does not have the capability to scream.

it's good they're against a wall; it would take a mattress too long to dry. to be filled and emptied at once is too much for one already weary. laurel crashes, falling against a warm chest that seems to rumble. he's laughing. she's boneless. the deputy feels a set of rough sheets now; a pair of arms with fighting temperatures deposit her on a borrowed bed.

when abused lungs are relaxed ( but her neck is still deliciously sore, ) laurel rubs a hand over what is to become skin textured and colored by bruises shaped like fingerprints. her voice is hoarse. she whispers when his hand ghosts over her throat. " i hate your fucking ego already. " he can hear the " but " before she says it. " but that was the best i've felt in ... ever. " it won't be tonight but soon - she'll ask him to do it again.

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@sherez ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏꜱᴛ. Laurel sits on a haybale with an ice-cold beer clenched in her hands. The hold is so tight that knuckles have gone stark white. The bottle is empty. Her legs hurt too much to get up and grab another, even if she's begging the alcohol, as weak as it is, to swallow her whole.

The bonfire rages. American flags and fireworks are everywhere. They don't see the deputy flinch and grit her teeth. They don't ask what she saw inside Faith's bunker. The haybale dips with the weight of another who can relate to the clenching inside her chest, the unprecedented female rage. Laurel's eyes flicker over in hopes that they bring a refill.

She's silent for a few moments. The crowd hoops and hollers in celebration.

" — Did you find Faith's body? "

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@periigozo

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" give me a minute! i haven't shot a bow and arrow in ages. "

controversial open? no it's not it's normal for both myself and this freak

"— you have yet to break skin..."

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laurel presses a tiny kiss to his ear. " sour-patch kid. if you're being sweet now, you must have been sour earlier. " her head turns soft & careful, rubbing together with his at her hair's detriment.

@markedwrath / didn't ask and it's half past 2am but also perish?

just nuzzles into her and anticipates being elbowed or kicked in the dick, but look, he's being nice and cuddly. so. come on, you should indulge him just this one time.

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in passing, he drops a kiss on her shoulder, and murmurs a simple "wretch." affectionately, of course. 💋

" i work so hard, I'm drop dead gorgeous, & this is how I'm treated? " fake anger dissolves into a fake pout. " kiss me again to apologize, you ape. "

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" ɪ'ᴍ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ. " @wnterslder

her head turns away, leaving him the view of a swinging blonde ponytail tied loose behind her. the tips of her fingers wipe away tears that stream down her face, relentless, and thanks to his words. four words, not three, that seem to break the dam. lips open to ask him why, to correct him, to tell him that he shouldn't be, but only ' thanks ' can eke itself off her tongue.

it's good to hear it even if it's just once. and coming from a man who has killed twice as much as her with twice as much regret, it even means something.